#we've spent so much time this year on trains I want to stay in one place for at least a month please

[nipuni]

Some New Year photos! 😊

[lyssa-rina]

Project Xerox.

Synopsis: Hydra has managed to clone the winter soldier, you, a handler, managed to escape with your ward after their downfall. Now after the scattering and reassembling of the avengers; trying to put themselves back together they uncover a lost secret.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (slowburn!)

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, OCs, Reader

Warnings!: fighting, stabbing (it's not serious).

word count: 3.3k

AN: Ngl bro, I totally forgot I was writing this for a second bc my mom was in the hospital, but I digress. This is for fun plz be chill. enjoy!

The last time you heard of the Avengers they were fighting in an airport in germany. You were fueling up at a gas station the news broadcasting on the convenience store tv showed airport security footage. Blows traded by both sides, back and forth, explosions and a giant man. The news anchor spoke over looped clips of fighting, something about ‘holding heros accountable’. You didn't care, no one at hydra was ever held accountable for what you went through, so who gives a shit? As long as they left you alone. Natasha was there, you hadn't spoken to her since she escaped the red room. Unbeknownst to herself and the captain, they were the reason you were able to escape hydra all those years ago.

It had been two years since hydra's downfall and you were still moving, trying to keep them off your trail by never staying in one place too long. Alexander Pierce’s death coupled with the incident in Washington created a domino effect across all of hydra.

They might have fallen but a hydra always rises from the ashes they said. A few patrons stopped to watch the news both in shock and feigned disinterest.

He was there too, the soldier, the asset, the blueprint. His face became a constant in your life after you were traded to hydra by the red room. Blue eyes that followed your every move, now watching you with curiosity.

"What's wrong?" You sat on the boardwalk, side by side with your ward, fishing poles waiting for the dark water to cough up a few more fish. A cold wind rustled the trees as a chill ran up your spine, that was all that you could hear besides the lapping of lake water.

"I think it's time for us to head back to the house." You received an annoyed whine in return.

"But- I haven't caught anything yet!"

"I know, but we've been out here all evening, I want you to get some studying in before dinner time" those eyes, staring back at you in disbelief.

"What?! Why?" Despite his protest, he knows to follow orders. That training has been ingrained into his mind since birth.

Reeling in his line with a pout. "Why do I have to study if I already know everything?"

You hum in answer as you smile at the kid. He looks so adorable with his oversized jacket and unruly hair.

"Do you think fish have dreams isaac?"

Those eyes again, swirling with so much curiosity, intrigue and as much scepticism as any eight year old could muster. How was he supposed to know that?

"See? You don't know everything." The walk back to the house was spent with Isaac trying to prove that he did in fact know everything. He did, kind of. Growing up under Hydra’s thumb meant he had to know everything, be anything. To survive you had to be the best of the best and he was. Surpassing dozens of other clones. Alexander Pierce had personally congratulated you on shaping their best new asset, it was sickening the way scientists marveled over their creation. They said he was perfect, genetically, physically, mentally and academically. But who cares how smart you are when they need mindless soldiers. But most of all he was profitable.

It was silent, the only sounds were leaves rustling in the trees and crunching under your feet. The weather was getting colder and the lack of birds chirping didn't seem too alarming. But still, the feeling stayed. The feeling reminded you of the first times they ever went outside. More than half of the kids were terrified, seeing the sky for the first time. Issac was amongst those scared kids but he adapted the fastest and now you can barely keep him inside.

You locked every door and window as soon as you got back to the house. Drawing each curtain as you moved through the cabin, they wouldn't do much for protection, unless there was a sniper they would at least keep you out of view. Even after you prepared dinner, that feeling of unease was there.

"Issac?" He was at the coffee table. Rereading an advanced algebra book for the fifth time.

“Yes?”

“Go tell your brother dinner’s ready.”

The soft thumping of a walking stick became familiar. It was like hearing your own heartbeat in the dead of night. The whirring of a breathing machine was white noise when your thoughts traveled too far, pulling you back to the present as you poured your stew over rice. The heat of the stew was a comfort in a life that always seemed to be moving, rice was cheap and convenient, but versitial.

When you turn to set the table Ben is already in his seat. He usually helps you with cooking but recently the cold makes his leg ache. Since then he’s been listening to the radio frequencies, waiting to hear anything suspicious but thankfully there's been nothing so far.

‘smells good.’ Ben signs as you place his bowl in front of him.

He then turns to Issac, who’s standing beside him. ‘Let’s hope it tastes good too.’

“Hey!” You say feigning offense. “ I was trained to be a spy, not a cook.” The two boys burst into a hearty laugh.

Dinner was peaceful, well, as peaceful as any dinner could be with two young boys debating theoretical cartoon physics in sign language. The boy's dynamic was the same as any other pair of siblings. Brainwashed or not every sibling has pulled a knife on the other, there was that intense push and pull of love and hate. According to the scientists at the hydra facility, they wouldn't exactly be classified as siblings. They were identical, even more than twins. They were the same person, exactly the same. The same person living different lives. When the experiments started you pondered if a singular soul could be split into two, maybe three? But how far can a singular soul stretch? Can a soul even be shared?

“Are you coming to bed?” Issac asks, his big puppy eyes stare back at you. You can tell he senses your unease the way he fidgets on your shared bed.

“I’m not tired yet, I’ll come to bed in a little bit. Okay?” He pouts, crosses his arms and looks away. He’s getting such an attitude these days. You’re thankful that he is, it means he’s not afraid of you. You don’t think they ever were scared of you, maybe by a fraction. Growing up in that place breathes hesitancy, it breathes fear. One guard's bad day could lead to your worst.

“Ben. . . ” You threw him a look, you haven't told him about the unease you felt at the lake. But the eyes tell it all, you’ve both developed a sort of telepathy over the years. Something wasn't right and as he looked back at you from his mattress on the floor he understood completely. Ben knows the drill, he’s been doing this for years.

They look just like him, soon enough you might not even be able to tell them apart from him. They might still be kids but they were under hydra's control for so long. You’re afraid that they might end up back there, end up like the asset, like the soldier that can’t say no and won’t ask questions; because that’s exactly what they were made for.

He nods.

“Goodnight boys.”

You stayed awake, sitting in front of the fireplace with your piece. The fire crackled. It’s light dancing across your eyes and then you heard it, a creak. Wood bending under the pressure of some sneaking intruder, it was the back door. You eased off the couch and sneaked behind a wall armed and ready, when you saw another shadow walk across your front window. You could handle them, sure, but you’d like to stop running someday, find somewhere safe enough to feel normal. Somewhere you didn't have to look over your shoulder after every step.

You suspected it. But you wouldn’t believe it, you hoped they hadn’t found you.

You had a slight upper hand, as small as the cabin was, you’d been living here for weeks. You knew the layout. So waited, back against the mantel wall. Waiting for them to cross the threshold of the hallway. Their steps light, you could hear the subtle drag of the sole of their shoe. If you hadn't known they were there you would think nothing of it. Before the intruder could check their periferal you striked. Grabbing their arm you threw them over your shoulder, they slammed onto a wooden armchair destroying it. You aimed your piece and missed as they kicked you in the chest. When you stumbled they rolled out of the chair limbs and kicked your legs from under you. The both of you were on the ground fighting over the gun when you fired again, it grazed their side. They launched at you and you kicked them off and kicked up into a standing position.

Before you could take aim again, they kicked your gun out of your hand. They tried to climb onto your shoulders, it was a predictable move. You reached for a vase on the window when their calf landed on your shoulder, they backed off after it shattered against them. You were able to keep up as you traded blows, it was a dance you were familiar with. When someone grabbed you from behind, trapping your arms to your sides. Right! There was another one. You lifted your legs and kicked the first intruder in the chest, sending them flying into the broken chair. Yourself and the second intruder flew into the side window from the force of the kick. The glass cracked with a web leaving a big hole in its centre. This was starting to get tedious, but you realised they weren't trying to hurt you but maybe distract you. What if some else was trying to get to your boys while you were stuck here fighting.

You leapt over the first intruder to get to them but the second one grabbed you from behind again. Your window trick wouldn't work again so you head butted them and their grip slackened.

“Ah! Shit!” they hissed.

That was a familiar ‘shit!’. It definitely stood out against all the grunting from the struggle. You froze when the lights came on a second later and you were released. In the corner of the room stood your long lost fellow captive, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, Natasha Romanoff, the widow that escaped. When you turned around the second intruder you came to find out was just Clint Barton. Your entire body sagged with relief but before you could say a word, Clint cried out again gripping his thigh. It was Isaac, armed with a small knife. His eyebrows furrowed, his teeth bared, like a kitten with a crazy smile. He’d stabbed him in the thigh thinking you were in danger, you honestly don’t blame him but he shouldn’t have too. He’s just a kid.

“Isaac no!” you cried out, as he pulled his arm back to strike Clint again. You managed to grab his hand before it came down. Grabbing him by the torso and dragging him away. Confusion brewd on his face as his small frame fought against you. He wouldn’t dare use his real strength against you but why were you stopping him? He was trying to protect you.

“Issac, stop!” his hesitancy was written all over his face. You could tell that he was sacred. He was on the verge of tears, his breath trembled.

Ben stood at the threshold of the room, eyes wide, breath rasping, balancing on his walking stick.

‘I tried to stop him.’ His hands shook as he signed. His breath was ragged, his chest pumping rapidly but not so much from fright but lack oxygen. Rushing after Issac he wouldn't have had time to put his oxygen concentrator on.

“It’s okay. I know you're scared but these are my friends-“

“But they attacked you!” Issac wheezed out.

“ They surprised me- and I got scared and I reacted without thinking.”You really weren't thinking, even with the light from the fireplace you’d ignored all recognizable features and just focused on the fight.

“Remember what we talked about?” His eyes darted between the three adults but avoiding eye contact.

“ . . .I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“You don’t need to be sorry issac. You were just trying to protect me.” you breathed a sigh of relief as he curled into your chest. Silent cries shook his tiny frame, you tried to sooth him, rubbing circles into his back. “But, you don’t need to protect me, I’m the adult, I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Don’t feel bad, kid. I’ve stabbed him by accident too, he’ll be fine.” Natasha snickered out.

“Hilarious.” Clint mockingly hissed and turned to you to ask for a first aid kit.

“It’s under the sink and I’m trying to teach him to not stab people anymore.” The cut on leg definitely wasn’t deep but the drama queen still clutched his thigh in pain.

“Well, you're doing a terrible job.” Clint whined as he sat at the kitchen table.

“Cut me some slack, we’re practically hermits.” you grinned slightly.

The boys wouldn’t go back to bed after all the commotion, so you all settled in the front room, well, what else was left of it; While Clint stewed the small connected kitchen. The cold breeze streamed through the broken side window chilling the room. The cabin was only eight hundred square feet, if you would even call it a cabin,It wasn’t made for long ‘vacations’ but you managed.

You felt safer with Clint and Natasha here but something still wasn’t right. They wouldn’t be here without a reason. You sat in the centre of the couch, Issac’s head in your lap and Ben curled into your side, both eagle eyed.

“Sorry about your window.” Nat poked at the fireplace trying to heat up the room.

You waved her off. They wouldn’t be here if they didn't intend to take you all to wherever they were staying. Your time here was limited anyways, if they hadn't come you would’ve left soon anyways. “That was Clint’s fault, it’s fine”

“My fault?!” Clint gawked, but you ignored him.

“You should take care of that.” Gesturing to the bullet graze you gave her. She nods, her back to you, her focus was on the fireplace.

“We’ve been tracking you for months.” The flames from the fireplace rose, glowing ashes floated up as Nat added more wood. She was floating on an air of disquiet, her posture was rigid, feigned calmness. You’d known each other since you were kids, you were trained to pick up on weakness, even eachother’s.

“Hhm, guess I’m getting lazy.”

“With two kids? I’m surprised we took so long.” Ben and Issac were trained in the same ways you were, hiding in plain sight was something that came naturally to everyone in this room. Moving through life without leaving a trace wasn't just a skill, it was survival. You don’t know why she would point that out.

“Cut the bullshit. Why were you looking for us? What happened?”

“I can’t check on an old friend?” Trying to ease the tension she turns to you and gives a small smile.

You raised a brow. “We’ve been out for years and no one but Hydra lackeys cared about us until now.”

Nat postures to speak again but hesitates.

“General Thaddeus Ross happened.” Clint answered, digging into one of the kitchen cupboards. “Com’on, You guys don’t have reeses?” he mutters to himself.

“Latvia doesn’t have reeses- what does Ross want?” you ask Nat.

“You ask that everytime we’re Latvia Clint.” Nat rolled her eyes feigning annoyance.

“What does Ross want, Natasha?” She doesn't speak but her eyes say it all as they linger on your fingers combing through Ben’s hair. Ben tenses under your palm, he already knows what’s going on.

“Issac, go help your brother back to your room.”

“He has his cane-” he tries to whine.

“Issac, please.”

Ben takes Issac under the arm, the three of you sit in pregnant silence waiting for the sound of the bedroom door to shut. They would probably still hear you because of their super hearing but this was an adult conversation, they're just kids.

When you hear the sound of the door shut Clint breaks the silence with a chuckle.

“Stubborn, that one.”

You knew why the Avengers fell apart, because of the accords. That general Thaddeus Ross wanted superheroes under his thumb and tried pressing their team into signing the accords, they disagreed and things got messy. You also knew when Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D fell all their secrets were strewn onto the internet, hidden behind their plans, strategies and weapons testing there were documents out there that detailed your time in that hell hole. Everything about the experiments that wasn’t on paper was out there and had been out there for a long time. Their weight, height, progress and even their ‘date of birth’. It was all there. Someone was going to get their hands on it eventually.

“You know what happened.” Nat sighs, wiping the exhaustion off her face.

“That doesn't explain why you're here! The last time I saw you two, you were fighting each other on tv.” You rise from your seat on the couch to see them both. To look them both in their eyes.

This vagueness Natasha was operating in, especially with you of all people, was freaking you out.

“First of all, we’re always fighting. Secondly, that was six months ago and I forgave her.” Clint puts it matter of factly, with one finger pointed and a pack of saltines crumpling in his hands. You really wished he wouldn’t eat your snacks but you’d be leaving soon anyway, so who cares?

“Nat, you need to tell me if they’re in danger. Please. . .” She does.

She spills her guts and in turns sours yours. After the accords fell the general started digging up anything he could to get the avengers to hand over their power. He was trying to stretch himself far and wide to get back any semblance of power and he landed on project xerox. He concluded that all ‘weapons’ produced by the experiments were legally property of the US government because of S.H.I.E.L.D’s involvement. Natasha explained that a ‘friend’ that worked for the government leaked the information to her. The mad man wanted your kids in custody, presumably to be child soldiers.It was like deja vu, your story wasn’t changing.

What was left of the ‘dubbed by media’ team cap were all still on the run, hiding out in eurasia and africa. When Nat got the tip she left the safety of their group without warning just to come find you, which meant Thaddeus Ross probably already knew where and by extension so did his enemies. You were bugs caught in a spiderweb of agendas and every arachnid wanted a piece.

“Where were you staying before you came here?”

“A couple towns over.“ Nataha’s slight grin gives the inclination that they’ve been following you closer than you initally thought. So much so that Natasha and Clint were able to stop a military squad before they were able to intercepted you and the boys.

“And I’m guessing you didn’t just bring Clint here to annoy me.” Clint rolls his eyes.

“No, I came to take you on a field trip.”

“To where?” The three of you swivel to the boy’s heads peeking out of the bedroom door in the hallway.

“Boys! What did I say?”

Taglist: @impoeticbeauty

[deathslbx]

i just need to rant for a sec...

the whole idea that azriel only lusts after elain, simply because he hadn't gotten that far in his planning for a future with her, doesn't explain everything else in the text we've been given. it doesn't provide solid ground for anyone else to get their shot with him, either...

this man was in love with mor for 500 years. so much so that it was easily noticed and pointed out by everyone. everyone knew how he felt, the same way they all knew, mor included, that he was never going to act on it. and those closest to him had no idea what really went through his mind all that time. he never opened up to them, he never allowed anyone to read him past the obvious longing.

he never tried. he never fought. he never asked questions. he just accepted it as it was.

why? because he didn't think that he was worthy of mor, he thought she would be happier without him. he admitted to feyre that he'd been alive for centuries and still didn't know where he truly belonged. he tells us that his shadows are truly the only consistent company he has ever had. who he will always have.

rhys tells us that there will come a day when azriel has to decide if he is going to fight for her or let her go, and that it won’t be because some other male insults her or beds her. do you know what that implies? that he has to confront his feelings, that he has to make the decision to fight or let go, and that azriel’s choice will be based on his own emotional growth and understanding of their relationship.

and what has been pointed out to us beyond that in the story? what has feyre noticed, what has nesta and cassian noticed?

a significant change.

a headache powder that could honestly be seen as a silly, fun little gift, is the one thing he's admitted to staring at on his nightstand for over a year. is something that had him tipping his head back to laugh, a sound feyre had never heard before, dark and joyous. that same night, it's him and elain in the sitting room at three in the morning. him listening to elain's gardening plans while everyone else had gone off to sleep.

when he's standing in the doorway and not with the rest of his family by the fire, a pretty lie is told to cover up his truth. 'his secret to tell, never hers,' accompanied by a comforting squeeze because nesta takes a quick look around and understands exactly why he's keeping himself away.

and cassian... bless him, has said he has not had to be a buffer for him and mor as often. he notes that azriel is finally letting go, after centuries, and can't understand why that is. what's changed?

there could be honorable mentions in there as well... mor humming after discussing elain returning truth-teller, the blade azriel had never before let anyone else touch. amren smirking over her glass. rhys stopping their near kiss before they got in way over their heads.

but then we come to find out that azriel, despite how much he might want elain, keeps himself away for a reason. the sight and smell of her mating bond is something he can't stand to be around. so instead, he avoids her, his family, and stays in the HoW and trains late into the night when he can't sleep. he pleasures himself to thoughts of her when his own shadows are too tired to stay up with him. and even still, he looks at that same gift on his nightstand.

