the problem with writing a fantasy loosely based on a historical culture is you need to decide how "loose" you're willing to go. like yeah i know they didn't have silk but fuck you there's a literal god sitting right the fuck there and of course he would want that shit. but also would the protagonist know what the fuck a book is?

neutral, chap. 4 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary after waking from a taunting nightmare, tommy expels some late night energy on some wandering mobs. you give him another lesson about taking care of himself, even when working hard, and tommy asks if you’ll teach him archery, which, of course, doesn’t go without entertainment.

warnings nightmares, mob killing

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gif cred belongs to @halcyoncraft

he was running again. he didn’t know where or from what, but his legs carried him far and strongly, weaving him through trees and grass and other obstacles along the way. he didn’t know how in danger he was, but he wasn’t going to stop and find out.

then he tripped.

when he flipped onto his back, it was that goddamn mask staring down at him, the lips just under it laughing, “you’re so weak, tommy! did you do anything while you were in neutral?” then his axe came down and tommy braced himself for the pain and release of death.

he woke up instead.

sweating under his covers, tommy sucked in a harsh breath as he sat up. he threw the soft cotton off of him, running a warm hand down his face. it was just a dream; he was safe in neutral.

looking out of the window next to him, he saw the moon still high in the sky, casting a cool light into his bedroom. dream’s words rang through his head like a bell, and he rubbed at his temples with a sigh. was he actually getting weak? was relaxing such a bad thing? at the very least, some part of him must have thought so to conjure a nightmare like that..

with another sigh, tommy lifted himself out of bed and flipped open the ender chest. he drew out his sword before heading to the main floor of the house.

when he reached the bottom of the stairs, a voice called out to him, “tommy?” his heart nearly stopped for a moment, before peeking into the kitchen and realizing it was just y/n. she sat in candlelight, writing in a small journal with a slice of half-eaten pumpkin pie next to her. “are you alright?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his voice still heavy with sleep. “just gonna go kill some mobs.”

she nodded. she looked tired, and a part of tommy felt bad knowing that she was most definitely going to wait for him to return. “okay. have at it, kid.”

he nodded, turning to leave the kitchen. before he did so, he pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder to y/n. “you should go to bed.”

she gave him a smile, scribbling something down in the small journal. “i will, tommy. just gotta finish this up..” his natural curiosity was drawn to the small book, and he almost asked y/n what she was writing. but then dream’s voice rang through his mind again, and tommy silently headed for the doors of the house.

the night air was refreshing on his warm skin, cool and still as the moon illuminated the frontal beauty of neutral territory. he took a deep, calming breath of that crisp air before focusing on the task at hand: proving to himself that dream was wrong. that dream is always wrong.

after about twenty zombies, ten spiders, countless creepers, and a few endermen, tommy finally felt the burn in his arms become nearly too much to bear. he panted as he struck down one last spider, turning and finally deciding to return back to the comfort of y/n’s home.

he sheathed his sword when he finally entered the house, going straight to the kitchen to see that y/n was still awake and writing in her small journal.

“ready to go to bed?” he asked gruffly.

she looked up slowly before nodding, placing her quill down and capping her ink. “any trouble out there?”

“no,” he spoke, shaking his head. “wrote everything you needed to?” y/n blew out her candle and went to join the boy in the doorway to the kitchen.

“as much as i could, anyway,” she shrugged, smiling lazily as they began to walk toward the stairs. “what was your nightmare about?”

tommy was slightly startled, but a little too tired to react drastically to y/n’s deduction. “how’d you know i had a nightmare?”

“i’ve had them before,” she said simply. “and it seemed natural that you’d expel some energy onto mobs after such a thing.”

“you’re smart,” tommy credited.

“thank you,” y/n yawned.

they continued to climb the stairs in silence as tommy considered his words. “i was being hunted by dream again, but this time you weren’t there to save me. he called me weak and killed me.”

“so you wanted to prove to yourself that despite allowing yourself peace, you didn’t have to sacrifice your strength to get there,” y/n summed.

the boy half-smiled. she was spot on, as always. “exactly,” tommy breathed. 

y/n was silent for a moment as she thought. they stopped at the hallway to tommy’s room and it then occurred to tommy’s tired mind that her room was downstairs; she was walking with him because she cared about him. 

“honestly, tommy, if this is a real concern for you, then there is no harm in taking time out of your day to work out and train,” y/n spoke. “but the most important thing is to recognize when enough is enough, and when enough becomes too much. you’ve allowed yourself peace and care for the last two weeks, and achieving such a state doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice fighting or training; it just means that you need to be more aware and in tune with yourself as you’re doing it.” tommy nodded.

“don’t overwork yourself, is the summary here,” she said, picking a cobweb off of his shirt. “let yourself do the things you want, but make sure it’s not wearing you down. that’s taking care of yourself.”

“alright,” tommy spoke quietly. “thank you, y/n.”

“of course, kid,” she smiled. “get some sleep, alright? if you have another nightmare you’re free to bother me.” tommy nodded again. “good night, tommy.”

“good night, y/n,” he yawned as she turned to head down to her room. he made sure he heard her door shut before finally heading to his own room.

...

“can you teach me archery?” tommy questioned the next morning at breakfast. it was a question that had bugged him since y/n had first revealed her skills just a few days prior, and since he was going to start training, he figured that might be a good place to start.

“sure,” she chuckled as she scooped some more fruit onto his nearly half-eaten plate of french toast.

“why the laugh?” he questioned through a mouthful of berries.

she shrugged to herself. “your curiosity is showing.”

“i’ve been wondering about it since you took out the mob,” tommy admitted. “if i want to get stronger.. i think this is a good way to.”

“perfecting a skill is the perfect way to get stronger,” y/n voiced. “of course i’ll teach you, kid.” she smiled and he turned back to his breakfast with his own grin. “finish up your food and meet me in the basement; we gotta get you a bow first.”

tommy hadn’t been in the basement of the house yet. he opened the heavy, dusty trapdoor and assumed y/n didn’t go down their often either. he slid down the ladder easily and was immediately hit with heat.

y/n had a welding station upstairs in her shop area, but the basement had a more broad and intense version of that area. several anvils, all cracked and rusted and adorned with different materials were scattered in a sort of pattern amongst the space, a fire burning high in a fireplace at the far side of the room. seeing no sign of y/n, tommy moved to the room to his left.

the next room held a large nether portal, as well as a small farm for netherwart. the dark room felt empty to him, and he had to remind himself that he was in fact in y/n’s house still. he remembered she had said that she didn’t like going to the nether.

“i’m in here, tommy!” she called out. he took another left into a small storage room, where y/n was rustling through a chest. “how tall are you, kid?”

“6’1”,” he answered.

y/n smiled. “you’re a lot taller than i’ll ever be.” she took out a pretty oak bow, slightly scratched and obviously old. “you’ll have to use this for now, until i can make you one that’s your size.” he took the bow from her hands, shrugging.

“it’s fine.”

“good,” she hummed, still shuffling through the chest as tommy took the time to look around the small room.

“what’re the dispensers for?” tommy asked, staring at the wall that held the three stone tools.

“im nothing if not prepared, tommy,” y/n spoke as she took out a quiver and began to fill it with arrows for him. “in case of emergency, those dispensers will set off flares to let others know that im in trouble or that neutral is in danger.”

tommy nodded, still looking at the obviously unused dispensers. “smart.”

“i hope so,” she sighed, handing him the quiver of arrows. he strapped it around himself as she continued, “let’s just hope i never have to use them, yeah?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. she gave him a smile, hoisting her bow higher in her grip.

“you ready to shoot some things?”

...

“relax your shoulders,” y/n reminded. tommy did so, his fingers still white with effort against the taut string of the bow. “don’t pull so hard, tommy. you’re shaking.” he sighed as he let the string and arrow go limp, lowering his bow as y/n approached him closer.

it was his second day of archery training, and he was still missing nearly every target. y/n was a calm and collected teacher, offering him advice that was pointed directly for him and reassured him that there was no rush in the learning process. but after missing fifteen or so shots in a row, tommy was getting frustrated.

and it didn’t help with sapnap and george staring at him through the kitchen windows.

“doin’ great, kid,” sapnap encouraged weakly, taking a drink of the lemonade y/n had lovingly prepared for the boys. just watching the older man sip made tommy’s mouth dry, but he was determined to make five shots in a row before taking a break.

tommy glared at the man before turning his gaze back to his mentor. “ignore him, tommy,” y/n spoke gently. “nick couldn’t hit a target if it was three paces away.”

“that’s a lie!”

“im kidding,” y/n laughed, placing a hand on tommy’s shoulder and turning him away from the distraction that was sapnap. “but seriously, there’s almost always going to be someone watching when you shoot. the more you can tune them out, the better. just focus on your aim--and make sure your grip is looser. you’re gonna snap that string in no time otherwise.”

“loose grip, focus on aim,” tommy breathed and she patted his shoulder as he turned back to the target ahead of him. he hoisted the bow up slowly and pulled the string back just enough that it wasn’t fully taut. he made sure his aim was a little higher than his target, and released the whizzing arrow. the arrow pierced just outside of the center ring.

“perfect,” y/n smiled. “now, do it again.” and he did, taking another deep breath and allowing himself to focus in on the feel of the rough wood on his fingertips, and the tight string he was pulling. the arrow hit just beside his last. she nodded encouragingly. “keep going.”

tommy could feel his heart start to thump in his chest from the excitement of his accurate aim. he took another calming breath and watched as the arrow lodged closer to the center.

“great aim,” she complimented and he grinned as he pulled another one back, trying to contain his shaking as he aimed. the arrow shot lower than his previous, but on the target nonetheless. “still a good shot. one more?”

“yeah,” tommy nodded, licking his dry lips as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver. heart still thumping with utter excitement and pride at y/n complimentary words, he quickly released the arrow and his smile dropped as the arrow lodged into the ground before the target.

“hey, that’s fine!” y/n assured as tommy groaned and dropped his head. “four in a row is an amazing improvement, tommy. you should take a break and reward yourself.”

tommy sighed, looking to the shameful arrow. “yeah. alright.” he dropped the bow to the ground along with his quiver. he looked to his slightly splintered fingers. “im gonna go.. wash up.”

“alright,” y/n smiled as tommy scampered away. she entered into the open kitchen, smiling at her guests. “you boys doing alright?”

they nodded. “when did you take up parenting, y/n?” george giggled. she rolled her eyes as she went to pour her and tommy their own glasses of lemonade. “no, seriously! you care for that kid a lot, it-it’s not a bad thing!”

she sighed, leaning against her counter as she sipped at her lemonade. “i know you two haven’t always agreed with him in the past, but i think tommy’s a good kid. i like his ethic, and i think he has a lot of potential. but that being said..” she shook her head. “he’s so young.” the boys nodded. “he’s been thrown into such a life of chaos and destruction, and im not saying he’s at all innocent, but.. i think it’s good for him to learn that there’s more to this world than just war and enemies. there’s...”

“neutral,” sapnap finished for her. she let out a laugh.

“yeah, neutral,” she agreed, tapping her fingers against her cold glass. “but, yeah, if teaching him peace and self care is motherly of me..” she shrugged. “then i guess im alright with being a parent.”