'this will be invaluable.'

again, this man who doesn't believe he's worthy, doesn't believe he deserves to have what others have, thinks he's sullied beyond belief because of what he's done, has let go and moved on. and even still, he has never had a reason to question anything further. has never loved someone who has shown any interest in him, who has loved or wanted him back. he has never been a choice.

all he can do is want, and need, and desire. all he can do is stare longingly at a gift that shows him someone has paid attention to him. has spent even the slightest bit of their time trying to understand him. see him when others can't.

and when he finds out that for once, the girl he wants actually wants him back, chooses him instead of walking away, he's supposed to have everything figured out? he's supposed to suddenly believe the idea of a future, with a mate or otherwise, is possible for him? that a pipe dream he's already spent centuries on, might actually be possible for him now?

no. because elain is mated. her mate, in fact, is in the same house. they had never let it get that far before. only glances and brushes of their fingers was ever allowed. he had no idea if she felt the same. even though he knows that she is well aware of why he isn't around as much, why he chooses to stay away.

he understands her, too. more than anyone else has ever tried to do. no one truly sees her, remember?

but in that one moment, when she breathes 'yes,' ... 'offer and permission,' looking into his eyes openly, with so much trust and hope, he thinks it's okay to be selfish just once. to allow himself the chance to taste. just that once and that'll be it. because a reality where he gets to have anything with her isn't possible, she was already given to another.

so, tell me how he is supposed to answer rhys' questions after that? how is he supposed to be this perfect, unflawed character with all the right answers when all his life the things he's wanted never mattered? love, a mate, a future with children? it doesn't matter what he wants. he doesn't think that he deserves it, and he's already admitted that to us. he doesn't allow himself to think, or plan beyond a significant moment in time because he's never been allowed to.

he's never been given a reason to.

but do you know what we did get after that moment? him asking a question, 'what if the cauldron was wrong?' one he had never dared ask out loud before, not in all that time he spent pining after mor. why then, in that specific moment, would he be willing to ask? if he only cares about elain on a physical level, why ask a question that raises the stakes and changes the game for him entirely?

why then would he try to fight for anything at all if he already knows the outcome? if he already knows he doesn't deserve her? if he knows she's mated to another even if it doesn't make sense to him?

these are the right questions. these are the questions people need to be asking themselves, because these are the ones we're going to get the answers to. these questions tie into his entire emotional arc.

he's not the bad boy some people think he is. he's not an asshole in one person’s story and the hero in someone else's. he's been the same guy that was always right in front of us, we have just been given more of him to see.

[thecheshireprincess]

The Game Itself

Chapter III: Nine of Hearts AKA You Won't Say You're in Love

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) AU Series

Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood and injuries (somewhat explicit), mentions of a tumultuous childhood, curse words, Aguni is so girl-dad coded and I refuse to write him any other way

A/N: I literally never want to see this chapter again 😵‍💫 idk what happened, but I blacked out and wrote like 7000 words and then spent over a week rewriting and editing it. I'm so sorry 🤣

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

When you've finished getting cleaned up, you make no move to leave the bathroom; standing stuck in a silent face off with yourself in the mirror. Chishiya sighs, pulling himself off your bed and padding over to stand behind you. Though you're not exactly thrilled with his presence right now, he knows one easy way to return to your good graces and settle your fraying nerves all at once.

His left hand extends past you to grab your hairbrush from the vanity, the right gently finding purchase among your sleep tangled locks. Chishiya's touch is soft in your hair but efficient, well-practiced. Your eyes close involuntarily, your brief attitude quickly melting away. Both your best friend and your brother knew that more than just your hair would be tamed when they brushed it for you.

Once the tangles have been worked through, Chishiya begins a double French braid; working his long, nimble fingers down each side of your hair meticulously. You open your eyes again to meet his in the mirror, "are you sure you want to keep wasting your time in medical school? You could have a promising career as a hairstylist."

Your friend smirks in satisfaction at this, taking a beat before responding. He ties off the second side of your hair with an elastic and pulls both braids forward to sit in front of your shoulders, placing his hands against your arms. Maintaining your gaze and bringing his lips to whisper directly in your ear, "the only hair I care to be styling is yours."

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

It was the middle of summer, the sun's rays washing over you, tanning and freckling your skin. The hot air blew past you thickly as you ran the familiar path down the bustling street towards your favorite cafe with Chishiya hot on your heels. Thirteen years old and feeling so free; you don't think you'd ever known happiness like this. Niragi was further back, eyes trained on the two of you. He had long since stopped trying to keep you from racing in such a busy area, knowing that you'd never listen. Today was a special day, after all, and you were still so young; you deserved to celebrate.

Once the three of you were sat in your favorite booth, you were already eyeing the picture of the fat tabby cat longingly, "Niragi," you whined, attempting to draw his attention away from the flimsy paper menu in front of him. Niragi hummed, affirming that he was listening to what you had to say. "When can we get a cat just like this one??"

The man sighed dramatically, setting the menu down in front of him to meet your eyes, "Koko . . . We've talked about this . . ."

You interrupt what you know will be more of the same soliloquy as usual, "Yeah, I KNOW that technically our landlord doesn't allow pets, but Himari has like five cats smuggled in her apartment!" you cry. The injustice.

"Yes, well, Himari doesn't have to worry about staying in the good graces of social workers and receiving visits from them constantly," your brother reminded you, exhaustion obvious in his form.

"I know, but now! Now we won in court, and the social workers won't have to come visit as much, and we can get a secret cat! What could be better?" Chishiya smirked beside you, saying nothing but always on your side.

"Very sweet, but look, you've already got a cat companion right beside you," Niragi jests, trying anything to distract you from the cat he absolutely did not want. The two of you laugh, and Chishiya's smirk widens. Deflect and distract.

The kind-eyed - and super timely - waitress comes around the bakery case with your desserts just then, setting your honey toast in front of you. Your eyes grow as big as saucers seeing the sickly sweet substance in front of you, Niragi grinning brightly at your reaction. Saved by the dessert. He knew letting you get your treat before your meal was a great idea - he had once again successfully dodged the cat talk.

Sunlight streams through the sheer curtains covering your window, bathing your face in light like a good morning kiss. You begin to stir beneath your fluffy duvet, smiling lightly at the memory of your dream. You realize now, smile growing, that Niragi had not wanted that cat at all. Stretching your limbs without opening your eyes yet, you begin to think about the day ahead of you and what it might hold; if the sun had anything to say about it, it could even be nice . . .

Except you had ended someone's life last night

You shot straight up in your bed like a bullet, eyes wide open in realization; though you were in your own bed, you were hardly in your own world. Your sweet dreams had nearly wiped your memory of this sick place clean away, but it was all back now, hitting you like a freight train. Your sudden movement startled the sleeping man beside you and he jumped up too, obviously still on edge, "what happened?! What's wrong? Are you okay?" He moves to run his fingers over you, checking for injuries that weren't there.

You slowly turn your head to look at him, eyes crazed, "what do you mean, what's wrong? Everything is wrong! We don't know where we are. Where Niragi is! And I . . . I murdered someone last night!" You wailed, your adrenaline from the game clearly having worn off and allowing the gravity of your situation to sink in. "How the fuck am I supposed to live with this?" You begin running your now shaking hands through your hair.

Chishiya sits quietly, observing; just as you'd expect from him. Unemotional fucker. You want to slap the calm right off his face because damn it you are so upset. So angry. So scared. What you really wanted was to vent your emotions, to commiserate a little bit with someone. You didn't even expect a solution, just . . . someone to tell you that they agree how much it sucks. That they're scared too.

But you'd never had that, had you? Niragi deals with big feelings the way any decent parent figure probably would, he tries to fix them. He never just listens or lets you wallow in self pity; nor does he complain alongside you. If he were here listening to you now, he'd probably be on the phone trying to find yet another therapist. Good luck finding one in this fucked up world.

And your only best friend since you were old enough to crawl, the person you tell everything to and share everything with, is sitting right in front of you. But he doesn't complain, he doesn't tell you that it's okay because he's afraid too, he doesn't feel upset by this new world. In fact, you're certain he doesn't feel anything at all, ever. It's infuriating.

Chishiya places his hand gently on the back of your neck, cooing indistinctly and shushing you - his poor attempt at being comforting. You were already too far gone, losing yourself to the deep abyss of negative emotions swirling within you. You shake his hand off of you immediately, fury burning inside of you so brightly you can't stand to be touched. You notice a brief flash of something - hurt? - in his eyes as you push him away before his usual emotionless mask is replaced. This stokes the flames even further - couldn't he actually just be upset? If he yelled at you for being a petulant brat. If he threw something across the room and broke something. Anything to show that he was the least bit affected by all this, but no. You're really alone in this feeling. A sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh escapes your lips and you decide you both could use some space to process things.

You roll out of bed without another look at your friend and walk to your closet. You pull out a pair of leggings, a strappy mint cropped workout top, and a gray zip up jacket with a hood; it's obvious you'll need to be comfy and capable of movement in this new world, but that doesn't mean you can't look cute while kicking ass at death games. You enter your bathroom to change and get cleaned up, slamming the door shut to punctuate your continued annoyance. Your frustration grows somehow even more when you move to turn on the sink - nothing. Chishiya had told you the plumbing wasn't working last night, but you weren't in the headspace then to worry about things like that. The least you can do is change your clothes and assess the damage to your appearance. You take a deep breath and glance up to meet your reflection.

Sick. You look sick. Face pale, eyes red and puffy, framed with massive black bags; hair untamed and matted from restless sleep. You regret looking at all, truthfully. You don't suppose putting on makeup will do much good, and it's probably a waste of time in a place like this. A soft knock interrupts the self-deprecating thoughts blasting in your mind - Chishiya. You roll your eyes, but open the door for him anyway. You give him a blank look - if he could be cold, so could you. You can at least try. He hands you a few bottles of water, presumably to wash your face and brush your teeth with. You take them, saying nothing as you turn back to your own battered gaze.

When you've finished getting cleaned up, you make no move to leave the bathroom; standing stuck in a silent face off with yourself in the mirror. Chishiya sighs, pulling himself off your bed and padding over to stand behind you. Though you're not exactly thrilled with his presence right now, he knows one easy way to return to your good graces and settle your fraying nerves all at once.

His left hand extends past you to grab your hairbrush from the vanity, the right gently finding purchase among your sleep tangled locks. Chishiya's touch is soft in your hair but efficient, well-practiced. Your eyes close involuntarily, your brief attitude quickly melting away. Both your best friend and your brother knew that more than just your hair would be tamed when they brushed it for you.

Once the tangles have been worked through, Chishiya begins a double French braid; working his long, nimble fingers down each side of your hair meticulously. You open your eyes again to meet his in the mirror, "are you sure you want to keep wasting your time in medical school? You could have a promising career as a hairstylist."

Your friend smirks in satisfaction at this, taking a beat before responding. He ties off the second side of your hair with an elastic and pulls both braids forward to sit in front of your shoulders, placing his hands against your arms. Maintaining your gaze and bringing his lips to whisper directly in your ear, "the only hair I care to be styling is yours."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the same way you had in the cafe yesterday, tense. Good tense. Tell him. "I . . . you . . . we . . .," you sputter, unable to spit the words out of your mouth. You were short circuiting. It was like you'd completely forgotten how to speak the only language you'd ever known, and didn't have the letters in the right order. I love you. Instead, "I-i'm going to go check the other apartments in the building. There could be resources we need." And you run away from him. You are a chicken.

Chishiya is left standing in your bathroom, dumbfounded and still holding onto your hairbrush like a lifeline. For the second time that day - and the sun had just risen - he had failed to say the words that you needed to hear. He has never been good at saying the things that you deserve to hear from him, and he knows that.

I'm sorry. I know you're afraid, but I'm going to keep you safe. You did so well last night. I'm scared too. I love you.

The man doesn't know if it's the lack of a proper childhood and decent parents that makes him so cold, or if he really is just an empty human. But would an empty human be able to love you so deeply? And how was it that your childhood was arguably worse, more violent and tumultuous, but you were so capable of feeling and expressing and loving? He's faced this conflict with you for as long as he's known you, but now? Now he has to contend with the fact that either of you could die at any minute.

Now he could be running out of time to say it.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

It turns out that raiding the other apartments had been a great idea. You found tons of stuff - canned foods, snack items, bottles of water, medicine and bandages, and even . . .

Chishiya's favorite biscuits

The ones in the cute yellow bag with red writing. They were in Himari's apartment, and you beamed upon seeing them. Truth be told, you were feeling really guilty. Not only had you let your emotions get the better of you this morning and launch you into a temper tantrum, but you'd then made a complete ass out of yourself with Chishiya in the bathroom. Not being able to tell the person you normally told everything to how you really feel about them is truly debilitating. You wished you could get advice from Niragi about it, but even so, you already know what he would say.

First, he would laugh at you, "of course you're in love with him, anyone with eyes can see that. Good job figuring it out though, I'm proud of you." And when you'd express concern about your feelings not being reciprocated, he'd laugh even harder, "come on, Koko. He's even more obvious than you!" You smile, thinking about him. Just how had that man gotten so smart?

You trudge back into the apartment, accidentally slamming the door behind you. As you drag your haul through the long corridor, arms heavy with your loot, something peculiar catches your attention. Your school bag. While not necessarily out of place, how had it gotten there? You'd had it with you in the cafe before your world was turned upside down, but remember opting to leave it in the booth while you searched your surroundings. You scramble to pick it up and inspect it for clues you knew you wouldn't find. Niragi. He must have gone looking for you and Chishiya and found it. So he HAD come back here at some point.

But now where was he? What if he was dead?

"Chishiya!" you called out desperately to your friend, your awkwardness and avoidance of him temporarily forgotten.

It took him only seconds to appear at the bottom of the stairs, moving as stealthy as a ninja as usual. Maybe more like a cat. Grabbing a bag of the yellow wrapped biscuits and meeting him in the hallway, you hold them out to him, "truce?"

"I wasn't aware we were in need of a truce, Koko," he says slowly, taking the cookies from you anyway. "You know I'd never pass on an opportunity for biscuits, though," he smiles, eyes sparkling.

"Look," you say, pointing a little shakily at your bag, "I think Niragi was here looking for us before we got here. W-where do you think he could have gone?" A simple question, but behind your eyes was something not so simple. Fear. Despair.

Chishiya glances at the bag, then back to study your face. He could see that you're already thinking the worst, so he shakes his head before attempting to comfort you. "His thought process is probably to try and find you in a game. The arenas are all over the city, and it would be unwise to come all the way back over here if he was drawn to a game across the city," he reassures you. "We have six days on our Visas, we should work on finding as much information about our new home as we can." Deflect and distract. Just as Niragi always had about that cat you wanted.

You nod, having had similar thoughts. You got a lot of good information from the players last night, but there was still so much you didn't know. The magician that had played against Chishiya provided some insight into the ranking system; the numbers 1-10 did indeed represent difficulty, which you had already guessed. The suit? Represents the type of game that would be played: Diamonds for Intelligence, Spades for Physical, Clubs a Team Challenge, and Hearts . . . Well hearts were special. Hearts were a game that forced you to play with the heart and emotions of another, and maybe even yourself. You shuddered thinking about the magnitude of a hearts game, hoping with your entire being you'd never end up in one.

And then of course, the man you'd had to shoot had explained the Visa system to you. Linked to the difficulty of the game, you earned days on your Visa equal to the number on the card. You and Chishiya had already earned six days. Thinking on it, you'd hate to play in one of these death games and earn one or two measly days, that hardly seemed worth it.

"We should explore the city. It would be really beneficial to be able to predict which arenas would produce which suits," you interject, "we can chart a map and start looking for patterns." Chishiya nods in agreement, already munching on his cookies and dropping crumbs on his shirt. "It looks like you got us set up with resources already, but we can also make note of places that are good for future supply runs," he observes, eyes glancing over the bags stuffed full with the items you'd chosen.

And so for five days, the two of you do just that. Every morning, you eat breakfast and get ready for the day, pack your backpacks full of supplies, and head out to a different area of the city to investigate and work on your map. You find tons of game arenas, sometimes waiting to talk to the remaining participants after they finish to find out if your predictions were correct. It became somewhat of a fun competition between you and Chishiya - seeing who could predict the highest number of them correctly. It provided you the distraction you so desperately needed, and you were grateful for having had a little while to get settled in a new routine with your best friend.

By the time your Visas are about to expire, you've gotten pretty accurate with three of the four suits. Unsettlingly, though, you were almost never able to accurately predict where Hearts games would pop up. Thinking about it made the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach grow. It would never be safe to play a game with Chishiya. You've also been unable to locate Niragi, and he hasn't returned to the house either. Chishiya does what he can to keep you busy from worrying about it, but even he is starting to feel concerned about your brother's whereabouts.

Too soon for your liking, it's time to leave the apartment to renew your Visas. You're more well-equipped and informed this time, so you should feel confident. Instead, you feel sick at the thought of being separated from Chishiya after spending so much time with him over the last couple of days. It's been nice. Really nice.

"Since we won't be playing together tonight, let's plan to meet back up here after we win," Chishiya suggests assuredly, pulling your mind back to the present. You nod, though with a little hesitation. Your friend notices and sighs, "I promise you that I'll come back. I won't leave you here, not ever." You blink, tears threatening to form.

Chishiya looks back at you expectantly. Calm. "I promise to come back too," you ascertain, letting out a breath and forcing the tears down, "it'll be just a couple of hours." Who are you trying to convince, him or you? He nods, smiling. A rare, real smile.

Your eyes trail over his face, studying him a little longer before the two of you need to leave to make it to your games. As tough as you're trying to be, you momentarily allow your emotions to get the best of you, throwing your arms suddenly around his neck to bury your face into his soft hoodie. The force you've thrown yourself at him threatens to send you both tumbling to the floor below you, but he steadies you with ease. Chishiya usually isn't big on physical touch, but with you, it's always felt natural. Enjoyable, even. His arms snaked around you and pulled you tightly to him, squeezing as much comfort into your body as he has to offer.

A minute or two passes and he whispers in your ear, "let's get going, hm?" The man hummed, gently rubbing circles into the spot between your shoulder blades, "the quicker we get it over with, the quicker we'll be back here." You nodded from your place still tucked into his shoulder, sighing. You can do this.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The early evening air is cool, brushing against the exposed skin of your face and neck and making you shiver. You look up to study the sky above you, the stars already starting to peek out among the pink and orange canvas of the sky. You had never had the privilege of seeing the stars glimmer so brightly above Tokyo, you felt them take your breath away. Stunning.

You continue walking in the direction of the abandoned community center you had scouted as a game arena earlier today. Chishiya was heading the opposite direction - toward the library you always studied at together. There were games lighting up all over the city, every night. This was the first time you were personally testing your game arena predictions, a higher stakes competition between the two of you. You hoped you were right.