“that’s sweet,” sapnap nodded. “i hate it.” the three of them laughed, y/n laying a light slap on the man’s arm before tommy’s voice called out to her.

“y/n! can i have some help?”

“im coming!” she called back, setting down her glass of lemonade.

“go help your poor son,” george teased, resting his head in his hand as he gazed at y/n amusedly. she rolled her eyes.

“behave, you two,” she laughed before leaving the kitchen.

there was a moment of silence before george spoke, “i do think it’s quite sweet how y/n’s taken tommy in. i think it’s good for both of them.”

“you say that now,” sapnap sighed, leaning back in his chair. “but just wait until tommy’s back to feeling 100% and y/n’s going around saying “pog” all the time.”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch @amibismexy @keiarma @akaichi-blog @runningoffofcaffeine @nonetookind @aquilla-favonia @feverish-dove @izuruamme @weeb-bb @bialin @justachillbisexual @kiritokunuwu @natalie-is-a-wall comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

everything happens for a reason part 7 - zuko x fem!reader

I think my ways are wearing me down

part 6 | masterlist | part 8

a/n: as said very astutely in my outline, "y/n just keeps taking L's"

i actually had to take breaks while writing the final scene and watching the episode LMAo i forgot how fucking sad this scene was!!

warning(s): you know what happens in this chapter. its siege of the north part 2. its so much more angst like SO MUCH ANGST. im so sorry i got so sad while writing this

wc: 4.0k

chapter title comes from brand new city by mitski!

Y/N adjusted her hold on the basket of clothes as she knocked on the door with her free hand, pushing it open after waiting a few moments.

“Prince Zuko?” she called in a whisper. They had gotten past the point of formalities, but it was a precaution she opted to take when they met like this. She spotted him sitting on his bed and he gave her a thumbs up, a sign she took to mean they were in the clear. Y/N closed the door behind her and bounded over, then set the basket on his bed.

“Alright. I brought you the book that you wanted to borrow.” She unearthed the novel from the pile of clothes with caution, taking care to not ruin the hard work that went into folding all of them. “I had to hide it so I could get in here — no one thinks anything of a servant bringing clothes around, but books are a little more suspicious. But here you go! My very own edition of ‘Keiko and the Koalaotter’.”

“Thank you!” The prince grinned as he took the book and examined the cover. “I’ve always been curious about Water Tribe culture, even more after you started teaching me about it. They don’t really tell us about it in our classes.”

“It’s not really accurate to actual Water Tribe stuff, but it is cute,” she laughed. “I remember begging my parents for a koalaotter for weeks after I finished it. They told me that there was no way to get one all the way in the Earth Kingdom, but I never listened to them.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” His eyes lit up as he ran over to the windowsill. “I got you a gift too!”

“Zuko, really? You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I did. So don’t even think about not accepting it,” he joked. He picked something up from a vase and bounded back over, doing as good a job of hiding the flowers behind his back as his excited grin.

“What is it?” she questioned.

“They’re silver wisterias!” he exclaimed as he presented the bouquet. “They grow in the palace gardens. They’re really pretty, and so are you, and I know how much you love the gardens, so I thought you’d like it.”

She felt her cheeks heat up when she accepted the gift, twirling the stem in her fingers as she inhaled its sweet scent with a smile. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Zuko. Thank you.”

“Of course! You could wear one in your hair, pin one onto your uniform, put them in your room, whatever you want.”

As she carefully ran her fingers over the petals, she couldn’t stop the nagging question at the back of her mind from escaping.

“Why are you so nice to me?” she blurted out, causing Zuko’s brows to furrow in confusion.

“Because you’re my friend. Friends are nice to each other.”

“I know, but why are we friends?” she pushed. “You know that you could get in trouble for talking to me like this, but you still do it. Why?”

He pondered the question for a moment before he answered. “Well.. you don’t treat me like everyone else. I’m the prince, so everyone here has to do what I want and be nice to me. But you’re not like that. When it’s just the two of us, you treat me like anyone else, and I like that — I know that you always mean what you say, so when you’re nice to me I know it’s because you like me, not because you have to be. Why do you do that?” the prince asked as he turned the tables. “You know that you could get in trouble for talking to me like this, but you still do it. Why?”

She punched him playfully on the shoulder and giggled. “Someone’s gotta keep you humble.”

His cheeks flushed a bright red as he rubbed his arm shyly. “I’m really glad we’re friends. Sometimes it feels like you’re my only one in this whole nation.”

“So am I,” she beamed. “Always and forever, right?”

“Right.”

-

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she gasped, immediately whipping her head around frantically to see if the Avatar was still there, but Katara shook her head.

“He’s gone,” Katara said miserably, confirming her suspicions. “I woke up a few minutes before you and I checked everywhere.”

“Great,” she muttered. She rubbed the back of her head and winced — she had a feeling she would be plagued by headaches for at least the next couple of days.

“So…” Katara began. “You and Zuko both recognized each other. He— he said he thought that you were dead.”

Y/N pursed her lips, wondering how to start that story, when Sokka and Yue burst into the oasis on Appa.

“What happened?” he questioned. “Where’s Zuko?”

“He took Aang,” Katara mourned. “He took him right out from under me.”

“It’s not your fault, Katara,” Y/N insisted. “It really looks like he’s improved since… since last time.”

“‘Last time’?” Sokka asked, prompting a sigh from Y/N. She looked to Yue for help, and the princess nodded supportively.

“We have… history.” She looked at her hands for a moment before continuing. “I’m not from the Northern Water Tribe. My mother is, but I was born in a small village in the Earth Kingdom. I told you that my village was invaded, Katara, but after it, my mother and I were captured for being waterbenders, and they took us to the Fire Nation to work as healers and servants in the palace.”

“I became friends with Zuko there. He was nothing like you saw today, or like anything you know from the past. He was kind, and caring, and passionate, and he made my dismal life a little bit brighter. And… we ended up falling for each other.”

“We went too far, the Fire Lord found out, and— well, he was going to kill me. My mother managed to get me out, but she stayed behind, and I haven’t seen her since that night. I haven’t seen Zuko since that night. I always held hope that I would find my way back and see them both again, but now that Zuko is like… like that?” She bit down on her lip and shook her head.

“Now I don’t know what to think. He’s completely different than anything I knew, than the boy that I fell in love with. And I can’t help but think about what happened to my mother if that is what happened to Zuko.” And I can’t help but think that it’s my fault for not being there for him.

A collective silence hung in the air for just a moment before Sokka broke it. “You had a thing with Zuko?”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh as Katara hit him on the shoulder. “Sokka, now is not the time!”

“No,” she chuckled. “No, it’s alright. It’s a lot, I know. It’s just… impossible. That the Zuko I knew turned into someone like this. I mean, you saw, Katara— he didn’t even hesitate to try and hurt me.”

Katara pulled her into a warm embrace before separating and looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N, for all that you’ve been through. And I know that fighting against Zuko hurts, so if you can’t come after Aang with us then I completely understand—”

“No,” she said once more, something hardening in her eyes. “I’ll help you find Aang, it’s the least I can do. Besides, I… I have to see him again. I have to see him again to know that this is actually real, that— that this is actually who he is now.”

Katara nodded solemnly; Sokka had already started walking back to Appa with Yue. “Well, Zuko couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll find him — Aang’s gonna be fine.”

Katara looked back hopefully at Y/N and she met her eyes with a smile, though slightly strained, as she jogged to catch up with them. But as she climbed onto Appa with her fellow waterbender, the anger in his eyes was all she could see.

The boy she fought might’ve been the Fire Prince, but it was not her Zuko.

-

Cold.

That was all Zuko seemed to know as he trekked through the frozen tundra, the blizzard around him threatening to end him at any moment. No more had he despised the Water Tribes than he did in this moment, but the weight of the Avatar on his back and the promise of his honor was enough to push him onwards.

The only thing on his mind that he couldn’t shake was her.

Zuko thought she was dead, honestly and truly. Few were lucky enough to escape his father’s wrath once it was incurred upon them — Zuko himself wasn’t even an exception — and though he wanted nothing more than for her to be one of the few, he knew that she was dead. There was no other explanation.

For years, the waterbender had been a staple in his mind — a memory of a childhood love, of a better time. He thought about her when he fought against his soldiers on slow evenings on the ship, her words of encouragement and joking retorts echoing through his ears as he went through every form. He thought about her when he talked to his uncle, his attitude often mirroring hers. The morning of the Agni Kai, he almost turned to her for reassurance before remembering.

Spirits, Zuko thought about her every time he looked at the water. And even all these years after her disappearance, he was still plagued by nightmares of her fate.

He had resigned himself to mourning her. Zuko truly thought she was dead.

But there she was, in the flesh, with the Avatar and his friends. Breathing. Alive. His enemy.

How the fuck was he supposed to deal with that?

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, but it was obvious the years since her escape had weathered her. He noticed a certain emptiness in her eyes, the brightness from their childhood a distant memory. It was obvious she had grown — she carried a certain elegance that he didn’t remember, and her skill in waterbending had improved so much since the days of their sparring sessions.

It felt like he had betrayed her. The expression she wore after his first blast was like a physical weight, the guilt of broken promises heavy over his head when he struck the final blow. So familiar to their friendly fights, yet such a far cry.

But they weren’t kids anymore. She had changed, and so had he.

It had been years. Any feelings he still harbored for her didn’t matter anymore.

Zuko had a mission, and he was going to complete it no matter what.

-

The tundra was treacherous, the blizzard making it difficult to see anything at all. Y/N had taken to holding Yue’s hand, something the princess had offered when she had seen how restless her friend was, as well as gnawing on the bottom of her lip. She feared for both Zuko and Aang, and she could only hope that they would be able to find them before something happened to either of them.

“Don’t worry,” the princess reassured. “Prince Zuko can’t be getting too far in this weather.”

“I’m not worried they’ll get away in the blizzard,” Katara murmured. “I’m worried that they won’t.”

“They’re not gonna die in this blizzard,” Sokka said as he gripped the reins tighter. “If we know anything, it’s that Zuko never gives up.”

Y/N chuckled softly and nodded. “You’ve got that right.”

Yue gave her hand a squeeze and a small smile, a sentiment that Y/N returned as Sokka continued. “They’ll survive, and we’ll find them.”

It took a few more minutes of riding and searching, but eventually a bright blue light streaked through the air. Katara gasped and pointed up. “Look!” she exclaimed. “That’s gotta be Aang! Yip yip!”

Appa groaned once more and Sokka turned to follow the light — it had stopped in a small cove before glowing brilliantly then disappearing — and sure enough, Zuko and Aang were down in the snow.

“Appa!” he cheered as they landed, causing Zuko’s eyes to flick up too. Y/N met his gaze for just a moment before he broke it, throwing Aang to the side and easing into a bending stance as Katara slid off of Appa’s back.

“Here for a rematch?” Zuko challenged, the undeserved confidence he spoke with a glimpse of the past.

“Trust me, Zuko,” Katara countered as she raised her hands, “It’s not going to be much of a match.”