The community center stood tall above you, covered in foliage and vines that you were certain hadn't been there before. Time flows differently here, you knew that with certainty - otherwise you should have run into Niragi the first night you arrived, and the fresh foods should have survived longer than what felt like a few hours to you. Nature was already beginning to reclaim the land; it was partially beautiful and partially unnerving.

[Game Arena - 5:00 Minutes Until Registration Closes]

[Players Required: 12]

You took a deep breath just before you pushed open the flimsy doors to the center; you'd been hoping for a Spades game when you chose this arena. Please let it be ANYTHING but a Hearts game. You yank the hood of your gray jacket over your head and steel your face. Emotionless.

Entering the dimly lit and sparsely decorated lobby of the building, you immediately take note that the front desk is holding the phones, One Per Person, same as before. This time though, they aren't alone. Your blood runs cold; a variety of weapons and an old fashioned lantern lay ominously beside them. There is already a large group of people waiting for registration to close, though most don't even look up at you as you enter. Off in their own worlds panicking probably, which is exactly what you wanted to do too. You approach the desk to grab your phone and suddenly feel eyes burning on you. You decide not to glance around, but if you had you'd have noticed an intimidating presence studying you. Trying to decide if you were the person he had been hunting for the last week.

[Identity Verification in Progress . . .]

Just as before, the phone correctly provides your information. You aren't surprised, but it still gives you an uneasy feeling. Another question on your list - how did they know your name and face? Government records?

[Registration Closes in 4:00 Minutes]

You put the phone nonchalantly in your pocket and move to sit in the row of seats normally reserved for parents waiting for their children performing activities at the community center. You slump down low, allowing your head to fall against the rigid backrest of the chair in thought. You'd taken swimming and gymnastics lessons here since you were really little, as long as you can remember. And Niragi, he'd always been here. Waiting for you. Always waiting, always supportive. You missed him.

You look to the seat on the end of the row, the one he'd always be sitting in. He liked to be as far away from the other guardians as possible. Instead, you now find a large, muscular man sitting there. Hair cropped short, close to his head. Staring right at you. You're surprised when you accidentally make eye contact with the older man, looking away quickly as if you'd been the one caught staring. His eyes continue to burn a hole in your head.

You peek up now to study the others gathered in the space. You notice the staring man has a partner, both of them wielding large guns. They are talking lowly between them, both with their eyes on you. Weird. Chishiya would urge you to ignore them, whatever they wanted from you was not in your best interest. Across from you was a group of three girls, likely in their 20s. You decided they must have been a group of friends from the original world. Your heart sank for them, because you knew what it was like having to play in a death match with someone you cared about. Loved.

A little girl with curly pigtails, likely only ten or eleven stood with an older gentleman. A grandfather and his granddaughter? Now your heart was pounding. It seemed children would not be exempt from the cruelty of this land. A man stood propped up against the bulletin board, wiry hairs sticking out all over the place. His gaze was crazed, looking all over the place, at you and the others. This was not his first game. But it could be his last. And yours.

You watched as another group of three waltzed into the center, the final three needed to start the game. Like the girls, you predicted that they were friends before coming here. They must have forgotten themselves for a moment, because despite being about to register for a literal death match, they walked up to said group of girls to flirt. You scoffed, but simply lowered your gaze to the floor. You don't know them.

[Registration is Now Closed]

[Difficulty: Nine of Hearts] Your pulse rushed in your ears and you couldn't hear for a moment. The one suit you hadn't wanted . . . And at a nine? What the fuck. Seriously?

[Game: Underground Gathering]

[Rules: Three players will act as the persecutors, guarding the torch from the gatherers. The gatherers will attempt to gain access to the torch and gather safely around it in their designated sanctuary. Unlocked rooms in the building are a safe haven for gatherers, but persecutors have free reign of the hallways and can capture gatherers that are running between safe spaces. Weapons are allowed and encouraged]

[Clear Condition: Gatherers - Obtain access to the torch and have all remaining players gather around it in the sanctuary.

Persecutors - Prevent the gatherers from getting the torch and gathering, at all costs; to win, persecutors must have an equal number or more players on their side]

[Game Over: Gatherers will receive a game over if they fail to bring their torch and all remaining members of the party to gather in the sanctuary within the time limit. Persecutors receive a game over if the gatherers succeed within the time limit, or if they are unable to capture enough gatherers]

[Time Limit: Two hours]

You shrunk further into your hood, breathless. The players assigned to the role of persecutor would be forced to kill off the others, that's what the weapons are for. Not only do they have to prevent the stealing of the torch, but they also had to eliminate players to be equal to or less than the three on their side. At least six people would have to die tonight for the persecutors to win. Being a gatherer would be easier, but certainly not without its struggles.

The cheerful voice you hated so much rung out once more, interrupting the war in your mind. [Your roles will now be assigned]

Your phone chimed, pulling it slowly out of your pocket with a sick feeling in your stomach, you see:

[You are a persecutor. Take the torch, grab a weapon, and proceed to the kitchen as your starting position. Good luck.]

You could have fallen to the floor in despair reading these words. How the fuck were you going to kill off six people tonight when killing even one was the worst thing imaginable just a few days ago? Emotionless. You have to stay calm.

You nod to yourself, standing from the chair and approaching the table holding the weapons. Unexpectedly, the power goes out entirely, causing the players around you to scream. Of course, another twist. It would be far too easy if everyone could see properly.

Using the light from your phone, you survey the options available. You didn't think you had it in you to stab someone to death so you chose a rifle. Grabbing the torch, now lit on the corner of the same desk, you begin trudging slowly toward where you knew the kitchen to be.

You were lucky Niragi had insisted on you spending so much time on activities in this building, being able to navigate would surely help your mission. What would he think of what you were being forced into? Would he be disappointed by having a murderer for a little sister?

You reach the kitchen in no time, placing the torch in the middle of the rounded metallic island. The object bathed the dark room in a warm light, glinting off of the shiny, sterile objects all around you. You settle the heavy rifle against your shoulder and lean up against the cool metal, waiting. You were starting to feel a little numb, knowing what would have to transpire in the next two hours.

The swinging wooden door is slowly pushed towards you, allowing your partners in crime to enter. You don't move an inch, but flick your gaze up to see who it was - your heart constricts when you see the older gentleman - the grandfather of the little girl - and the muscly looking guy. The one who was staring holes in your head in the lobby. Wonderful.

The younger man breathes a sigh of - relief? - upon seeing you standing there. This only serves to confuse you further, just who the hell was this guy? Maybe your emotionless act was better than you thought, and the man thought you'd be a good teammate? You lower your gaze back to the floor without a word.

[Game Start] The robotic voice chirps.

Here we go. In two hours, you could be out of here and on your way back to Chishiya. You can do this. Stay cold, stay numb. Do what you have to do.

"Okay, you two. We need to devise a plan," you hear your voice commanding, as though it was separate from the rest of you. "At least six people on the opposing team are going to have to die, AND we need to stop them from bringing the torch to their sanctuary."

Neither of the men move to answer you, so without looking up from the floor, you continue "I'm positive that the pool is their sanctuary. It's at the furthest point away from here. To make things more difficult, you know? A further distance to travel once you've gotten the target. We should split up. One person to guard the torch, and the other two to capture." Your voice sounds cold and calculated. You'd be impressed by you if you were hearing yourself.

The younger man hums in agreement, without saying much more. Not a big talker, you presume. The older gentleman agrees too, "I'm not as young as the two of you. I should stay with the torch," he suggests.

You grab your rifle and push back through the double doors of the kitchen, a silent agreement with his offer. Though your heart is racing, you know you need to stay in character. Fake it til you make it, right? The military like man is hot on your heels, ready to clear the game too.

Walking quickly through the halls, you are on red alert for the other team. It was imperative that you caught them in the hallway as soon as possible, or they could run the time down hiding in their safe zones. You can only see by the sparse emergency lights placed strategically along the floor and the small light from your phones, but you know the man is looking at you again. You look up to meet his eyes this time and sigh. He opens his mouth, and the most shocking thing that could have happened to you does. He says your name. Quietly at first, like a question. When you react, obviously stunned, he says it again. More sure this time.

You know in the back of your head that you should be cautious with this, but the man IS on your team for this game, whether you like it or not. "How did you . . .?" you whisper. He nods knowingly, "I've been looking for you. Turning the city upside down to find you." And now you're scared, but have to know. "But why? How did you know to be looking for me?"

"Your brother. He is willing to burn all of Tokyo down to find you, I swear he's getting closer to it every day, " he says lowly. Your ears perk up and if you weren't in the middle of a death match, you would soar with joy. "Niragi? You know him? He's safe?" You're a little disturbed that Niragi had made friends with anyone, let alone a guy like this, but you couldn't be happier to hear that he's ALIVE and has been looking for you too.

He nods once. "I've promised to get you to him, so we need to focus on clearing this game," his gruff voice sounds. You hum in agreement, looking at him expectantly. His eyebrows knit in confusion at the way you're looking at him. "You know my name, and we're about to kill a lot of people together. You could at least tell your name too," you say sharply.

"Aguni," he responds quietly. Definitely not much of a talker.

It's then that you hear a sound, one of the gatherers. The man glances at you once before taking off stealthily down the hallway toward it. You're surprised that he's able to move like that looking the way that he does. Suddenly the building is way too quiet, and it feels like you're being suffocated by the silence. You hear a short, masculine scream, a crack, and then nothing. You clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming out yourself, finding the wall and leaning your weight on it for a moment.

[A gatherer has been captured, 8 gatherers remaining; 3 persecutors remaining] You know you need to keep moving. The gatherers can only be killed in the hallways, and there is still a lot of work to do to ensure your victory.

You meet Aguni at the intersection of two hallways, "You should go back to the torch," he whispers, momentarily confusing you. "I don't think the old man can handle it and our job will be harder if they get it," he whispers, turning you back around the way you'd just come. He wouldn't say it, but he was trying to spare you the pain of having to kill a lot of people, you knew that.

[Two gatherers have been captured, six gatherers remaining; three persecutors remaining]

You'd just walked away from Aguni, so you knew that must mean the older man was under attack. You begin sprinting, as quietly as you can, throwing the swinging door open just in time to watch the old man drop to the floor, dead, his granddaughter sobbing hysterically beside him. She was holding onto the torch like a lifeline, two of the men from the group of friends on either side of her, trying to pull her out the back entrance.

You freeze. She was a child and you couldn't just shoot her. Of course you couldn't. But you needed to try to at least capture the men that had used her as bait against her grandfather. A hearts game, indeed. As soon as the little girl was out of the way, you took aim, dropping both men to the ground in a single shot each. If you weren't right on the edge of throwing up, you'd almost be proud of your accuracy.

It's then that the robotic voice sounds out, surrounding you on all sides [The gatherers have captured the torch, four gatherers remaining; two persecutors remaining, one hour left]

You dash madly through the kitchen and towards the back entrance the little girl had gone through, slipping through the puddles of blood coating the floor. You were certain that the three remaining adults with her would be close by, and you had to try to take at least two more out AND prevent them from gathering. You were exhausted.

You creep along the empty and dark corridor towards the pool, careful to control your breathing. This side of the building is decidedly darker and creepier, and you have to steel your mind again to keep from panicking. You can hear feminine whispers coming from a nearby room, the nursery; it must have been two of the remaining girls from the former group of three. You wanted to feel bad for them, knowing they'd just lost one of their friends. You don't have the energy right now. You press your body up against the wall furthest from the classroom and slip silently past, wanting to measure just how much further the pool was. You walk a few steps around the curve before seeing the beginnings of blue glow from the pool reflecting on the floor and ceiling. It's then that you accidentally drop your phone out of your jacket pocket, making entirely too much noise for such a quiet environment. Fuck.

You hear the girls gasp and shush each other in turn, they know you're out here now. A standoff. You won't be lucky enough to catch them off guard while running towards the pool now. It will be a fight to the death then.

Time is ticking down, and the two twenty year olds are still sitting in the nursery. You pace back and forth, knowing your hands are tied. After a few minutes, you turn your back to the room to take a quick glance into the pool; the little girl was in there with the torch in the gathering spot, and one man is circling the perimeter. The man that had arrived with Aguni. You couldn't allow the two girls to get past you to the gathering spot. But you also couldn't let the girls die, and the man get to the gathering spot. Your victory was in a precarious position now.

Without warning, an unfamiliar weight hits you in the back, sending you and another person sprawling to the floor - one of the girls. Standoff over. You saw a brief flash in the blue light emanating from the pool, she had a knife. A large one. Using both legs, you forcefully kick her away from you and scramble to your feet. You'd almost forgotten about the second girl, until she yanks your gun wielding arm behind you, twisting so hard to get you to release the weapon you hear a sickening pop and cry out.

You're still holding on for dear life to your weapon, so the first girl comes flying toward you in tears, using all her might to slice her knife across your midsection. Whimpering out again and seeing white blind your vision, you know you won't be able to stop the girls from joining the rest of the team. You feel like you're falling in slow motion as the girls push you away from them and move to enter the pool.

Just then, two shots ring out and you just barely see their bodies crumple like used napkins to the floor. Aguni.

"They can still win, Aguni," you sputter out to the man, "all he has to do is make it to the center of the room with the little girl." As luck would have it, the man was too curious for his own good. He came storming out of the pool room, the door opening to allow the air thick with humidity and chlorine to blast you in the face. Aguni stood waiting for him with his gun raised, the man looking at him in shock. Right, they were friends or something. You're having a hard time keeping your eyes open to watch what's happening as the pool of blood beneath you grows. You aren't exactly a doctor yet, but you know that's not good.

[Two minutes left]

You can hear the two men throwing punches above you. Someone's gun goes flying across the room, ricocheting off of the glass wall that looks into the pool. You spend a solid minute trying to push yourself up to sitting, you need to help Aguni. Your stomach turns when you hear the sickening crack of the man hitting Aguni in the head and sending him unconscious to the floor. The man turns to limp slowly back into the pool. Fuck. They're going to win. You and Aguni will die.

[Thirty seconds left]

But your rifle is still laying on the floor next to your hand, and you don't want Aguni to die because you chose to give up. You still haven't confessed your love to Chishiya. You haven't seen your brother one last time. You wanted to live.

Your adrenaline allows you to pull yourself all the way up, charging into the pool room. The little girl must have left the safety zone to help guide the limping man to the middle of the room. A true miracle. You raise your rifle for what you hope is the last time, and pull the trigger without hesitation to drop the man to the ground.

You realize then that the little girl could win alone, being the last of the gatherers alive. She realizes too, and starts running back towards the torch. Your vision starts to blur with tears and the static that tends to accompany passing out as you watch her little legs get closer to the circle. You allow your body to collapse once more to the floor, there was no way you were going to kill that girl. It was time to accept your fate.

[Time is up, the gatherers failed to gather with their torch in the time allotted. Game clear for the persectors, congratulations] You felt hot tears start to cascade down your cheeks. You cried even harder as the red laser shot down from the sky, you knew what that meant without even looking. Thank goodness you couldn't look. Your breaths were beginning to feel shallower, you were losing too much blood. But Aguni would get to live, you hadn't let him down.

You don't know how long you lay there after being given the game clear. Your shoulder is 1000% dislocated and your bleeding hasn't stopped. You try to drag yourself towards where you knew Aguni had fallen in the hallway, you were the only two survivors. Assuming you didn't bleed out on the floor. The pain from your shoulder and from the jagged slice in your side cause your vision to blur once again as you work on dragging your exhausted body across the floor. You try in vain to call out, your voice coming out a gasp. You feel your head swim and your world go dark.

"You did good, little one," Aguni tells you, lifting you into his arms gently, "Time to get you back to your brother."

You can feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, but have just enough energy within you to weakly cough out, "Chishiya."

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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The Game Itself Masterlist

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As always, please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list! Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[lecsainz]

if you can make one with Travis Kelce and reader where they have a baby and reader goes into labor with the baby

ITS TIME

˒ ⌕ masterlist . . .

parings: travis kelce x wife!reader

summary: that one where you're pregnant and it's time to meet your little one.

an: I went with Travis and Y/N having a five-year-old kid. I know you asked for a baby, but I wasn't sure how to do it and I just loved how the story evolved, so I didn't have the heart to change it. Hope you like it.

type: fluff ಇ

It was a typical morning, much like many others during your pregnancy. You got up and watched your husband sleeping as you searched for your slippers to head downstairs and start making breakfast for the family, despite Travis's wishes.

Travis didn't want you to exert yourself during the pregnancy – it was the same during Aiden's and now during Ivy's.

You were beating some eggs when you heard the little steps of Aiden coming down the stairs.

"Mommy! Is today the day?" the little one asked excitedly, hugging your leg. Ever since Aiden overheard your conversation with Donna that Ivy would arrive by the end of December, he became super protective of you.

"Not yet," you said with a smile, bending down to pick up the 5-year-old.

"She's taking too long," he pouted, running his hand over your belly. "Daddy promised she'd come faster." That made you laugh, earning a scowl from your son.

"I think it's time for Daddy to wake up, don't you think?" You innocently asked Aiden.

And you watched the little one run upstairs to wake up his father.

While you were setting the coffee table, you were surprised by a pair of muscular arms hugging you from behind and a kiss on your neck from your husband.

"Good morning, dear," Travis said with a huge smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Kelce." You turned and gave him a brief kiss on the lips, receiving an "Eww" from Aiden, making both of you laugh.

The rest of the day flew by; Travis had training with the Chiefs, so you spent the afternoon playing with Aiden, who bombarded you with questions about his sister.

As soon as the clock struck six, you decided it was time to prepare dinner, but the moment you got up from the carpet where you were building Legos with Aiden, you felt liquid running down your leg.

"Mommy? Did you pee?" Aiden looked curious.

And before you could respond, you heard the garage gate opening by Travis. "Honey, I'm home!" He shouted from the garage.

"I think it's time," you told him as he walked through the kitchen door.

"Time for what?" He looked at you, clearly not understanding.

"Mommy peed," Aiden said excitedly as if sharing a secret.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TIME!" Travis realized and started panicking. "SHOULD I CALL YOUR PARENTS? OR MINE? I NEED TO TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL!" Travis began frantically searching for the phone.

You found his hysteria amusing. "Travis, your phone is in your pocket," you approached and touched his shoulder. "Everything will be fine. We've done this once, and we'll manage again," you reassured calmly.