She blocked his fire blast then sent a current of snow at him, launching him up into the air on a frozen column before letting him fall to the ground and knocking him out. Y/N couldn’t help but wince, and as Sokka jumped down to free Aang, she slid down as well.

She ran over the pile of snow and bent it off of Zuko, then knelt down next to him and pulled off her glove. She put two fingers on his neck and confirmed what she already thought, but it was still a relief. He was alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer if he stayed out here.

“What are you doing?” she heard Sokka yell. Y/N turned to find everyone back on Appa already, staring expectantly at her.

“We can’t leave him!” Y/N protested.

“Sure we can!” he countered. “Now come on, let’s go!”

“No,” she insisted, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. It was ice cold. “If we leave him, he’ll die!”

“She’s right.” Aang airbended himself off of Appa and helped her pick up Zuko; Aang bringing himself and the prince back onto the bison with his element and Y/N climbing back up with a hand from Katara.

Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, this makes a lot of sense. Let’s bring the guy who’s constantly trying to kill us.”

Y/N ignored the remark and met Aang’s eyes, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’. He smiled and nodded, then grabbed the reins and took off.

As they flew through the sky, Y/N glanced down at Zuko. He looked so much more peaceful now than a few moments ago, his features relaxed rather than tense. It was strange seeing him like this after all these years; angry, scarred, changed. Nothing like the reunion she had imagined.

She bent some of the snow falling down into water and molded it over the cuts on his face, the element taking on a slight glow as she started to heal him.

“Oh, Zuko,” she murmured. “What happened in those four years?”

As if her concentration had broken, the water previously under her control lost both its shape and glow as it pooled on his face. She frowned and attempted to bend it off, but none of the usual power she felt at night was flowing through her veins.

It was at that moment that Y/N looked up and noticed her surroundings.

Everything was cloaked in a veil of red, a crimson moon their backdrop as they continued through the air. “My bending isn’t working,” Y/N muttered, earning a curious look from Katara.

And to make matters worse, Yue winced and held her head, Aang doing the same.

“Are you okay?” Sokka questioned as he reached out to comfort her.

“I feel faint,” she muttered, the effort it took not lost on Y/N.

“I feel it too.” Aang pressed his palm against the side of his head and grimaced as his gaze shifted upwards. “The Moon Spirit is in trouble.”

Y/N’s eyes widened immediately as they flicked towards Yue, the princess choosing not to meet them as she began to tell them all the story of her birth and how she owed the Moon Spirit her life. By the time she was done the Water Tribe siblings were staring at her with disbelief, but there was no time for questions as they flew into the Spirit Oasis.

The sight that awaited them shocked Y/N to her core. A Fire Nation admiral — one she recognized from all the years ago, yet unable to place a name — held a bag with one clenched fist, the other posing the unsaid threat.

“Don’t bother,” he spat in response to their fighting stances, the two words overflowing with unearned confidence. But as cocky as he may have been, it worked — he knew that they were rendered helpless when he held the possibility of a dying spirit against them.

“Zhao, don’t.” Aang dropped his staff and held his hands up in surrender, an action Y/N and the others mirrored.

Everything after that happened unbelievably quickly. After General Iroh — a man she knew as both the ruthless general that laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred long days and Zuko’s surprisingly kind uncle — threatened the admiral with his own firebending, Y/N foolishly believed it to be the end once he let the fish back into the pond.

But any hopes of peace were dashed with the slice of firebending the admiral sent at Tui, plunging the world back into shades of grey just as quickly as it had returned.

“NO!”

A bloodcurdling scream rang in the air; Y/N thought whoever produced it must’ve been insane. It took her a moment to realize the strangled sound had come from her, and that Sokka’s grip on her arms was the only thing stopping her from foolishly throwing herself into the raging battle that had started.

Did the admiral not understand what he had just done? To attack any spirit was to inflict the rage of many others, to kill a spirit was to sign not only one's own death warrant, but those around him as well.

To kill the Moon Spirit meant to destroy waterbending as the world knew it. To kill the Moon Spirit meant to disrupt the balance of the world. To kill the Moon Spirit meant to kill Yue.

The admiral should’ve considered himself very lucky that her waterbending was gone. With it, Y/N knew she would’ve done something she would regret.

As soon as the flames of Iroh’s onslaught disappeared, Sokka’s grip loosened on her arms and she all but sprinted over to the pond. A choked sob fell from her lips when she saw the dead fish in the water, palpable horror in the air as the rest of the group joined her.

Not even Aang’s feat of merging with the Ocean Spirit could help — it might’ve saved the tribe from the attack on the Fire Nation, but it could do nothing for the dead spirit. Y/N watched on mournfully as Iroh placed Tui back into the pond, the mortal body of the fish laying there unmoving.

“It’s too late,” Katara lamented. “It’s dead.”

Iroh looked up and met Y/N’s eyes, recognition flashing through them for just a moment before they moved to Yue’s. The blue hues of her irises were even more striking than usual — they were the only sign of color in the world around them.

His own widened with surprise as he gestured at her. “You have been touched by the Moon Spirit. Some of its life is in you.”

Yue seemed to understand what he was saying as she raised her head, her features taking on a mask of stoicism. “Yes, you’re right. It gave me life… maybe I can give it back.”

It was as if lightning had struck Y/N, the way that fear was jolted into her heart. “No!” she cried at the same time as Sokka, a reprise of her earlier plea. “Yue, you can’t!”

“You don’t have to do that!” Sokka reached out for her hand but she wrenched it out of his grasp — nothing they could say was going to change her mind.

“It’s my duty.” The princess stated it so plainly, carving the letters on her headstone herself.

“I won’t let you!” Sokka insisted. “Your father told me to protect you.”

“Yue, your duty isn’t to die for your tribe!” Y/N cried. She couldn’t think, spirits she could barely breathe. She couldn’t go through this again. She couldn’t go through this again. “Please, there has to be another way!”

She smiled sadly at Y/N and shook her head. “This was what I was born to do.” The princess glanced at the pond then took a step forward, wrapping Y/N in the tightest hug she could muster. She pressed her lips against Y/N’s cheek in a feather light kiss before she pulled away and continued forward and placed her hands against the koi fish.

The fish began to glow, Yue closed her eyes, she collapsed into Sokka’s arms.

And that was it.

The color returned to the world, but Y/N was frozen in place. She couldn’t do anything to save her friend, the girl that she was pretty sure she loved, as she died in front of her. Her cheek was still burning from where Yue’s lips had touched, and she wanted to bottle that warmth because she knew that was the last time she would ever feel it.

The first tear to fall snapped her out of her paralysis as she fell to her knees next to Sokka, her body cradled in his arms as he mourned for a lost love. Y/N wanted to scream, she wanted to sob, she wanted to do anything to get this anger and sadness out but she could do nothing but stare, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

Her body slowly faded away, and Y/N could’ve laughed at the irony. Yue gave her life for the spirits and all they could leave them with was the fleeting memory.

The fish in Iroh’s hands began to glow and he placed it back in the water, and almost immediately it returned to its natural rhythm. The oasis took on the glow of the fish and it formed the cruelest joke of them all.

Princess Yue. She was ethereal, both her hair and white dress flowing down her back and a peaceful expression on her face. She was more beautiful than ever, and her voice echoed through the oasis as she spoke.

“I will always be with you, Y/N. Thank you for making me feel alive.” A small smile, much like the one she gave her just moments ago, played on her lips. “I love you.”

Y/N could do nothing but stare, awestruck and heartbroken, as she whispered something to Sokka and kissed him.

And then she was gone.

Her gaze was trained forward, tears spouting and falling down her cheeks, some dim part of her still hoping that it was just a cruel joke by the spirits. She couldn’t go through this again.

How could they do this to her again? How could they introduce a light into her life and make her fall in love, then wrench it away from her grasp? She felt selfish for only caring about herself. She couldn’t go through this again.

Yue was gone.

She couldn’t go through this again.

Another strangled sob fell from her lips and Katara pulled her into a hug. That simple motion seemed to open to the floodgates, and suddenly she was choking on her own tears. Katara’s arms around her were the only tether she had to the world right now, she had to focus on it or else she would lose herself to the grief.

It felt like the minutes were hours with how long it took until Y/N was finally able to walk out of the oasis, but Katara and Sokka stayed by her side the entire time. When they finally stumbled out into the real world, Y/N felt weaker than ever. The constant go go go of the siege had finally caught up to her, and she was so damn tired.

“Always and forever.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

She was losing hope in promises.

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy @carisi-sonny

atla: @marianne1806

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe)  words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: im certified atsumu simp now 

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie

| Chapter One |

Chapter Two

When you turn the corner to head towards the gym, Atsumu is already waiting for you. Determined to make this as convincing as possible, he slings an arm around your shoulders and you do a fantastic job of pressing yourself against his side, wrapping your own arm around his middle. You ignore the thought that he is comfortingly warm and very solid next you, reminding yourself you’re doing this for peaceful showers.

The two of you approach the gym and as if they were waiting for you, the entire team is standing at the entrance. A few of their brows raise, clearly surprised Atsumu wasn’t lying. Though some of them look suspicious, eyeing the two of you up and you prepare yourself for questions.

When you get within earshot, one of them shouts, “Wow Miya, we really thought you were lying!”

“Yeah! Why’ve you been hiding this beauty from us, huh?”

Before he can speak, for some reason you decide to take the blame, answering, “I was a little nervous to meet you all for a while.”

If Atsumu is surprised at all, he hides it, instead holding you a bit closer, his hand splaying across your opposite shoulder and gushing, “Cute, isn’t she?”

One of them who doesn’t seem convinced asks, “So how’d you meet?”

Now Atsumu takes the lead. “Funny story actually! We met in the bathroom! Her favorite shower stall is the one right next to mine, and we both like late night showers.”

You can’t help the frown that turns your lips downward. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” you admit, making the members of the team smirk a little bit. “I swear, he’d wait around for me.”

“I did not!” He pouts, and it’s beginning to look like the more suspicious members are starting to believe you.

So, you go in for the kill. “Sure, you didn’t,” you smile, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek that you don’t give yourself time to think is okay or not. That seems to stun Atsumu, which is a feat in itself, but you don’t give anyone time to think anything of it as you give them a light wave goodbye and slip out of Atsumu’s arms. “It was nice meeting you all, but shouldn’t you get to practice? I’m sure I’ll be seeing you more often now!”

They give you parting waves, some of them just as stunned as Atsumu seems to be. On your way out, you risk a glance backwards and see them surround Atsumu, one of them pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his blonde locks while they all laugh and enter the gym. Atsumu grinning the widest of them all. You aren’t sure why, but you’re smiling too. Strangely glad to have helped him out.

His teammates encircle him, clapping him on the back and congratulating him, jokingly calling him a bastard for going and snagging a girl like that. He can’t help thinking the same. You shocked him with that kiss out of the blue, enough that he probably looked more lovestruck than shocked to his teammates. He’s impressed with your commitment to this charade.

Before he disappears into the gym, Atsumu takes one last look at you heading down the path. That went perfectly. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, he thinks about that small little kiss the entire practice.

The following days are absolute hell. You have to garner the courage to tell your roommate before word gets out because the rumor that Miya Atsumu finally has a girlfriend spreads like wildfire. She’s hurt at first, but like you suspect, she forgives you after you tell her how you and Atsumu met.