"Oh, dear, how are you so calm?" He asked, laughing.

"I'll get Ivy's bag," you said as you headed to the adjacent office. "Call your parents to stay with Aiden at the hospital!" You yelled to Travis.

"Can I bring my Legos?" Aiden asked, holding the plastic pieces, and when Travis called his mom. "Of course, buddy."

"Is Ivy coming?" Aiden ran after you to ask. "I think she already senses that you're getting ready to be an official big brother, sweetheart," you replied to him. "Ivy is coming!" Aiden ran off excitedly.

"Are we ready?" Travis asked as he helped you to the car, despite the small delay caused by your disagreement – him wanting to carry you to the car and you preferring to walk to dilate faster. "More than ever," you said, giving your husband a kiss.

[beardedjoel]

sugar rush

joel miller x f!reader

event masterlist prompt: your desperate neighbor, joel miller, runs out of candy for the trick-or-treaters and comes to you. it turns out you've both been keeping a secret from each other; 4.7k words warnings: mostly cute fluff and pining, makeout sesh, they stay flirting, joel miller is a gentleman *saluting emoji* a/n: loved writing a fluffy little piece for my ppcu darlings for this event, happy halloween and i hope everyone enjoys all the fics we've been writing for you all!

The last thing you’d wanted was to do something extravagant for Halloween this year. You watched friends planning to go out to parties, ones with kids plotting all their family costumes. But what you really want is a peaceful night in, passing out candy and eating popcorn with a scary movie in the background, spending time in your own cozy cocoon. Work has been relentless the last few months, stressful and draining, and you’re happy to just relax with candy stolen from your candy bowl for the trick-or-treaters. 

The first hour of little ones comes and goes, all of their costumes more adorable than the last, getting a chance to quickly catch up with some of your neighbors as they pass through. It’s just the evening you wanted, you convince yourself once again as you listen carefully to your popcorn in the microwave to make sure you don’t overcook it. 

You feel a twinge deep inside, maybe some kind of loneliness hitting you while you feel the emptiness of your home pressing in on your heart. You’d not been having the best luck with dating recently, you knew that, and refused to believe the real reason was that there was someone you were interested in, but didn’t have the heart to pursue it. So instead, you had spent the better part of this week persuading yourself you were happy to spend the holiday by yourself, to get this much needed alone time. 

You silently thank the universe when your doorbell rings again, bringing you out of your thought train that was heading towards a swift derailing into depression. You put on a smile before whipping the door open, expecting another group of kids dressed to the nines. Instead, your eyes flick up from child height to your neighbor, Joel Miller. He’s standing in a faded black band t-shirt that’s hugging his biceps, and when you finally pull your eyes to his face, it’s adorned with a shy little smile on his lips. His hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it a few too many times today, tousled and sticking up, and his tan skin looks somehow stunning in the shitty light of your porch. How he manages to look this good all the time baffles you.

“Joel? Um, hey,” you stutter out awkwardly, hoping he can’t see that your cheeks now feel like they’re burning as they always do when you meet his intense, chocolatey gaze. “Here to trick or treat? I’m not sure what your costume is, though.”

Joel chuckles, his face lighting up and you feel your insides warm at the fact that you made him laugh. “Wish I was, but no. I actually, er…” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I ran out of candy, was hopin’ I could…” he says, the last part more quiet, half hoping you didn’t hear his embarrassing confession. 

“Oh, y-you need some?” you reply, fidgeting your fingers in front of you. You glance over at your candy bowl, still over half full - you tend to go overboard on most things, and this was no exception. Anxiety had taken over you in the grocery store aisles and made you a different person, filling your cart with way more candy than accounted for kids in your neighborhood.

“I figured, y’know, think I might know ya best around here, and well, your light was on. The McCarthy’s don’t seem to be participatin’ this year.”

You have a flurry of emotions - amusement at Joel’s predicament, excitement that he’d chosen to come to you, and absolute screaming, jumping up and down joy that he’d thought he knew you the best of all his neighbors. The outside of you nowhere near matches the inside as you just give him a sweet, reserved smile.

“Those cranky bastards,” you say with a chuckle that Joel reciprocates. “Well, come on in, you can have some of mine. It’s kind of slowed down the last little while, though. But feel free to take whatever you need. Lord knows I don’t need this much leftover candy in my house tomorrow.”

“I’d kinda like to see you runnin’ around your lawn with a sugar rush, though,” Joel teases as he steps inside and you close the door behind him. Your brows raise slightly in surprise - Joel seems in an uncommonly great mood tonight. Not that he’s unkind, by any means, he’s just not typically the most chipper person you’ve ever met. 

“Not so funny when I crash and pass out and you have to drag me back inside,” you quip back to him, and his smile goes a little crooked, which sets your heart jumping inside your chest. You’d been harboring a bit of a crush - okay, more than a crush, you admit to yourself - on your neighbor for a while now, too afraid to say anything about it, or even flirt too forwardly most of the time for fear of rejection. You figured he was just a nice guy, and you had helped each other out in a pinch a few times, attended a few of the same barbecues, or waved as you passed by. You’d fallen more quickly for his gorgeous little accent and rugged looks than you’d cared to admit to yourself, and these feelings didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon. You’d even started to wonder lately if the reason your dating life hadn’t been the most lively and successful was that you were still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, Joel felt the same way about you. 

“Might be kinda a good look for me - neighborhood hero an’ all, savin’ you,” he says, his smile growing a bit. 

You roll your eyes playfully, feigning hurt. “And at my expense? That’s cold, Joel Miller.”

Joel laughs and holds up a small bag he’d brought over, hoping to take home his spoils. He’s filling it when the doorbell rings another time, and you start a little, so caught up in watching his broad, muscled form moving. You rush over to open it to a few small kids standing outside, not over the age of eight or so, all screaming TRICK OR TREAT! You laugh heartily and greet them all, gushing about how perfect their costumes are. You hold out your bowl of candy to them, letting them choose what they’d like and they all giggle at your compliments and little jokes. 

Joel has stopped to stare, enamored with your sweetness in this moment, how good you are with the kids. Hell, Sarah is much older than these three little ones, but he’d seen how good you are with her, too. She seems to adore you, asking after you any time it’s been a while since she’s seen you. Joel’s lips tug up into a smile, just now noticing how cute your Halloween pajamas are - black bottoms with little jack-o-lantern’s printed all over them and a black tank top. Now that he was noticing, he tries not to bite his lip when he sees just how tight the tank top is, how well it hugs your body as it slides up along your back a little when you bend down towards the kids’ level.

You wave your goodbye and turn back to Joel, face glowing from the big grin you’d put on for the kids. 

“So cute, right?” you say, hiking a thumb over your shoulder towards the front door.

“Miss that age,” Joel murmurs before he can stop himself. He promised himself he wouldn’t wallow too much tonight, and here he was telling the first person who had the misfortune of talking to him. Sarah chose to do a sleepover at a friend's house tonight, the first Halloween she was spending that didn’t involve Joel. Sure, they’d done the pumpkin patch and carved them after, apple picking with Sarah fulfilling her promise to bake Joel an apple crisp, and watched some of their favorite scary movies together. It still hurt that his little girl was Trick or Treating in another neighborhood without him tonight, maybe one of her last ones ever as she neared those teenage years. 

“S-sorry, didn’t mean -” Joel starts, cutting himself off from the deep thoughts he’d tumbled into.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Sarah’s got plans tonight, I take it?” you ask, sincerity and compassion sparking in your eyes. Joel finds himself dangerously close to falling into those two pools, your sweet soul shining through as you look at him.

“Mhm,” Joel replies, scratching a hand through his beard. “She uh, wanted to do somethin’ at a friends’. Don’t blame her, just… y’know, one of those things.”

You give Joel a sympathetic half-smile, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Joel. That is tough. I’ll bet she’s feeling a bit sad about it too, even if she’s having fun.”

“Better miss her old man at least a little bit,” Joel replies, trying to lighten the mood.

“Old man? I don’t see any old men in here,” you say, gazing around the room with a fake curiosity, your brow furrowed. Joel spits out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Too kind, darlin’. For that, and the candy.” He holds up the bag full of candy and starts towards the door. Your heart lurches every time he throws out one of his Southern little pet names, and you have to forcibly keep your face neutral as you bask in it. “Well, uh, thanks. I owe you,” Joel finally says.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth and worry with it as Joel’s hand seems to inch towards the door in slow motion. 

“W-wait,” you say, before you’ve even realized the word has left your mouth. “I was watching a movie - would you want to, um, stay and watch with me? Pass out candy together?”

Joel blinks a few times, and you feel your stomach sink, until he breaks out in a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing a bit. 

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Oh,” you nearly start, mostly having expected him to say no for some reason. Maybe you just haven’t accepted the fact that Joel does seem to enjoy your company as much as you do his. “Great,” you flash a smile, gesturing over to the couch. You walk over and sit down, and Joel follows closely behind, peering around at your setup.

“Popcorn ready and everythin’,” Joel comments with an impressed whistle, settling onto the couch next to you, the distance between you enough that you’re hoping you can stay focused on the movie. His warmth radiates though, his broad shoulders looking so damn big, fuck, on your couch and his legs spread open as he relaxes back a bit. You try to make your shaky exhale as discreet as possible before grabbing the popcorn bowl from the table and plopping it between the two of you.

“What are we watchin’, then?”

“Killer Lake 3. oOooh,” you tell him, wiggling your fingers in an attempt to make it sound creepier, but Joel just laughs and shakes his head at you, running his fingers over tired eyelids.

“Ain’t seen that one yet, makes me kinda nervous, that uh, whole series,” he admits, and you kind of like the idea of knowing something small and intimate about him, something vulnerable.

“Me too,” you admit, holding back a chuckle, your hand over your mouth.

Joel sits forward, shooting you an incredulous look. “And yet you were watchin’ this… all alone in your house?”

“It’s called living on the edge, or something,” you reply with a laugh. “Besides, not alone anymore, am I? I’ve got a victim to suffer with me.”

Joel huffs and crosses his arms. “Just play the damn thing before I can chicken out.” He settles back again, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him as he never fully relaxes, his body taut while he keeps his arms tucked into each other. You find yourself hoping that at least part of the reason he seems tense is he’s just as nervous as you are to be sitting so close on the couch together, able to feel the heat of each other’s bodies, the scent of the other person permeating the space. You try not to breathe in too noticeably when you catch the smell of him - musky, a little outdoorsy, and something else a little less like his natural scent, an aftershave or deodorant. It’s all equally intoxicating, you think to yourself, trying not to let your brain become too muddled by it.

The doorbell rings several times while you two are watching, each time you and Joel pause the movie to coo over the little trick or treaters together. You feel your heart flutter at the thought of those who don’t know you two, who would think you’re just any other couple living together. Your insides are nearly bursting at the thought, not realizing just how badly you’d wanted that with Joel, this sweet domesticity. Now that it was within your reach, a little taste of it playing over in your mind, you don’t know how to go back to how things were before this night.

The movie still isn’t finished when 8:30 hits, but you get up to turn the porch light off, signaling the end of the trick or treaters for the night. Joel stands up awkwardly in your living room, hands fiddling in front of his belly. He clears his throat and glances at the carpeting before he looks back up to you. 

“Love to stay, and finish the movie off, if that’s alright,” Joel offers before you can even say anything, and you nod eagerly. “Couldn't leave you all alone with this scary shit now.”

“My hero,” you tease, calling back to your earlier conversation. You clasp your hands over your heart with a grin, and Joel chuckles, rubbing his neck.

When you two sit back down, you start to realize that every time you've gotten up from the couch to give out candy and sat back down, you and Joel have gotten a little more comfortable, bodies less rigid and tense, able to sit a little bit closer to each other. You realize you’ve barely been paying attention as the movie plays again when Joel makes a sound at something happening on the screen, so you try to focus so he can’t tell just how affected you are by his presence or how lost in thought you are. 

“S-shit,” Joel calls out, jumping a bit in his seat, clutching his chest with one hand. The other one flies over to your thigh, where he holds on for dear life, squeezing you there. He quickly pulls it off, before you can even fully register it, trying at the last second to memorize the feeling but coming up short, too stunned to even believe that it really happened. Joel seems to tear his gaze from the movie, both of his hands clutched in his lap, fiddling nervously. 

“I’m - uh, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Just got me jumpin’, didn’t mean to, well…” Joel stutters out, gesturing to your leg. You’re sure if the room was more light, you’d see a flush creeping over his cheeks. He can’t believe he’s embarrassed himself in front of one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever known, one he’s sure is completely out of his league. It hasn’t stopped him from being excited to see you every time he’s had the pleasure of getting to have a conversation with you or simply see you pass by his house on a walk or run. He’s in deep, he knows it, and now he may have just ruined his chance to reveal his feelings to you the right way. 

“Oh,” you say plainly. “It’s totally fine, I nearly did the same thing,” you say with a chuckle, trying to laugh it off. 

You feel the skin on your thigh buzz beneath your pants where his hand had been for that brief second though, and your heart doesn’t seem to be interested in calming down its incessant thundering. You want more, you want to feel his hand back right where it was, the strength of his arm slung around your shoulder, his touch nearly anywhere on your body. You’ve never been alone with Joel this long and it’s starting to get to you, sending your mind reeling.

That brief touch suddenly has you gathering up your courage, so you turn your body to face Joel a little better and breathe in deeply.

Now or never. 

Your heart thuds harder and your stomach tightens into knots, but you strengthen your resolve and square your body a little, trying to give yourself a false confidence. 

“Actually…” you say, clearing your throat quietly. Joel’s attention quickly snaps from the television back to your face, and you nearly lose any semblance of bravery at his gaze locked so firmly on yours. “I didn’t mind, at all. If you wanted to do that again, or anything like that, uh, maybe,” you tell him, cursing yourself for stumbling on your words, for making it sound so unsexy to ask him to put his hand on your thigh. 

You pull your lips inward and press them together, sure that your widened eyes are giving away the complete terror you feel as you await his reply. It feels like years creep by of his face looking completely taken aback until you see the corner of his mouth twitch up, his eyes starting to go a little softer with a twinkle in them. 

“What, like, uh,” Joel clears his own throat now. “Like this?” 

His hand slides over from his lap, much slower and intentional this time, landing on your thigh, right above your knee. It feels like heaven - his grip firm and protective but also soft and caring at the same time. His fingers flex a little, giving away his nervousness before he settles on a few errant rubs of his thumb. 

“Yeah” You give him a toothy smile. “Like that.”

“Wouldn’t mind one bit if you wanted to hold onto me, an’ all that. Since the movie’s so scary, ‘course,” Joel says, sounding more bashful than you’ve ever heard him with his voice lowered.

You feel yourself smiling wider and wider, your face nearly feeling like it’s going to crack soon with the excitement you feel. Joel’s own heart is fluttering more than it has in ages and he wills it to calm down before he gets too excited about his crush, for Christ’s sake, simply cuddling with him. 

“Of course, since the movie’s so scary,” you tease, biting your lip anxiously. You tentatively scoot closer to Joel, pressing your thighs flush with his as you curl up on the couch, tucking your feet up next to you on the opposite side. You bring your hand up to his bicep, wrapping it around the muscle before gingerly laying your head onto his shoulder. Every movement feels a little stiff at first, testing these new and exciting waters with each other.

Joel lets out a quiet hum of satisfaction, one he’s not sure that you heard until you sigh lightly in response and his heart leaps along with yours, the two of you tensely holding one another. Joel feels you start to relax first, your attention half back on the movie, and he takes the initiative to let go of some of his own tension, letting his hand wander a bit more on your thigh.

By the end of the movie, you and Joel are entwined together, his arm slung behind your shoulders, your hands clasped together and palms sweaty from the intensity of the film and being so close to each other. You’ve migrated onto the top of Joel’s chest, resting your head there. Joel thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as he keeps getting delicious whiffs of your shampoo at that angle - a scent he tries to burn into his memory for when this evening inevitably ends. 

When the credits start to roll, neither of you move, not wanting to break whatever spell it seems the two of you are under. Joel reaches for the remote, turning the movie off before tossing it aside and resting a finger under your chin. He gently pushes, urging you to tilt your head to look up at him. The little, curious noise you let out at his touch makes Joel’s insides instantly turn to fire, his body tensing up and muscles going taut. Just the touch of his calloused finger under your soft chin has a heat licking up your spine, then settling deep inside your gut.

“This was nice,” you murmur, now looking up at him and blinking slowly. He can hardly believe that the look in your eye - the starry, eager, content look - has anything to do with him. His eyes drift down to where your lips look so pouty and inviting right now, parted slightly as you wait to hear from him. 

Joel leans forward a little, sliding his fingers up from your chin to your cheek, cupping it softly. He brushes his lips across yours, so lightly you can barely feel it at first, sensing his hesitancy. You meet him in the middle, and you can feel the smile on his lips as they meet yours in full, pressing into you with a romantically soft kiss. You moan wantonly into it, having wanted and dreamed of this moment countless times. Your hand cups his face in return, gently scratching your fingers through his beard and he lets out his own satisfied groan now before pulling away. 

“That okay?” he asks quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Joel,” you say, your own voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting that to happen for like, almost a year now, so yes.”

Joel blinks hard in surprise. “That long?” he asks, his tone going lower with suggestion as his brows quirk a little. He keeps his hand on your cheek, rubbing along your jawline with his thumb. 

“Mhm. That long,” you murmur with a nod, closing the small gap between your faces once more as you press your lips into his. You make a small moaning sound deep in your throat and barely pull your lips off of his to utter feels nice. 

Your enthusiasm urges Joel on, a quiet groan making its way out of his throat as he deepens the kiss, sliding his hand from your cheek up to the back of your head and burying it in your hair. His fingers along your scalp feels so heavenly that you can’t help the satisfied mewl that comes out of you.

Joel’s hands start to explore a little more, curving down your back with a firm touch, his fingers tracing along your spine. You nearly shudder and then gasp when his calloused pads find their way underneath the bottom of your tank top, touching bare skin now, the heat of his hands blazing into you. You can feel how heavily you’re breathing already, the tension building and nearly unbearable. It feels like a dream, this moment you’d thought so much about happening, wishing for his touch and his lips and his body just like this. Your hands wrap around his neck to keep him pulled close, desperately trying to keep this moment from slipping away from you.