She seems to think the shower story is the most adorable thing she’s ever heard as her squeals of, “So cute!!” are loud enough you swear the entire floor must hear it.

Your daily routine changes, feeling like you have to peer around every corner in fear of the fan club waiting to ambush you. But after reluctantly disclosing that to Atsumu, you notice he makes a point to walk with you whenever he can. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and once when you actually do run in to the fan club, the glare he gives them is cold enough to ice over a lake and you’re pretty sure they won’t bother you even if Atsumu is absent.

Additionally, you and Atsumu start spending a lot more time together. You eat lunch with him almost every day, sometimes joined by a few members of the team, sometimes by your roommate, other times the two of you eat alone. And you’re beginning to find those are the days you like the most. The days when the two of you can just be without feeling the pressure to pretend.

“So does your brother still play volleyball?” You ask one day, curious why if they were such a powerhouse in high school why they didn’t continue that into college.

“I always liked volleyball just a little more than him.”

“He quit?”

Atsumu shrugs, shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth. “He went to culinary school, always had a weird place in his heart for food.”

“And that was volleyball for you?”

He stares at you, unprepared for this barrage of questions. There was this strange familiarity growing between the two of you, and the more time he spends with you alone the more he feels like he knows you. It makes it easier to pretend for everyone else, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s making it harder for him to remember this is all pretend.

Before he can reply, you continue, “If you love volleyball so much, why aren’t you playing professionally then?”

His brows lift. “And how did yer pretty little ears hear about that?”

You roll your eyes, but definitely need to shove the feeling of embarrassment down to be able to admit, “My roommate told me.”

“Curious today, aren’tcha?”

You stiffen. “Well, I should probably know these things if we’re dating,” you mumble, returning to your food trying to hide your flustered expression.

Yet again, you surprise him with your commitment to this façade. The two of you could easily sit here in silence since it’s just the two of you, but since you’ve started eating lunch together both of you have started to get to know the other more. So, he just smiles at you and admits, “Yeah, I could, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to the whole college experience, ya know?” He rests his chin in his hand, wondering if he should continue. He hasn’t really told anyone his feelings about playing professionally, and how he feels that with every day he ignores the offers the less likely he’ll be able to make the transition the longer he waits. “I’m still thinkin’ about it. The offers are still there.”

You cock your head, and he refuses to look at you, feeling like you have a gift for seeing straight through him. “Is college that great?”

Now he laughs, and in an attempt to bring this conversation back to lighter waters he wraps an arm around you and smothers you against his chest teasing, “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’ta met you!”

You roll your eyes and tell yourself that for the sake of the charade you let yourself sink into his embrace. When he releases you, you stick your tongue out at him. “I know you purposefully changed the subject, but I’ll let it slide. Consider yourself lucky.”

He puts his hands together in a fake prayer. “I’ll forever remember the kindness,” he says dramatically.

To which you scoff, “I highly doubt that.”

~

You study together when he’s available, but usually volleyball takes precedence over studying most nights. Sometimes he joins you in the library late at night, finding you in your favorite corner, plopping down beside you, blonde hair damp from the quick shower he took and distracting you from schoolwork with how practice went that day.

Already a few weeks in to your agreement, one night the two of you are in the library rather late, Atsumu’s practice ended late and he has a paper due in the morning that he’s desperate to finish. For the first hour, he’s chatty, unable to focus on what he needs to get done, despite constant reminders from you and promises that you’ll go get ice cream from the dining hall when he finishes.

The next hour, he seems to get in the zone, typing furiously away on his computer. Honestly, he isn’t sure if what he’s writing is even good but at this point, he doesn’t care, it just needs to get done.

But after his stint of concentration, you’re suddenly struck by the realization that he’s been silent beside you for a few minutes now. No sound of typing or conversation, and it goes on long enough that you become concerned. Looking over, you find him slumped over in his chair, head on his keyboard, fast asleep.

You fight the urge to laugh at him. Taking only a few selfish moments to marvel over his face, his usual smirking expression replaced by his eyes softly closed and his mouth slightly open. He sighs a deep breath before subconsciously stretching his arms out across the table and you get a nice view of his biceps flexing beneath his black shirt.

It’s then you become aware that you’ve been staring at him way too long and shake him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and upon seeing you, that once infuriating smirk he likes to wear rises to his lips. “Who woulda thought I’d be wakin’ up to a pretty girl lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, knowing exactly how to fluster you.

You shake your head, laughing and packing up your things. “Come on big baby, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, picking his head up and promptly stuffing his things away in his bag. You decide to ignore what his soft, sleepy voice is doing to your heart rate and instead focus on how he’s putting his things away. That backfires on you, as you start thinking about how long and deft his fingers are and you have to physically look away from him to stop your mind going in that direction.

The two of you leave the library, walking quietly back to your dorm building, you aren’t expecting his hand to slip into yours; those long fingers you were just trying to get out of your head intertwining with yours. You look up at him confusedly and without looking at you, he brushes it off, “Just in case.”

You press your lips into a firm line, replying, “Right.”

He won’t dare admit he did that subconsciously. He just reached out for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, only realizing his mistake from the confused expression you gave him. He internalizes his sigh of relief that he can pass it off as keeping up your fake relationship and you seem none the wiser.

When you make it up to your floor, at the point in the hallway where you need to split ways, despite nobody being around that you need to fake for, you press a light kiss to his cheek and say, “Goodnight Atsumu.”

You’re gone before he can get a reply in.

~

You start coming to his games more often, dragging your roommate along (though she doesn’t mind one bit) and do your best to ignore just how good he looks playing volleyball. It doesn’t help that your roommate keeps commenting things like, “god you are so lucky,” and “just look at him!”