He surprises you by lifting you onto his lap, hands enveloping your plush hips as he tugs you over to straddle him. You gladly and willingly move your body along to where he guides you, settling on top of his lap with your heart beating out of your chest. It all feels so natural but has you giddy, nearly jumping out of your skin with the quickening pace of your kisses. Your bodies meld to one another effortlessly, your hips sinking down further into his lap as you grind a little into each other.

Every movement, touch, and synced breath is pure bliss as you two continue devouring everything the other is putting out, tongues dancing with one another and now swollen lips pressing into each other. All the pent up longing and burning desire coursing through you now has an outlet, and you try to hold back a moan that pushes up through your throat to not seem too desperate, but Joel beats you to it, a little groan slipping past his lips. He pulls away slowly, peppering the corners of your mouth with a few kisses before slowly opening his eyes, now gazing at you with a heady, half-lidded look. You meet his expression curiously, your heart still thundering as you lazily scratch along the back of his neck.

“W-would it make me look like a complete idiot if I said,” Joel starts, keeping his hands steadily wrapped around your hips, fingers still splayed all the way to your ass. “I wanna take y’on a date before we go any further? Know it’s old fashioned, but…”

You laugh quietly, sincere and sweet, at his honesty and apprehension, watching his cheeks reddening and mouth a little agape as he awaits your reply. You palm his chest with your free hand, spreading your fingers out and brushing them dotingly across the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Not at all,” you tell him, your voice coming out a little cracked, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, savoring the way they mingle so quickly into yours without hesitation. “I think I’d like that, too,” you add on, giving him an encouraging smile.

You see him breathe out, shoulders sagging in relief while his mouth twitches upwards. “Good,” he sighs, “‘Cause I really wanna take you out, darlin’. Been wantin’ to…” he says with a lopsided smile now, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Maybe I’ve been wanting to, too,” you tease, leaning your head down to rest on his shoulder, snuggling into him, letting the moment become comfortable, any expectations on the two of you lifted for now.

“Couldn’t tell or anythin’, by the way you hopped on top of me,” Joel jokes, breaking the tension even more. It feels like any other day, now, like you tease each other while you curl yourself up on his lap all the time. It amazes you how little discomfort or awkwardness you feel right now around Joel despite the major shift in your relationship only moments ago.

“You pulled me up here, you ass,” you quip back, lightly hitting him on his other shoulder.

“That I did, sugar,” he says more sweetly now, kissing your forehead, warm and sticky. “Wanna go out w’me this Friday, then?” he asks, and you pick your head up to smile at him, tenderly curling your fingers around his cheek, still getting used to the feeling of touching him so freely.

“Friday? Not sooner?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip and trying to give him your best version of sweet, pleading eyes.

“Eager, are you?”

You kiss him again in reply, letting your tongue slip into his mouth again and he meets it hungrily with his own, his hands snaking around your back to your ass and squeezing the globes greedily. You can feel his arousal, pressing hard where your warm heat meets his, thighs gripping around his legs tightly. He has to practically tear himself away and you can see the mischief in his dark eyes growing by the second.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, a little breathless now. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” You slip off of his lap and plop next to him on the couch again, stifling a yawn now that you’re coming down from the quick boost of adrenaline your make-out session with Joel had given you. 

“I should head out, but…” Joel says when he notices your tiredness, putting a warm hand on your thigh. “I’m lookin’ forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you reply with a wide grin. You stand up from the couch with him, walking to the door together with your fingers brushing, not seeming to want to be without the other’s touch.

“Pick you up right here at 6:00 tomorrow, yeah?” Joel stands in your open doorway, lingering on shifting feet as you nod in agreement. He leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, this one feeling just as new as the others and you instantly lose yourself to it, breathing in his scent and memorizing the feel of his plush lips on yours for the final time tonight.

“Goodnight,” you say quietly, planting one more peck on his cheek, wiry stubble around his beard tickling your lips. He ambles down your walkway, and while you’re admiring the view, leaning against your doorframe he turns back, giving you a sheepish, crooked smile.

“Hey,” he says, stopping where he stands. “Happy Halloween, darlin’,”

You can’t help the smile that bursts onto your face, your heart soaring at the adorable pet name, the locks of Joel’s hair sticking out in all directions, and the near puppy dog eyes he’s giving you right now. This right here, this Joel Miller is one you know not everybody is lucky enough to see, and you’re so grateful you’re getting a glimpse of it tonight.

You lift a hand and wave as you step back inside and call out to him. 

“Happy Halloween, Joel.”

dividers from saradika !

[jon-snows-man-bun]

By Turns

Chapter Fourteen

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Chapter contains smut, violent ideations, discussions of trauma, misogyny, domestic violence, female genital mutilation (ie wing clipping), extremely brief non-con (blink and you miss it, from nobody we like), and alcohol abuse.

Cut an Azriel jacking off scene because it wasn't plot essential and we've clocked in at 6.3k words. Let me know if you want it.

Thank you everyone for being so patient, and happy new year! And for every lovely comment and question I got. I love you. Hold my hand and let's shit on Velaris together.

Azriel was heavy as he stepped through the shadows. He’d been dreading bringing Aisling to Velaris, dreading managing her integration. It had to happen; keeping her in the Moonstone Palace wasn’t doing them any favours – with Eris, with the Hewn City, or with her – but the thought of telling her and keeping a shadow on her was only slightly less exhausting than the thought of continuing to stay at the palace and winnowing constantly between locations.

It was fucking annoying. The only reason he spent the time here was because he enjoyed the suffering, in a masochistic sort of way – it was so miserable, and Aisling was so obscure and sly about everything. It always felt as if she were in on some joke he wasn’t, and she was simply waiting for him to catch up. It had been that way when she asked about his hands, drawing him out by playing stupid then pouncing on the only fucking vulnerability he couldn’t hide. It infuriated him, feeling like he’d been outmanoeuvred because of a false assumption. Basic, simple mistakes Rhys’ father had whipped out of him long ago.

And thinking about Eris Vanserra and his motivations this much made him all but break out in hives. Was Eris toying with her, or was he smitten, or was he merely doing the bare minimum as expected of any newly-mated male and didn’t intend to use her beyond as a broodmare? At times Azriel was convinced of any one of the three, only to pick up a new bit of information and change his mind. Eris was difficult – but not impossible – to predict, and Aisling was cagey about him. She was too well-trained in courtly arts to give him a genuine answer, and too guarded and aware of her position to slip up.

He had to have told her something, be up to something, for her to be so sly. Rhys was right to be paranoid, but Azriel was starting to accept that if they ever genuinely wanted to know Eris’ plans, Rhys would have to go into her mind. Perhaps there was a way to do that delicately – Rhys always disliked invading minds, and if all of this didn’t reveal any answers as to the source of tensions in the Hewn City or uncover intent from Eris then it would merely drive a wedge further between them all. Eris had already been furious at the invasion of his brothers and soldiers’ minds after offering up his own to Rhys. To do the same to his mate out of suspicion of him would be, perhaps, the final slap he wouldn’t ignore.

Rhys had already decided to do it, though, to protect his family, his city. Those fifty years under Amarantha and the battle against Hybern had proven that there was nothing he wasn’t willing to do. Azriel had seen shadows of it before, but after Amarantha, his brother became ruthless in his ferocious drive to protect. Azriel assumed it was because of Feyre, and now Nyx; how the mating bond was not just a thing to be possessed but something that shaped you back.

What changes would be wrought in Eris? Perhaps Eris wouldn’t care how they handled Aisling if he wanted her only to breed the next litter of Vanserra pricks. Eris had never cared for females that Azriel had seen in all his surveillance; he acted like they were chattel to him, fucking them like whores then turning them out. Azriel had tried to send his own spies to Eris’ bed twice. The first time he hadn’t touched her, but on the second… The informant - a female he’d trained himself and had employed as a serving maid in the Forest House – had been visibly distraught when she told him Eris had barely said a word to her. She didn’t detail what he had done to her in lieu of talking, but she’d had dark bruises and bite marks sucked up and down her neck.

That had been in the century following Mor, when Azriel burned most brightly for revenge. Azriel had sent the spy back in - to one of Eris’ brothers that time - and had never seen her again. It had been another loss that he added to their already sizeable tally.

His thoughts were running in circles uselessly. He was overly tired. Nuala met him in the hall as he arrived at the Moonstone Palace, her dark eyes shadowed and her lips pursed. “Good luck,” was all she said, slipping off to her own rooms, long hair swirling with the shadows that drifted off her like smoke. That wasn’t promising. Azriel frowned, wondering if this was the day Aisling finally threw the hissy fit she’d been building up to.

He came across Aisling laying on a chaise, drunk as a pleasure hall patron and eating raw organ-meat with her bare hands. She was licking the blood off her fingers, eyes half-shut and the tips of her pointed ears practically quivering in pleasure.

“Duck’s liver,” she said finally, head tossed back, making a heady sound in the back of her throat. “Delicious. Help yourself.”

Azriel’s mouth twisted. Her voice had a thick, dreamy quality, and he had never seen her looking so rumpled. She was draped over the chaise like a discarded blanket, gossamer black gown pooled around her as lightly as cobwebs. It did little to hide her body. He was used to seeing such styles in the context of the Court of Nightmares, and she’d been wearing similar dresses for the time she’d been here, but now with her sauced as a goose and lounging indulgently across the furniture –

His eyes strayed, then darted back to her face. His shadows clung to him instinctively, hiding where he’d been looking as he sat heavily in an armchair opposite her. He’d tell her that she’d be moved. He wouldn’t warn her about Rhys; better to catch her unaware with that.

Azriel took the time to study her as he sat and Aisling lolled with her eyes closed. She couldn’t have been any further from Elain, and yet they were mated to two brothers - and Eris and Lucien were more alike than they were different, both slick, manipulative courtiers. The Mother was either blind or working to a plan none of them could conceive, in Azriel’s estimation.

The thought of Elain made his palms itch, the familiar sense of shame slinking through him and making him shift down in the armchair. Vanserras got mates. High Lords got mates. Cassian, with his fierce, warm heart, got a mate. Azriel didn’t, and should put it from his mind – it wasn’t for someone like him, and centuries of longing for Mor only for her to avoid him had made that clear.

He told himself to make his peace with it, even as shame and anger curdled together while he watched Eris Vanserra’s spoiled child of a mate lick blood off her hands. In the absence of anything to do she was making her own fun, like any faerie. But with none to torment she seemed to have turned her destructive impulses inward.

“If you are bored you will be very amused tomorrow,” Azriel finally said, when she showed no interest in speaking to him. She didn’t sit up, merely lolling on her side, studying him with knowing dark eyes. 

“Am I to be killed?” She asked, as if about the weather.

“You’ll be brought to Velaris.” Azriel poured himself a glass of wine after she gestured lazily at the bottle to him.

“Alive? Or only my head?” She was amused now, watching him drink. She was stroking the velvet of the couch rhythmically, petting it like it was an animal, eyes occasionally going unfocused. He caught them for a moment and saw that they were all pupil, only a thin sickle crescent of blue on the edge of the deep well of black.

“Alive, and all of you. Including your headache,” Azriel said, looking pointedly at the half-empty bottle on the table, the bloody plate, the empty bottle she’d already been through on its side on the floor.

Aisling laughed, rolling on to her stomach, idly conjuring darkness. She waited, letting it pool, then lazily flicked it at one of his shadows as it skittered across the floor. 

Azriel cleared his throat. She seemed moody and contemplative today – had probably snapped at Nuala, judging by Nuala’s expression as she left – and unwilling to talk. That was too bad for her; if she was to be moved, she’d need to know the same rules that would govern Keir when he inevitably infected Velaris.

“Velaris is peaceful, when you get there. You must be respectful. It is not as the Hewn City is. You will not be in any danger, so long as you do not pose any.” Azriel swallowed his wine, remembering the conversations he had had with Rhys’ mother as a child. The ways she had coaxed him like a wounded, feral animal; how she had watched him eat hiding under the table, sleep in the closet, sit in the corners of the cabin. Violence had been the first common language he shared with Rhys and Cass – their only shared trait, not even his wings worked correctly – but Ejona had taught him everything else: how to walk and talk and stand like he wasn’t a stain on the world.

“Have I not been a very well-behaved house pet?” Aisling complained, swiping her finger through the congealed blood on the plate and sucking it off. “Have I bitten you even once?”

Azriel looked pointedly at the very expensive wine bottles. If Aisling was embarrassed to be caught sauced, she didn’t show it. That was the High Fae in her: arrogant, never ashamed, always sure of themselves. Aisling poured him another glass at his stare.

“Rhys requires respect in Velaris,” Azriel said. “No violence.”

“Why are you telling me?” Aisling said. “I am not the one with the penchant for violence. Do you fear I will treat your home as you treat mine? I will not.”

She said it with no heat, and the gleam in her black eyes told him she was baiting him. She’d sussed out quickly that he was reluctant to hurt her and had been playing with claws ever since; she drew blood on occasion.

He huffed out a breath at the absurdity of Aisling taking the moral high ground, but he shrugged off the accusation. The Hewn City was hardly Velaris; it required a different role, a different way of handling.

His breath of laughter had encouraged her. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why you creep around so?”

“Hardly.” Azriel drank from his glass again as Aisling rolled around on the chaise like a cat, tossing silk pillows about until she was comfortable. “Is this how you act in the Court of Nightmares?”

“Of course,” she said, surprised. “What do you think we do all day?”

“Torment each other.”

“Only on holidays,” she replied, so seriously he wasn’t sure if she meant it or not. “What do Illyrians do all day? Swing swords and fly around?”

Azriel felt the edges of his lips kick up. “Yes. And torment each other.”

Aisling studied him closely, propping her head up on one hand. Her eyes were glassy, but Azriel was reminded of the way she looked at him before she asked about his hands. She was more perceptive than she pretended, and sharp enough to cut herself. Mor and Cass thought she was stupid, Rhys and Feyre thought her scheming or cruel or both, but Azriel saw the outline of something different.

“If I had wings you would need to tether me to the ground,” she said finally, rolling on to her back. “I would go wherever I pleased. If I misliked somewhere I would simply fly away to somewhere new.”

Azriel kept quiet, wine suddenly churning in his gut. That was all he had wished for as a child, trapped in the dark; every Illyrian had the instinct to fly, and he had spent hours each day with his eyes against to the single air brick as soon as he was tall enough. He pressed his tongue to it sometimes, to taste the fresh air as it passed through the small squares. He had heard the wind calling him, singing of far-off lovely places where there weren’t stone walls and brothers waiting to hurt him, and he had spent hours imagining what leaving would be like and all the places he would go. He imagined palaces in the sky, had furnished them in his own mind, laying pretend banquets and eating the dishes one by one.

He would have died without that air brick. The imprisonment would have been too much. He would have simply curled up in the dark, waited for death to find him, and held out his hand for it.

“That’s why females are clipped,” he said, and the anger that took him whenever he thought about Illyria reared its head again. “So they cannot leave their camps.” His culture’s perpetual shame. Death would not be enough to fix them.

Aisling wasn’t surprised. “Males are ever the same, high or low. They hold you so tightly it breaks you.” She sighed, blinking slowly. “Then they call that care.”

“Is that what you fear Vanserra will do to you?” Azriel asked.

Aisling didn’t look at him, instead conjuring darkness to swirl through the air above her with one finger. It wasn’t like Rhys’ darkness – there were no stars, no constellations adding texture and depth. It was just silken blackness.

“I’m not afraid,” she said finally, her eyes half-lidded. “My chambers will have windows. He said there are many trees to look at….” She trailed away, lolling back against the foot of the chaise, sliding down. Azriel’s mouth twisted at that – ‘many trees’ was an understatement for Autumn – but it dropped off his face when he realised that it was likely on her mind because she’d never seen any. None in the Hewn City, none on the mountain slopes here, and she’d in all certainty never been anywhere else. They kept their females cloistered down there.

Windows. Trees. Azriel could taste that air brick still. He took a deep drink of his wine to chase it away, but it lingered at the back of his throat. Salt and stone and tears, the hot blood of a rat, the rust-flavoured water - he could taste it all the time.

“You don’t need to accept it,” he said suddenly. “Rhys changed the laws. You are not compelled to accept the bond if you do not wish to.”

It took Aisling a long moment to realise he had spoken - she was staring out the window, head tipped upside down off the end of the chaise. When she finally processed what he said she looked at him with eyes like two new moons.

“Lord Eris would war with you for that,” she said, long hair brushing the marble floor as she spoke. “Perhaps you have said the law is changed, but I doubt the High Lord values my independence so deeply as for all that.”

It was true. Rhys would hand her over if it came to war. And it would: even if Eris didn’t give a fuck about his mate – unimaginable to Azriel but extremely likely from Eris – he couldn’t afford to look so weak as to let them keep hold of her. Females were still property in Autumn, as in the Hewn City; it would be embarrassing for him, and Azriel knew from his informants that he was still wrangling Autumn nobility on the fence about rallying behind him. Their culture was as broken as Illyria’s, despite all their wealth and aristocracy. His shadows were writhing now, zipping about the room, betraying his anger.

“Don’t look so dour on my behalf,” Aisling was saying, sitting up. “To be female is to be controlled. You become accustomed to it.”

“It isn’t right.”

“And yet here I am, your grateful guest.” She fixed him with a bored look. “Don’t wring your hands over it now, after it’s already been done. It’s insulting.”

Azriel felt his lip curl at her in irritation. She was hardly being mistreated – he’d watched Keir bounce her head off a table, for fuck’s sake, and he doubted that was the worst she’d ever been handed from her utter lack of reaction. Sitting on her ass in the moonstone palace was a luxury in comparison. She also didn’t understand the larger forces at play, the balance Rhys was trying to achieve across Prythian, the pressures he needed to exert to make it happen.

“So terribly droll,” Aisling said. She seemed to be sobering, though her eyes were still dark as pits. Any drunken levity they’d had earlier was souring into ill temper. “Lord Eris will buy me twice over when it’s all done with, but I’m yet to see a drop of commission. But every male around me prospers.”

“There’s more at stake than you know,” Azriel said flatly, shaking his head. She was a child; a bored, spoiled child. She was blessed with wealth, beauty, a mate, immense magic – and still she tossed him a sour look as she sauntered from the room.

“I imagine they tell themselves that in Illyria, too,” she snapped over her shoulder, lean form silhouetted against the moonlight as she crossed in front of the great arched windows. “From my perspective you all rather look the same.”

Azriel slammed back his glass of wine, fist gripping the glass so tightly it groaned from the pressure.

-------

Aisling had slunk off to her chambers as the sun started rising, anger threatening to spill over into a messy scene. Her chest hurt from the pressure of keeping herself contained. Even as she leaned a hand against one of the columns that formed the series of tall open arches, breathing in the crisp air of the rising sun, she couldn’t shake the restlessness.

The marble was smooth and polished under her palm and the mountaintops were a blushing rosy pink as the sun crept up, but the sight only nettled her. An empty palace on top of her mountain with walls made of windows and air.

Aisling stepped away from the edge of the balcony and waved a hand. The curtains swung closed obediently, and the view was covered with darkness.

Earlier that morning she had woken up with the same restlessness, more bored and frustrated than she’d been in her whole life. Fear had no room to grow anymore, suffocated beneath the weight of anger and boredom she’d built up over the weeks in the empty, airy palace. She had wanted to scream. She had wanted to cry. She had wanted to tear the velvet cushions apart, rip down the curtains, stab Azriel and Nuala and then herself. She had wanted to touch the snow with her bare hands. She had wanted to leap from the balconies. She had wanted to grab Eris by the pale curve of his throat and squeeze until he burned the entire moonstone palace to ash. She had settled for getting drunk.

That had been a poor idea, it turned out.

Normally wine dropped a sheet of glass between her mind and her eyes: she could glide through court, through anything, looking and moving but not really seeing. Everyone in the City drank to excess as far as she could tell; perhaps for different reasons, but Aisling liked watching all that happened through a window rather than her own two eyes. It made the bouts of sudden, vicious violence easier to swallow, made her face easier to arrange into a pleasant, cow-eyed mask. Everything she felt and thought was contained inside, hers and hers alone, like a little silver locket.

Wine didn’t make the locket break open. It must have been Azriel – she had been adrift in a pleasant lake, any frustration or anger nicely packaged and sealed away, before he started speaking to her. He had a core of icy anger that ran through him like a curse, and she had just touched the edge of it, enough to burn herself.

He had been so…. Aisling huffed a sigh as she stripped off her dress and crawled under the blankets of her bed naked. It was a different sort of knife, one she wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to defend against. His eyes looked angry, and his mouth said sympathetic things, but his hands still held the leash. Hers – and the City’s.

Aisling was bored and irritable and unhappy. She was adrift and lashing out like a child when she needed to keep it within herself as she always did. She was so malcontent, tossing and turning despite the silk bedding and gentle darkness, that it bled into her dream.

When she finally slept, Eris came to her.

His hand wrapped around her ankle and she was up, only to be dragged down the mattress and into his waiting hands. In her dream it was night and the moon was full, and Eris was illuminated in a way she had never seen him, glowing and warm against the endless night sky.

“Little mate,” he crooned; that silken, aristocratic drawl, the smooth Autumn accent. “Did you miss me? Did you long for me?”

Aisling aimed a kick at his head with her other leg. It only made him laugh, catching that ankle as well, biting her hard on the calf.

“Don’t be so wroth with me.”

He was on her then, straight away, licking her teeth as she clawed at him, suddenly eager to hurt him. It only made him laugh again and roll over, pulling her astride him effortlessly. He was laid out beneath her like a banquet, his hands skimming their way up her bare thighs. She could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing at the seam of his trousers underneath her bare cunt.

Eris studied her then with his head cocked to the side, naked and perched atop him, his brilliant red hair spilled over the pillows. His hands rested on the curve of her hip, amber eyes sizzling with inner flame in the darkened bedroom. His face was unreadable, unknowable to her. He was bathed silver in the holy glow of moonlight.

It was her dream, though. Aisling drew back and slapped him as hard she could. It only made his cock twitch underneath her, and he groaned as he ground her down against him, seeking relief. Aisling’s breath caught at the friction.

“Cruel female,” he panted, forcing her hips to grind faster. “Hurt me all you like. It’s nothing to me. Soon we’ll make others hurt worse.”

“I hate this place,” she whispered as he rubbed her against himself. “I hate it. I hate it.”

“A test of patience,” Eris groaned, raising her for a moment, desperately unlacing his trousers. “Sharpen your knife in secret, mate, be patient.”

She sank down on his bared cock, and she felt everything and nothing at the same time, as was the nature of dreams.

“I hate it,” she chanted, “I hate it I hate it,” as she rode his cock, “I hate it here,” as she dug ten crimson pinpricks of blood in the smooth muscle of his chest. In her dream he felt like the same polished moonstone as the palace but warm and living, full of fire and magic and blood. He grabbed a handful of her ass, sitting up and moving her how he wanted, so she could wind her arms around his pale neck and speak it directly from her mouth to his.

“I hate them,” she whispered as Eris nipped her bottom lip, the heat of him simmering, scalding, making her sweat.

“Patience,” he murmured. “Trust and patience.” His amber eyes drank her down greedily, the same as they did that night, as he took everything she offered and a little extra, too. She rode him the same, taking what she wanted from him – even if he gave her nothing else, he could give her an orgasm, and Aisling felt the burn in her thighs and in her cunt as she sank to the root of his cock.

She felt disoriented as she sprung awake, panting and hot all over like a fever.

The purple silk blankets were tangled around her in a great knot, and she was slick all over – in her eyes, behind her knees, between her legs. She was dizzy and sick and like she’d die if Eris didn’t touch her immediately, that instant. The bond was strung tight against her ribs and twanging like the string of a lute. It was a writhing, painful ache, desperate to find its missing half, caught rasping on the sour note left between them.

That was how she felt in this empty palace: a missing half, like she’d been clipped neatly from everyone she’d known and lost like a broken earring between the back of a couch and the wall. Never to be seen again, collecting dust and cobwebs. She waved the curtains open with a flick and the blue hour was revealed: somewhere between lightness and darkness, the sun having gone round to the other side of the mountain, any light turned indigo and sleek.

She knew how the magic of dreams worked - she had worked with it all her life. The dream was too surrealistic, too fantastical and nonsensical to have been dropped directly in her mind; more likely, she had felt Eris’ desire and longing and her heart had filled in the details with its own whims.

Aisling was staring down the narrow path of a dynastic political match, and not even in her heart’s most private fantasies was Eris anything other than arrogant and high-handed with her. He didn’t want to hurt her and fucked like a demon but she couldn’t imagine ever having a partner in him like Niamh had with Padraig. Her dream had left her muddled up, a frustrating mix of angry and hot. Eris, Azriel, and her headache all joined hands in her head.

Trust and patience, Eris had said in her dream, but she was a rough hand at both.

She had soaked in the beautiful bathtub, staring off the edge of the world as the sky changed colours, until Nuala summoned her.

“The High Lord is coming to speak to you before we leave,” was all she said. Aisling’s mood soured, last night’s wine churning up her stomach and head; Azriel’s dark presence was no help as she took a seat on a carved chair to wait. Neither of them spoke, which was for the best, considering she was saving her limited reserve of deferential words for the High Lord.

He arrived soon after the moon rose. A last quarter moon, a harbinger of change, teetering in the balance. He trailed darkness and stars in his wake.

She wasn’t speaking with Azriel, too hungover and tetchy, but he vastly preferred silence and didn’t seem to care. But still she rose, and gave the High Lord the barest curtsy she could get away with, remembering how he’d laughed as she’d bled all over the floor with her head smashed in.

The High Lord was dressed in black, both his clothing and the darkness he wore around him like a cloak. His power was a tangible thing, his magic a suffocating cloud that filled the room and wanted to squeeze her to the floor. Her hair stood on end, the back of her neck prickling as his eyes swept over her, stuffing his hands in his pockets casually. The swirling, writhing tattoos decorating his hands and forearms were on display.

A bargain-mark was an ill thing in her City, a mark of someone who needed to be coerced by magic to uphold their promises. Breaking oaths was already severe enough a crime, but to need the threat of magical punishment on top? The more you had the more untrustworthy you were, the more unreliable, the more bound by others’ claims on your actions. Her own skin was unmarked. The High Lord’s was covered – palm to neck, foot to kneecap, and likely more she’d never see.

She did not trust him. He was not of them, no matter who sired him.

“Aisling,” he greeted her, a dark smirk on his too-handsome face. “I trust you’ve been well looked after here, as our guest.”

Bastard. “You are a gracious host, High Lord,” she said, and no more. Better to speak too little than too much.

“Keir is now claiming you as his true daughter,” the High Lord said, studying her with violet eyes. “He claims he raised you by his own hand after the death of your father, and that you are more a daughter to him than the get of his body. Is this true?”

Aisling knew when to perform. She betrayed no hint of her surprise. “The Lord Steward is a father to the whole Court,” she said. “I follow him as loyally as any child.”

Lord Keir didn’t give a fuck about her and would probably actually vastly prefer it if she were dead. He had to be scheming for something – either her wealth, or because –

“Eris has not yet asked for you to be sent to him,” the High Lord said idly, propping his head in one palm, elbow casually on the table. “But don’t worry. We’ll look after you. It’s far too dangerous in the Hewn City right now to return you. But you know all about that, don’t you?”

She knew this game, the question that was not a question. She kept silent, carefully studying the wall above the High Lord’s right ear.

“I’d like to take a small look in your mind,” he said, undeterred by her studied silence. “Only a quick peek, really. At nothing personal – whatever sweet nothings Eris whispered in your ear, those can stay your own. I know how special a female’s first time can be.”

Aisling wanted to vomit.

“But I think you may have forgotten something that may be helpful for us in pacifying the Court of Nightmares. It’s your home, after all. Wouldn’t you like to see it stable and prosperous? Even a little morsel from you might help us do that.” His teeth flashed white. Azriel’s shadows circled slowly, like smoke, drifting through the dark room.

“I am but a servant of the Court,” her mouth said, while she got her mind ready. “I serve you loyally.”

“Quite,” he said, studying her with his brow furrowed. She felt a small scrape at the walls of her mind.

Was the High Lord within already? Aisling pictured Lord Thanatos’ face very clearly, taking a small silver spoon and scooping out his eye. Then she ate it like a fat grape.

She felt Rhysand’s presence then, a dark ribbon that didn’t belong, threading through her awareness of the world with a sudden chill. It was like a black spot on the edge of her vision, only in her mind’s eye instead. The pressure of it, of containing two in a skull designed for one, made her temples throb.

Across from her the High Lord smiled. “We all wish we could do that.”

He went deeper then. She felt those sharp dark talons dig in, and Aisling stilled though he did not hold her, horrified. It felt as if he had ripped the dress straight off her back or shoved his hand into her ribcage; an invasion, a humiliation, something intimate and done so casually that it was shocking.

The talons found the secret spaces in her mind, homing in on the dark pit that she pulled from when she wanted to send nightmares and misery. He dredged through the black hole of her heart, fishing out the miserable things she put away to forget and popped the locks off them one by one.

She let out a grunt as she hit the stone with a hard thud. “Don’t waste my time,” Keir hissed at her, grinding her face against the obsidian slab –

– blow from the back of Lord Thanatos’ hand blindsided her. His hand cracked across her face hard enough to stun her and sent –

He was as good as his word, looking no more than a glimpse at the things he wasn’t searching for. But still they kept coming, as fast as he could dig.

– Choked hard as Evander forced her head all the way to his pelvis, her nose pressed against his skin, and she forced herself to relax and not fight it. “Fuck,” he groaned above her, releasing her with a wet suck –

– A hard, cold hand ripped the blankets off her as she cried out, dragging her out of bed so her knees scraped across the stone floor as she scrabbled wildly, one fingernail ripping off in the bedframe as she grabbed at it. “Aisling,” her father thundered, “what the fuck have you done – ”

Don’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. She was stone, she was hard diamond. This was pain and humiliation. She’d long since made her peace with both, could live alongside them.

The High Lord kept searching.

– “You were bred for such a purpose, were you not?” Eris snapped. “What else did you presume your role here would be?” –

The Dark Queen’s wild laughter up on the obsidian throne as –

The High Lord let go of that memory quickly, as if scalded. The pressure of those claws eased for half a second and Aisling was on it, grabbing that memory with both hands, dragging it up and forcing it to the forefront of her mind –

The lesser fae had been herded into the streets to wait for their new Queen at the order of the High Lord, and Aisling stared wildly at them all as all the gentry passed by on their way to the throne room. It was more crowded than she had ever seen it, dark streets throned with wild-haired banshees with nails like knives and silvery-grey goblins, trolls towering over the crowd like mossy boulders, gaunt and yellow-eyed Bodachs with arms twice as long as they should be. And everywhere the little dark knockers and coblynau who worked the mines, already shorter than Aisling at eleven years old.

She held her father’s hand and they passed them all by.

The throne room was crowded with all the gentry, every noble faerie and their families, packed in and frightened. She’d only been here a few times and the room had felt enormous, but now it felt small with all the bodies. And on the tall dais was the Dark Queen, her hair the red of old blood, and by her side was the High Lord –

Rhysand tried to pull back, but they were in it now, stuck in the mire of what was to come.

The High Lord knelt before her, and the Queen was smiling a terrible smile, and then she made him lay prone and kiss her feet. Some of the gentry laughed, and then they were the first to die – Aisling’s memories splintered like glass here, snagging on the sharp edges of what her mind had refused to accept and keep hold of – The Queen made them all watch as the horrible creature ate a youngling, starting with her toes, not ending until the steps of the dais were red and sticky, but then all she could feel was the slick, cold burn of her father’s metal armour beneath her cheek as he pressed her to him so she did not see what was happening. She cried hot tears against the metal, her mother pressed trembling into her back, her father’s gauntlets cutting into her waist from how hard he clutched them both. The hot, fetid stink of death and blood, the iron scent of the High Lord’s magic above it all, caging them in, cutting them raggedly in two.

Their own High Lord. The Lord Steward was up on the dais as well, shouting, but all Aisling could see amid all the red and the black was the dark violet of the High Lord’s eyes and his face like stone as he –

He eased out of her mind finally, face drawn and brow furrowed. Azriel was as still as a statue over his shoulder, so deeply in shadow that she could barely make out his profile.

“Rhys…” Azriel said finally, voice grave. The High Lord must have shown him everything as well, brought him along to see every horrible thing that had ever befallen her, every terrible thing she’d ever done. The worst day of her life and every awful day since, chewed over like a hound with a bone, cracked open for secrets hidden in her marrow. Aisling hoped they’d found the truth they sought – the seeds of malcontent had been planted long before she’d ever been born, but what fertile soil Rhysand had made that day…

Aisling was pulled from her thoughts as the High Lord pushed back from the table abruptly, running a hand over his face.

“Do not ever mention that day again or I will carve the memory from your head,” he ordered her, violet eyes burning cold. Aisling could only nod. Azriel stared, stone-faced and brutal, nothing but the High Lord’s weapon once more.

Rhysand was gone, then, striding from the room, winnowing away through a rip of darkness. Azriel couldn’t even stomach looking at her.

“Why did he bow to her?” Aisling finally asked, her voice scraping and raw even to her ears. The High Lord had agreed not to hurt her, but it still felt as those talons had scraped their way into her skull and back out again.

Azriel understood what she was asking. “To protect the Night Court.”

“But he didn’t,” she said, and she could see Azriel’s profile through his shadows, studying her in turn. “He killed us, and watched her kill us. My father died there.”

It was a long moment of silence before Azriel answered again. “To protect Velaris,” he admitted.

She was too raw to be angry, wrung out and hungover. “It was all for Velaris. We suffered and fought for Velaris,” she said, trying the words out.

“He suffered, too,” Azriel insisted. “Greatly. More than I know, for fifty years.”

“Yet he lives now and my father does not.” Azriel had no words for her at that.

-------

A/N: Azriel is like... soooo close to getting it. Justifying Rhys being a bit of a weirdo here based on that scene in ACOTAR where he rifles through Feyre's mind and brings up her sexual fantasies, and when he comments on her tits in front of Tarquin in ACOMAF - remember that? He's GROSS when he's got his mask on, guys.

[swimming-karyss]

I've been thinking about the screwed magnetic fields of the grand line recently, and while that train of thought didn't lead anywhere, the phrase I liked - "an invisible birdcage" - really applied to Sabo's situation nicely.

I mean, it's obvious how much influence Sabo's parents have on him, but have you ever thought that Sabo never felt freedom while he was staying in Goa kingdom? And it's even before he was brought back to his family and properly realized just how messed up nobles are!

We've seen multiple times that his parents treat him as something they own, that he unquestionably belongs to them, and even after running away to the Gray Terminal the feeling of being tied down never went away. It seems like Sabo internalised that so much, that he didn't even realise that he was free this whole time! He was free to choose his future, he was free to choose his family! The only thing holding them down was that they were unprepared to set sail,amd even then they could always leave if they wanted! As Sabo did - by stealing the boat.

And yet he still longed for freedom, to be "anywhere but here". We can see it in his design - he lives among the 'scum' of the Gray Terminal, and yet he still dressed as a noble, he wears a waistcoat and a top hat which reminds us of the fashion of the high town and especially his father, and his cravat is tied tightly around his neck. His life really was suffocating for him. Even if he was physically away from his family he still could feel their influence, though he was outside the city wall, outside of their reach! And he ran away 5 years ago! He's spent so much time living there, that his noble upbringing has faded - he felt compassion towards the people of the gray terminal, which nobles don't even consider human; he even put someone else's happiness before his own - which is unheard of in the noble circles; he has defeated men twice his size, fearlessly charged into battle while nobles don't want to get their hands dirty. And yet he was powerless when met with violence from his father, showing that despite all this time, despite how much he's changed he still was in that invisible birdcage, unable to act under the influence of his father. (which is why he leaves again)

Even Ace and Luffy feel that:

And it's really sad that Ace says that Sabo was never able to grasp freedom, because even if briefly, he did. With you two :") But he could never feel freedom as long as he stayed in the country where people are treated no better than trash, and the shadow of his family and Goa's walls lingered above him.

And a couple of hundred chapters later we see the extent of his parents' grasp! Even with amnesia this deep-seated feeling of confinement never left him. (Though I do think that it's not just the abuse from his parents but also his disgust with nobles as a whole: the burning of the Gray Terminal and nobles' indifference to it clearly affected him a lot)

And what's worse, now he can't even identify what's wrong! I mean, it's clear that his parents were abusive, you don't need to be a Sherlock to figure that out, but the specific details are lost. Think about it! He ended up on a ship with people who at first didn't really want anything to do with him - not out of malice, they just have more important things at the moment; and then in an organisation(an army) where your value as a soldier is based on your performance(like rising through ranks and such). He doesn't know that his parents equated his worth with his usefulness, and the revs don't know that the boy being so eager to help isn't just a rightheous motivation. He needed to be sure that their efforts on getting him to health weren't in waste, to be useful, so that the only people he knows won't just leave him, plus pair it with his moral values, distaste of nobles, longing for freedom... – no wonder he is the second-in-command of the entire army by the age 22!

This guy's love language is acts of service, but no one (not even Sabo himself) realises that it stems from his screwed upbringing and fear of being cast away if he's not of use.

Ok, to be fair, it's mostly based on the flashbacks - I haven't finished my reread to look in depth at him as an adult yet! After all we've only seen point A(his childhood) and point B(adulthood) with the journey between them obscured. He does seem to be faring well tho! He takes his job seriously when needed, but also fucks around when he wants to - even if ppl around him show displeasure with that! Good for him.

Same with Koala actually! It's so nice to see her being able to express her feelings so visibly! Be it positive or negative. And I think it's cute, that while Sabo is both the common reason and victim of her outbursts of emotion, he never berates her for it! He's not thrilled, but he's not complaining either!

[symphonic-scream]

Okay hear me out

Persona 5 Stardew Valley au

So we've got the animal seller, Haru, who's parents divorced when she was young. She spent her teen years in the city with her father, but once an adult she decided to live with her mom, and has fallen in love with country life

Makoto has lived in town her whole life. Her older sister left to have a fancy city job, and thinks Makoto is wasting her talents and smarts by staying to keep up the family tradition. Makoto knows someone has to protect the town, and gladly draws her sword to do so. She trains by cutting down trees for the local artist and for town projects

Ryuji is a former golden child. He was going to be a star athlete, but an accident took it from him. He's not really doing anything at the moment, just working on loving life again. His Ma is the bus driver

Shiho moved to town after a similar incident to Ryuji, only she puts all she is into work, to have a place so when they're adults, her girlfriend can leave her family behind so they can be together. She only recently took over the carpentry business from her mentor, and her girlfriend Ann helped expand the business to include furniture and house decor, with design input

The pub in town in Leblanc. While the owner, Sojiro, specializes in coffee, he'll accept local foods to make dishes by request of the townspeople. His daughter Futaba is a recovering shut in, and his wife Wakaba runs the town clinic, with her med student Tae

Yusuke appeared one day, having sold all he had to find a font of inspiration. He fell for the valley, and at first lived in a tent near the mountain. Makoto, who nearly mistook him for a monster, invited him to stay on her family's property. He mostly paints, but does sculptures for order from the nearby city to pay his share of living costs

The town blacksmith is named Munehisa Iwai. He's the broody type, but cares for his son a whole lot. He's just, not good at showing it. He often requests things his kid would like

The town store used to belong to an older man, but he passed it on to a wayward boy and his younger brother, both whom he met by chance. The boys, then in foster care, lived with him until he became too old and ill go run the store. Akira and young Morgana still keep the Velvet Room running, even if old man Igor is living in Hospice

And, the mayor, Lavenza. She's very new to the position, which used to be Igor's. She's hoping to improve the town a lot, and is caring for her younger twin sisters

A strange man lives on the beach, with a strange talent for fishing. Goro doesn't talk about who he was before he moved there. It's behind him.

The library is run by Hifumi, who wants to reopen the museum portion after her parents sold the artifacts to keep it from closing. Hifumi thinks a museum would inspire tourists to donate,

And, finally, our farmer.

Sumire feels lost. Her sister died, her parents can't speak to her without crying, and she feels, trapped, so she impulsively quits her profession. She finds a letter from her grandfather, with the deed to a farm. Needing a reset, she leaves the city and life behind to live in a small town in the valley, where no one knows her, or her sister.

To clear things up, Makoto and Ryuji both grew up in town, have been friends the whole time. Futaba has been in town since she was 6, Hifumi was born there, and Akira and Morgana have been there since they were 14 and 6, now about 21 and 13. Shiho and Ann were in Ryuji's class at school, since they had to travel to a nearby city for school. Haru moved there when she was 18, Yusuke and Goro appeared around 19-20.

Anyways. Talk to me about this

(I'm open to any ships for it pretty much, but I will say I have Okujima in it.)

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.74 San Sequoia dreaming

Dub was such a blast to hang out with, and I really wished we could have spent more time together, swapping stories and figuring out our lives. But eventually, he had to leave and meet Maia to catch their train. It made me really happy when he said he wanted to stay in touch. I was planning to ask him, but he beat me to it, and I was stoked to finally have a new friend. When I got home, Sophia asked where I'd come from all suited up, and I told her about meeting Dub. Needless, she was thrilled to hear about my new friend. That night, as I lay beside her, the memories of the afternoon replayed in my mind, from the tour to our conversations. At that moment, I recognized what I need to do. Or rather, how I needed to do it. I hyped up San Sequoia so much, but I never actually showed it to her. How could I expect her to be on board with going to a place she had never seen? For all she knew, it could be just another sleepy little town, like Oasis Springs. We were partners, and I knew she would pack up and leave when I was ready, but I wanted her to be excited about it. I needed her enthusiasm because, without it, she could resent me later. So, the next morning, as she began to stir, I asked if she had any plans.

"I was gonna ask if you did," she said between a big yawn.

I smiled, happy to receive a green light, and moved some stray hairs away from her face.

"I do. I want to show you San Sequoia."

"Okay!"

She got up immediately and hopped into the shower. After we ate breakfast, we gathered the dogs and headed out to the Celebration Center. I was determined to be a better tour guide this time around.

"San Sequoia is a great place for families," I began. "And this neighborhood is the hub. It's called Gilbert Gardens, and I love it here."

She glanced around, taking it all in.

"It's pretty here."

"This place is like a community hangout spot. They've got something to build just about any skill you can name for all ages."

"Wow! That's so important. Is this an affluent area? You usually only see learning centers in nicer areas."

"From what I've learned, San Sequoia is a very diverse city, economically and socially. I personally have experienced the latter."

She nodded, satisfied with my answers, but the lake stole her attention.

"I just want to jump in there. I haven't been swimming in so long. My body is calling for it!"

"Swimming is allowed! And the weather is warm most of the year, so you could come here literally anytime you want."

I saw a sparkle in her eyes and knew that was the moment she saw herself in San Sequoia. My tour was successful, and she hadn't seen the best parts yet, so I kept going.

"That's the spa I told you about over there. They've got everything and-"

"Oh look at this," she shouted in the middle of my sentence. "This is the cutest, biggest splash park I've ever seen! We've gotta bring our kids here!"

That last part made me feel all warm inside, but I didn't want to give myself away yet, so I demoted my smile to a slight smirk.

"We will."

We walked around the lake, and I told her about the track. And of course I took her to the Arboretum and told her of the trail. I could tell she was eager for more, but we had another place to go. Next, we headed to what I hoped would become our new neighborhood. We strolled leisurely through the streets, hand in hand, looking at houses, making sure our dogs didn't wander too far. The back of the neighborhood, where the Michaels' lived, ended at the water. The closer we got, the faint smell of salt in the air got stronger. Like many cities, San Sequoia had its signature architecture, and many of the houses looked the same. But each one had its own unique characteristic, whether it was a garden or a cozy porch or even tacky stuff in the yard. All the homes comprised the tight-knit community I longed to be part of again.

"This is Hopewell Hills, my old neighborhood."

"That's a nice name. I see why you love it here so much. It's so quiet!"

I grinned in pride for San Sequoia never disappointed. As we rounded the corner, the salty tang of the ocean permeated the air, and my heart began to race because it was almost showtime. I wasn't nervous at all, but my excitement ate me up inside. With our destination just steps away, I created a diversion to set up my production. I slowed my pace and walked toward the marina, which had the most magnificent, unobstructed view of the bridge.

"This is my favorite spot in the neighborhood," I said.

The bridge stood there, tall and majestic, proclaiming to all who gazed upon it, "THIS is San Sequoia!"

"Woooow! It looks so close, like you could swim to it," she said.

"You can't get any closer without being in Anchorpoint Wharf."

I casually turned around to face the house we'd been standing in front of.

"I love this house, too. I ran by here every day, imagining what it would be like to live there and watch the sky change colors at sunset on the porch."

"That sounds amazing. And this house is beautiful, Luca. Is it empty?"

"Sure is."

She left me to walk around and peek in the windows. I watched her for a little while, hoping she saw something she liked.

"I want to buy this house," I confessed finally.

She ceased her exploration and came back to me with a look of concern.

"It's so big! Can we afford it?"

I guess after living in a tiny house for as long as she did, most houses seemed large to her. To me, it was the perfect size, with no wasted rooms or cramped spaces.

"Probably not," I replied. "But we can figure it out....make a plan."

Worry still radiated off her face, but that's just how she rolled.

"But...can your SimTube money really handle this?"

I grabbed her hands.

"It might take some time, but I think we can do it. Whatever it takes, I'll figure it out. One day, it'll be me and you sitting on the porch watching the sunset. I'll build get my dad to build that treehouse for our kids. Rosie will run around this neighborhood and Kooper will chill on the porch watching her."

She laughed, but her eyes began to water.

"Ha ha! I think that's what they're doing now. Gosh, Luca! You're an excellent salesman! I want all of that right now!"

"I do too. That's really why I brought you here today. I love you, Sophia. I've loved you for a really long time, whether or not I knew it. You're the only woman who could get me to this point. And you're the only woman I'd want any of that with. We've been tiptoeing around marriage and starting a family. It's something you've been wanting and waiting for. And I just want you to know...I want it too. All of it. And I'm ready and want to give it to you. Sophia, will you marry me?"

"OH MY WATCHER! OH MY WATCHER!!!"

I wished I could snapshot that moment. She was so adorably shocked. It amazed me that she didn't catch on, but I was delighted to see her sincerely surprised.

"YES!!!! Of course I will!! Oh, Lucaaaa!!"

The ring dazzled her immediately after she took it and put it on. I was so happy she liked it because I knew nothing about jewelry and didn't ask for help. But as soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew it was the perfect one.

"Awwwww it's a heart-shaped diamond! It's so beautiful!"

"We're getting married, Luca!!"

"I can't wait."

[lyssa-rina]

Project Xerox.

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Synopsis: Hydra has managed to clone the winter soldier, you, a handler, managed to escape with your ward after their downfall. Now after the scattering and reassembling of the avengers; trying to put themselves back together they uncover a lost secret.

A/N: sneak peak!

The last time you heard of the Avengers they were fighting in an airport in germany. You were fueling up at a gas station, news broadcasting on the convenience store tv, airport security footage. It had been two years since hydra's downfall and you were still moving, trying to keep them off your trail by never staying in one place too long. They might have fallen but a hydra always rises from the ashes they said. A few patrons stopped to watch both in shock and feigned disinterest. Blows traded by both sides, back and forth, explosions and giant man. The news anchor spoke over looped clips of fighting. Natsha was there, you hadn't spoken to her since she escaped the red room. Her and the captain are the reason you were able to escape hydra all those years ago.

He was there too, the soldier, the asset, the blueprint. His face became a constant in your life after you were traded to hydra. Blue eyes that followed your every move, now watching you with curiosity.

"What's wrong?" You sat on the boardwalk, side by side with your ward, fishing poles waiting for the dark water to cough up a few more fish. A cold wind rustled the trees as a chill ran up your spine, that was all that you could hear besides the lapping of lake water.

"I think it's time for us to head back to the house." You received an annoyed whine in return.

"But- I haven't caught anything yet!"

"I know, but we've been out here all evening, I want you to get some studying in before dinner time" those eyes, staring back at you in disbelief.

"What?! Why?" Despite his protest, he knows to follow orders. That training has been ingrained into his mind since birth.

Reeling in his line with a pout. "Why do I have to study if I already know everything?"

You hum in answer as you smile at the kid. He looks so adorable with his oversized jacket and unruly hair.

"Do you think fish have dreams isaac?"

Those eyes again, swirling with so much curiosity, intrigue and as much scepticism as any eight year old could muster. How was he supposed to know that?

"See? You don't know everything." The walk back to the house was spent with Isaac trying to prove that he did in fact know everything. He did; growing up under hydra's thumb ment he had to know everything, be anything. To survive you had to be the best of the best and he was. As you hiked back home you couldn't shake that feeling you had by the lake.

Even after you prepared dinner, that feeling of unease was there.

"Issac?" He was at the coffee table. Rereading an advanced algebra book for the fifth time.

“Yes?”

“Go tell your brother dinner’s ready.”

[novel-nook-blog]

"Listen" to me yap about school and losing friends throughout my life...

The semester ends in three weeks... How? I swear I just finished high school like yesterday! And now I'm almost a year away from having a "Bc." in front of my name.

At the same time, I'm looking forward to this summer. I seriously need a break from all this. I haven't got almost any time to do what I truly enjoy, and tbh, it's getting worse as the end's coming closer. There are so many papers due, and my motivation is kind of lacking. I'm so exhausted—physically and mentally.

But I don't want this period of my life to end so soon! I think the second year at uni was the greatest. When school started I already had friends, I had my people there, all the connections, I knew the professors, I knew my way around, where to find a good meal, where is the best tea shop, where I can find a snack, what to get, how to find the train station without using the bus, I know how to take the bus better than anyone – I know the paths, I know the numbers, I know the places, the restaurants, the coffee shops, everything.

I truly love it there. But the thought that the next year will be the last one with those people, seeing them every day, gossiping during lunch. I don't want it to end.

I always believed that if I truly wanted to, I could stay friends with them and see them as often as I want to. But after middle school ended, after high school ended... I don't have my hopes so high up, tbh. I still talk to my middle school friends; they are the best people in the entire world (shout out to my bestie @themoondkid love you to bits!), but we see each other sadly only like 2 to 3 times a year, and it's hard to find time or plan anything. Two of my friends have a job, one has a boyfriend, and she lives with him, and the third friend is also studying at university, but we study at opposite ends of the country.

My high school friends are a different story. We don't really talk anymore. If you had told me that five years ago, I would have laughed straight to your face. We were so close, had a billion trips, sleepovers, parties, everything. I loved them. And they cut me out, and now we are practically strangers with a bittersweet past.

I truly believe that the biggest reason why my middle school friends are still friends is that we spent most of our lives together. They are practically family. Like they know me probably better than I know myself. 15 years. That bond isn't easily broken. But I guess those 4 years of high school weren't enough, or maybe we just changed, and no one realised until we said our goodbyes. I think it will be similar to my uni friends. I love them, I really do, but I don't think we will see each other more than 1 to 2 times a year, if we are still in contact.

I'd like to say I don't mind losing the people I care about so much. But it would be a lie. I despise it. It's the worst feeling. I still cry when I think about all the things we've been through, and now they won't even say "hello" to me.

Enjoy the school years, enjoy the time you get to spend with your friends. You never know when you'll lose them.

(I'm an optimist usually, but after being optimistic all the time during all those years, I've become a realist... I'm not saying I will definitely lose them, but it's not a one-sided job to take care of our friendship. I can try as hard as I want, text them, call them, plan trips... but if they don't want to stay, they will leave. And trust me, you should not force them to stay. I learned that the hard way.)

[linkspooky]

CHOUJIN X, CHAPTER 41 HYENA

Hello, it's time to cover the climactic battle and rescue of Palma a recently introduced character who will probably turn out to be a major player considering the sheer amount of time that has been spent on this battle. This is also the first time we've seen the trio truly work together in a fight since they got separated before the time skip so there's a lot of interesting character and thematic moments to dig in here.

I think if there's any central statement that Ishida is trying to get across in this long drawn out fight scene it's that old cliche.

GOOD INTENTIONS LEAD TO HELL.

Tokio's mentor Sato reminds him of this. While he is trying to make Tokio into the successor of Sandek because of this heroic and selfless attitude he has, he's also the ahrshest critic of that same attitude. That no matter how hard he fights, or how beautiful the path he walks, or what his ideals are intentions are not outcomes.

The power of choices is a common theme in Ishida's works, often used with a railroad motif at the same time. We are capable of making choices, we are capable at switching tracks at critical junctions too, but oftentimes there are unforeseen consequences for our choices and because of that no matter how much you overthink a choice it at times feels like you've been railroaded into an unexpected result. There is always a choice and always a consequence, and sometimes these things aren't fair or just or logical.

Azuma makes a pretty clear reference to the train tracks monologue in Tokyo Ghoul when he's going to fight the scissor choujin to try and rescue Tokio. In both cases protagonists make a wrong choice that they are then locked into for different reasons. Kaneki correctly understands that Furuta might raid his home base, but instead of splitting his forces appropriately goes alone.

Azuma similiarly is told he can't handle fighting against a Choujin and to stay out of it, and goes anyway. In Azuma's case he's told straight up to his face that his intentions aren't as noble as he makes them out to be. Did he want to save Tokio because he wants to be the kind of person who save others, or did he just want to test himself because he thought being put in life threatening danger would activate his choujin powers?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions can mean two things, number one good intentions don't always lead to good results or number two people's good intentions aren't always as good as they make themselves out to be.

Tokio post timeskip is so far shown to be true to his good nature. However, he is an Ishida protagonist and Ishida doesn't really write straightforward heroes. There is a similarity between the two scenes as I mention, Azuma and Tokio both willingly choose to charge into fights that are far out of their depths and they're warned beforehand that while sitting and doing nothing might seem crueler it also might be the smarter choice and they might make things worse by intervening. Tokio is told that he was the one who asked to take the lead on this Opium operation and now he might throw it all away to save a random stranger by charging in with no backup.

When Tokio is fighting he's able to hear Palma's cries for help in her chaosified state because of their shared connection to Zora's blood and we see he is forcibly flashing back to critical moments of his life. The scene on his beach where he made the decision to leave his life and friends behind for one year and devote himself entirely to training. The memorial for the dead he left behind in his final battle where he beat the tyrannical choujin yes, but lost most of his allies.

The text are Palma's thoughts, but they are probably things Tokio highly identifies with because they're things he's said in his personal narrative before (I want to be stronger, I want to smarter, why am I weak? i can't anymore? Why? I can't give up) something that has even appeared to us in his internal dialogue right before the timeskip.

Palma is lamenting her fate, how weak, useless and helpless she feels and how it feels like nothing she did amounted to anything and begging for help while at the same time succumbing to her berserk state. Part of me wonders if Tokio is overinvested in saving Palma not because of some higher mind heroic goal, but because number one a year later he's still stuck with the feelings of uselessness he had on the beach from watching everyone fight and die for his sake. He's stuck with the idea that if he does not do everything on his own from now on that he'll revert to his old useless self.

Is Tokio trying so hard and so recklessly to save Palma because it's the right thing to do? Is he doing it because their psychic link makes him project his own feelings of uselessness and helplessness onto her? Is it survivor's guilt from all the people he couldn't save in Iwato?

Is it because Tokio like Kaneki hates being made to feel weak or useless so at moments like this he will act on his own and act recklessly so he can pretend he's in control. I think these chapters in general are setting up more for Tokio's character, at least to add a level of complexity because really importantly if Azuma had not shown up when he did Tokio would have completely lost.

It's also narratively interesting to me how this scene compares to when Azuma charged in blindly to save Tokio from the scissor choujin when he was warned against it. In that case Azuma's good intention truly did lead to hell because he got the worst result possible. Not only was he brutally cut in half and didn't succeed in helping Tokio at all, but he also turned into a Choujin and immediately brutally attacked the person he was trying to save. Azuma wanted Choujin powers too but when he awakens he's immediately told he's dangerous and needs to control himself.

Things just don't work out for Azuma narratively. That's always been the case since the beginning. The things Azuma wants get just kind of dropped into Tokio's lap. Tokio has more potential as a Choujin. Tokio awakens first. Tokio has spent years slacking off unlike Azuma who was a martial arts prodigy and overachiever, and in just one year of hard work Tokio has far surpassed Azuma. Tokio is Sato's star pupil, while Sato remarks to Azuma's face that Yamato Mori's quality of peace keepers is on the decline. Tokio is put in charge of a large operation when he speaks up against his superiors, whereas Azuma's attitude is keep your head down and listen to your superiors and he remains in relatively the same place.

Tokio is the protagonist so the story moves forward with him and it's about his growth, whereas Azuma is continually frustrated by both his lack of mobility and lack of growth. SO in this scenario where Tokio and Azuma basically do the same thing, run in to fight without backup Azuma's ends with this horrific scene of him turning against his best friend and even losing his status as "Tokio's hero" while Tokio gets to fly off into the sunset with Palma.

I'm not saying Azuma deserves better anything, I'm just observing that things work out for Tokio and they don't really work out for Azuma. Tokio keeps movig forward while Azuma stays in place and is oftentimes left behind. That's what Azuma long suspected and feared that if Tokio put the effort in that not only would he be on Azuma's level, but he'd be much higher than him.

It's why Azuma freaks out on Ely for not taking his side in the conflict between him and Tokio. In Azuma's mind at least everything he wants, Tokio just already has. Ely doesn't mind that Tokio ditched her for a year because she's more relaxed about those kinds of things. Not only is Azuma more sensitive he's also known Tokio for all of his life as opposed to Ely who only met him recently. From Azuma's point of view though the connection he's built up with Ely for the past year as her partner means almost nothing because he thinks she's naturally siding with Tokio, because Azuma fears Tokio's just naturally better. That there's something internally missing in Azuma that Tokio has and that fear makes him play stupid high school games with Ely. "Well, why are you on his side? You're supposed to be on my side" he yells in the middle of an important mission even though hes supposed to be the most mature and goal oriented member of the main cast.

Of course, there's the fact that Tokio didn't save the day in this situation because of anything he did specifically, besides making the decision to save Palma and not give up on that even when things were looking bad. No the day was saved because Azuma and Ely showed up and they were only there because Azuma considered Palma suspicious and was following up on a lead he established beforehand. It's Azuma's detectivework that brought them there, and luck to salvage things after they went south and Tokio wasn't strong enough to handle it, not anything Tokio did specifically.

It's still a pattern though Tokio tends to get good outcomes, and Azuma tends to make choices that lead to bad ones. I'm curious as to why this is though I don't think it's going to settle on a simple answer like Tokio good, Azuma bad.

Sato's heavy emphasis on "good intentions lead to hell" makes me think that the happy ending to this chapter mini-arc might get the rug pulled out of it at a later event. Palma turns into a hyena, and Azuma had a lot of connections to hyena symbolism early on in the manga.

Something tells me we might get a scene like this with Azuma and Palma at a later point, that the happy ending with Palma now might somehow lead to a tangled tragedy in the future. It might even be a romantic thing, because Azuma's jealousy over his perception that Ely is taking Tokio's sides has shades of romantic jealousy and possessiveness to it too. I'll talk about this theory more when I'm analyzing all the reveals in the next chapter though.

[zegrvshvghes]

Coach-MK23

I am genuinely in love with this man and i always will be. Also there’s not a large age gap between these two it’s like 2-3 years but it seems like a lot.

As a female hockey coach, I knew firsthand the challenges that came with the job. But when Matthew Knies showed up on the ice, I never expected the challenges to come from within.

At first, I saw him as just another player. But as he began to excel on the ice, I couldn't help but take notice of his talent and determination. There was something about him that caught my attention and made me want to learn more about him.

As the weeks went on, I found myself looking forward to our training sessions more and more. We talked about hockey, life, and everything in between. I began to see him as more than just a player, but as a person with his own challenges and goals.

It wasn't until one particularly grueling practice that I saw a vulnerability in him that I never expected. I could see the frustration and exhaustion in his eyes, and I knew that he needed support. Without thinking, I put my hand on his shoulder and told him that he was doing a great job.

And that was it. In that moment, everything changed. I could feel my heart race as I looked into his eyes. I saw something there that I had never seen before. And as the ice melted around us, I knew that I was falling in love with Matthew.

I tried to push the feelings aside, to keep things professional between us. But it became increasingly difficult as the season went on. We spent more and more time together, and I found myself cringing at the thought of leaving the rink without seeing him.

Then one night, after a game, he asked me out. It was as if he read my mind. We walked to a nearby corner store, and picked up a couple of snacks and drinks, I found myself telling him everything as we sat in his car. I told him about my fears and dreams, my successes and failures. And he listened, really listened, as if he cared about every word that came out of my mouth.

And as the night came to an end, we sat in silence for a quick moment and he leaned over the center console to kiss me. In that moment, I forgot about everything else. The world melted away, and all I could think about was him.

Over the next few weeks, we fell deeper and deeper in love. We spent hours talking on the phone, going on dates, and of course, practicing hockey. It was as if we were the only two people in the world, caught up in our own little world of love and hockey.

But as the season came to an end, we knew that we would have to part ways. He would be off to the NHL, and I would be coaching the next team. It was heartbreaking, but we promised each other that we would do everything in our power to stay in touch.

And that's just what we did. We talked online, sent each other care packages, and cheered each other on from a distance.

Years have passed since those days on the ice, but I still think about Matthew Knies often. We've both moved on to new chapters in our lives, but I know that the love we had will always be a part of who we are. And in my heart, I know that he will always be my favorite player, and my first love.

Although we were miles apart, we still managed to see each other. Matthew would come home from college during the holidays and we would catch up over dinner. Sometimes we would go to the rink and the memories would flood back in, reminding us of where we started.

It wasn't until a few years ago that I got the chance to see him play again. He had made it to the NHL and was playing for the leafs in Toronto. I went to see him play a few games and it was amazing to see him out on the ice, doing what he loved.

After the game, he invited me to the locker room to meet some of his teammates. They were all surprised to see me, the coach that Matthew had spoken so much about. I could feel the pride and admiration radiating from him as he introduced me to everyone.

That night, as we walked around the city as we had done the first time we’d been alone, I couldn't help but feel a sense of completeness. Even though we had been apart for so long, there was still a connection between us. We talked about everything that had happened over the years, catching up on all the details.

As the night came to an end, I realized that Matthew had never really left my heart. He was always there, from the beginning and even now, years later. And even though we lived in different states, we still managed to keep our connection strong.

Today, Matthew has retired from professional hockey and has settled down with his family. We still talk online and send each other Christmas cards. But even though we have moved on with our lives, I know that there will always be a part of me that will remember the amazing journey we had together.

Matthew Knies will always be the young player that stole my heart on the ice, the one that taught me that love can come from anywhere and that anything is possible.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Words Finally Said

This is part of Stone and Mohandas' journey, though this work won't have Mohandas in it much. This is more so for Stone, because he desperately need it.

The context can be read here and here.

Word Count: 1,009

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Mohandas asked as he parked the rental car they had gotten. He looked out at the cemetery, shaking his head. "We don't have to do this now."

Vikram was disgruntled at the attempt of coddling him that Mohandas was doing. He glared at his younger brother, silencing him. "It's been two weeks since we've landed and if I don't do this now, I might never do it. It's been a long time coming anyways. Stay here."

With those words, he stepped out of the car and closed the door. He stayed next to the car, staring at Mohandas who was obediently staying in his seat and waiting for Mohandas to lock said car.

Once Mohandas locked the car, Vikram stepped on the grass and walked through the gates of the cemetery. He didn't exactly know where the grave was, but he knew the general vicinity where it was, thanks to Mohandas' memories.

One would think Mohandas would've remembered where their father's grave was, since he loved him so much, but alas.

It took a little bit of searching, but Vikram soon stood in front of Bharat Mishra's grave. His brown eyes took in the words engraved on the headstone.

Loving Husband and Father.

Vikram stared blankly at the words, trying to envision the man Mohandas had grown up with.

Every image of their father smiling seemed demented in his mind and he just couldn't picture him laughing. Not even knowing that they were carbon copies of each other and thus he knew his father had looked like how he does when smiling at his family helped in coming up with the image.

All he remembered was the bitter, paranoid man who loved to make his life a living hell.

He was silent for a while before he scoffed, looking down at the ground. "I don't even know why I'm here. You were nothing but a terrible father to me," he murmured to no one but his father's grave.

Vikram hated the tears that welled up in his eyes at the memories flooding his mind and he looked back up at the headstone. His vision was blurry and yet he kept seeing the words engraved there.

"But you were you still my father. You were all I had growing up. And you didn't even love me. Despite how hard I tried to make you proud."

Vikram wiped away his tears, but new ones kept falling.

He could still remember the sixteenth birthday when he got placed on that train and abandoned so clearly, remembering how he waited and waited for his father to come back until the train started leaving. He could remember the moment the abandonment had sunk in completely, somewhere around Virginia.

"You abandoned me for a new family, like I wasn't your child. Like you hadn't spent sixteen years raising me. You son of a bitch. You were supposed to love me, protect me! And yet here I am, scarred emotionally and physically from you."

Vikram dropped to his knees, the sadness making it so incredibly hard for him to keep standing. His soft crying turned into loud sobs as his nails dug into the soft ground beneath him, clawing like he was trying to dig up his father's casket in an effort to see him one last time.

"I hate you, but I love you at the same," he said in between sobs. His entire body was shaking from the tears, but he couldn't stop. "Even after all these years, I wish you still loved me. I wish you had chosen me, along with your new family. I wish you hadn't left me. I would've taken you back as my father, if only you had wanted me."

The tears were nonstop and he kept clawing at the ground. He couldn't recognize himself as he begged for his father to come back, begged for another chance at the life he missed out on with his father. He wanted what he was never going to get.

It took a few minutes of crying before he got exhausted and he had no more tears to give. He stopped clawing at the ground, reluctantly pulling his hands away and resting them on his thighs.

He realized that he was just exhausted in general. He was tired of letting his life be dictated by a man who never—and would never—love him. He had people back home who loved him—fuck, he had someone here who loved him. And they were all suffering because of what Bharat did to him.

He wiped his tear-stained cheeks, uncaring about how the dirt smeared against his skin from his dirtied hands. He got up and decided to stop trying to get a man who was dead to love him, because it was useless.

"I have a brother waiting for me," he reminded himself.

He took a few deep breaths to keep himself calm, directing his next words to the grave. "A brother who is respecting me enough to call me by my callsign. A brother who doesn't stand over me in the middle of the night with a gun and who doesn't scar me in ways that replicate how he is scarred. He cherishes the opportunity to be around me."

Mohandas' behavior towards him went against everything he was taught during childhood, but Mohandas wasn't the first one who showed him all that a family could be. He was just the latest in the long line of family members who earned Vikram's trust and cherished it.

"You're wrong, Baba, you can trust family."

He turned on his heel and walked away, not looking back at the grave. He walked out of the cemetery gates and went to the car, going to the passenger side.

"You have dirt underneath your fingernails," Mohandas said after he unlocked the door and Vikram got into the car. He looked worried as he scanned Vikram for any injuries. "Are you okay, Stone?"

Vikram nodded before locking eyes with his brother.

"Vikram. Call me Vikram."

MDNI & Reblog banners made by @/cafekitsune

I'm trying so hard not to speed-run through Stone's healing journey, but this man just wants to get better so fast. He's not healed fully, of course, he still has a lot to work on, but he's finally let go of his father and the fantasies of his father loving him bacl.

Requests are open!

[marshmallowloves]

*SLAMS IN HERE* CICI PLS 🏝️ and 🍨 AND MAYBE 🏖️ FOR YOU AND BOTW LINK! Pls I would LOVE to see how you and Link enjoy Hyrule together in the summertime!!!

~ @princess-hope-selfships 💖

OKAY hi Hope yes hello my lovely friend. I know you said BOTW Link but. I think the only time we'd get to enjoy a fun summertime would be in the couple years gap between BOTW and TOTK asfhshf (<-- not me adoring both versions of him and compromising accordingly KGHDJF) so that's the window of time I'm gonna go with here.

Also, it's canon that Zelda lives in Link's Hateno house during that time, but I don't think it was ever stated whether or not he also lived there…?? Even though he bought the dang thing??? It's a little confusing djfh but for the sake of this post, I'm making it so that just Link and Koci live together in his Hateno house after BOTW (like I always pictured they would). OKAY MOVING ON fjfhdjg

also sorry this was late, I had to do a lot of stuff after you sent this, and then think of these responses and it kind of took a long time kdjfg sorry they are very long I am also very sleepy so I hope it's written okay

🏝️ - do you like to go on vacations or would you rather stay at home?

So… we've never really taken a… "vacation," I think. If you mean like, for the whole summer…? It would be neat, and I'd love to bring Link to stay for a while in the Korok Forest sometime - it's really pretty in the summer! But he and Princess Zelda sometimes spend a lot of time helping rebuild lately, so I dunno if we'd really be able to go anywhere and just relax for the whole season… I know it's important work, and I think they probably shouldn't be too far from where they're needed.

But if you're just talking for maybe a few days or a week at a time or something, then… Hm… I'd really like to go to Lurelin Village again sometime. Last time we went, we didn't really get to enjoy it since…well, we had a lot to do, still…

I think it's still nice even when we stay at home, though. If it's too hot outside, Link and I hang out in the house and open up the windows. It's really nice getting to sit inside the shade but still feel the warm wind coming through the house. Sometimes it reminds me a little of my room at home in the forest…

But hey, you know what, it's cause we stay at home on those days that we figured out something really cool!! Link still has some stuff from when we were traveling that can make ice. And if you take that ice, and you smash it up really good, and then you squeeze fruit juice into it… it's SUPER tasty, especially when it's hot out~

…but, um, don't tell anyone else about that please. I dunno how much ice Link has in store and we REALLY like eating this stuff… I'm only telling you 'cause you're my friend!

🍨 - what kind of summer dates do you guys go on? do you have a favorite?

I think…maybe "date" means something else to most people. Like the kind you see in books and stuff, right…?

Even though Link and I decided we wanted to be… um…together a while ago… we never really had a lot of personal time to spend together like that before, 'cause we both had our jobs to do and there just…wasn't really time for that.

But the worst of that is over now, and we can spend a lot more time doing what we want. On nice warm days when we're not busy, we take walks across the village, or go pick out a spot in the woods nearby to sit and have a meal, and sometimes when it's a little hotter we cool off in the nearby pond for a little bit. I…guess that's what you'd call a date, but I never really saw it like that, I think. It's just…we get to spend time together now.

There was one time we went back to Hyrule Castle to help with relief and spent a few nights camping nearby. Link and I walked through one of the gardens, or…what was left of it, really. It was…kinda nostalgic actually… I saw him there once, a little after we first met and I was allowed to stay in the castle. He was training all that morning and I guess he went there to rest. I was still pretty nervous to talk to him, 'cause I knew how important his role was when he took the Master Sword… He didn't say much when he saw me, but he let me sit next to him and we just sort of…stayed there for a bit, enjoying the sun and the air…

… Oh... I got a little distracted. Sorry… Um… anyway, one of my little siblings happened to be nearby while Link and I were looking through the rubble, and showed us some of the soil that was still good. They gave us some seeds and helped us plant them there. It was a small thing, but it still felt…special, helping to make something new after everything that had happened. And…not just the plants. I don't think he remembers that day in the garden, since it was before his restorative sleep… so we were making a new memory, too.

I think maybe that one was my favorite.

🏖️ - what's your favorite beach activity?

For the longest time I didn't know if Link even liked beaches much. There were some nights, back when the Champions were still here, where we would stop to rest for the night and it just happened to be near a beach. And even when I would run in the sand to tire myself out or show him cool stuff me and Rina found, or even when Daruk or Mipha would walk down the shore with us sometimes, Link would usually just stay near the fire and never did anything with us.

I figured maybe it was just 'cause he had his job to do as the Princess's knight, so there wasn't really room for him to enjoy the beach like anyone else would. But even after I started seeing more of his personality outside of his duty, he still didn't do much but sit and stare out at the ocean…so I thought maybe he just didn't like beaches.

But ever since we settled down after Ganon was defeated, Link's had a lot more time to really enjoy himself and not worry as much. And I'm learning that he actually likes all sorts of stuff about the beach! (Sorry, I know that took a long time to give you an answer!!) Whenever we visit one of the beaches near here, I usually see him trying to catch crabs and fish, climbing the palm trees for the fruit, and just hanging out in the water…and he always looks like he's having a great time while he does it, which I'm really happy about!

I usually like to stay and play in the sand, 'cause I'm…actually not really a fan of swimming at the beach. I dunno what it is, maybe it's 'cause the ocean is so big, and it's kind of intimidating… or cause sometimes I feel a fish on my leg and it freaks me out. Link's had to convince me a few times to at least come in the shallow waters, especially on the hot days… and I guess it's not so bad when he's right there. But I'd definitely still rather lay in the warm sun and look for neat shells and rocks~

(…it's also nice to see him right after he gets out of the water and the sun is on his skin… wait what. I didn't say that)