You are looking at him. And it pisses you off that she’s right. He’s annoyingly god-like, and you find yourself staring at his biceps and thighs a lot more than is necessary. Your heart fluttering traitorously whenever he grins when he makes a successful play. Even when he raises his fist to silence the crowd when he serves, which before you thought was utterly ridiculous—you now find yourself holding your breath as goosebumps spread across your skin.

He denies to himself just how much he loves seeing you in the stands. Unable to stop the feeling that swells in his chest with the way you look at him. With the fan club, he knows all they see is the surface. He’s cocky enough to know he’s good-looking (and if he didn’t think so, the fan club certainly feels otherwise). But with you—you look like you want to devour him. He doesn’t know if you are aware of it or not, but you watch him with predatory intent in a way he can’t explain that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

At some point, he has to admit it. He fucking loves it.

One particularly memorable game, he swears you never take your eyes off him. And he feels like he’s at the top of his game, like nothing can go wrong for him. He’s so full of adrenaline and excitement afterwards that when he finds you in the hallway, he sweeps you up into an enormous hug. Your laughter filling the air and god—he loves your laugh; he could listen to it forever.

You don’t even care how sweaty he is or really if anyone is watching. Your instinct is to wrap your arms around him and squeeze him back, your ego inflating from the glares you can feel boring into your back from the fan club. And it’s easy—far too easy to forget that all of this is fake.

Especially when he pulls away only to plant a kiss right on your mouth, his body too full of adrenaline to truly realize what he’s doing.

And instead of pushing him away, you selfishly pull him closer, fingers laced behind his neck and body slotting against him so perfectly he has to resist the urge to groan. He cradles your head, drawing out the kiss for as long as he can consider appropriate, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just confess to you.

Instead, he lets you go, both of you chalking it up to the adrenaline and the charade. Both secretly knowing it was more than that to both of you.

And you don’t speak of it again, continuing with your sham relationship like nothing has changed.

But a lot of things have changed. It’s been almost 2 months since this started, well past the time needed to convince his teammates this is real. Some part of him refuses to bring it up, unwilling to let you go and wanting to drag this on for as long as possible.  

Despite knowing that this will all have to come to an end eventually.

~

“You gotta be there!” He pouts, doing a wonderful job of obscuring your view of the notebook on the table in front of you. “There’s no way my girlfriend would miss it!”

You groan, head resting on the chair behind you. Atsumu has been trying to convince you for the better part of the hour to come to the party the volleyball team is throwing this weekend. No matter how many times you’ve expressed your disinterest, he’s relentless.

He wiggles his brows. “I’ll throw in an invitation for your roommate too,” he says, knowing full well your roommate will be a pain in your side if she finds out you got invited to this party and refrained from taking her with.

Now you sigh, annoyed that he knows you well enough to sweeten the deal like that. And it isn’t the party that is deterring you, it’s a certain blonde-haired volleyball setter that you’ve been getting far too close to lately that’s making you hesitate. Something about the atmosphere of a party and a little alcohol in both of your systems makes you uneasy. And not in a bad way.

“You promise not to ditch me?” You pout, faking the reason you don’t want to attend.

He crosses over his heart. “I swear it. And besides, I’d be crazy to let ya wander around by yerself.” He gives you a quick wink, then a kiss to your cheek and he’s off to practice, shouting over his shoulder that the party starts at nine.

Your roommate is over the moon at the invitation, insisting you can’t possibly show up right at nine. So, you and she show up fashionably late around ten. Within a few moments, Atsumu finds you and gathers you up into his arms, whispering in your ear, “You’re late, where ya been?”

You smirk. “Roommate insisted on being fashionably late.”

He just chuckles, low in his throat and directly beside your ear—a sound that makes your toes involuntarily curl in your shoes. God, if you’re already curling your toes at the sound of just his voice you’re in for a long night. After releasing you, he easily greets your roommate and takes the two of you to the kitchen where cans of various alcohols are waiting.

You swear your roommate is going to combust with joy, taking a can for herself then happily heading off towards the dance floor. You’re glad she’s pretty independent as you can already feel you’re going to be glued to Atsumu’s side the entire night. You eye the drinks, sigh, and take one for yourself. If this night’s going to be long, might as well enjoy it.

He just watches you, amused, and unable to stop himself from thinking about how good you fucking look tonight. He wanted you to be here not to keep up the act of your relationship but because he actually wants to spend time with you. Lately, it’s the highlight of most of his days, and sue him if he wants to have a little fun.

Setting an arm on your shoulder, he first parades you around the party, letting everyone see just who he’s ‘dating’ and feeling his ego boost from the looks of jealousy he garners from a few people. The teammates who have eaten lunch with you a few times are happy to see you, indulging you in a bit of chit chat and helping loosen you up.

You might’ve been embarrassed to be on Atsumu’s arm had it not felt so damn great to be met with looks of jealousy from guys and girls alike, and it was doing wonders for your self-confidence. Enough that you tap him on the arm and ask to be taken back to the kitchen for another drink. He graciously obliges you, and once both of you have another can in hand, he finds somewhere for you two to sit.

It doesn’t even occur to you how easy it is to curl up beside him, his arm around you on the back of the couch, hand resting on your opposite shoulder while the two of you observe the party in full swing.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” you comment, nodding to the room that was completely cleared out to make room for a dance floor.

“What’s that?” He teases. “I thought you didn’t want to come!”

Poking him in the side and refusing to look up at him, you admit, “I changed my mind.”

You know you’ve dug yourself a nice little hole when he continues, “Are my ears deceiving me? Are you admitting you were wrong?”

“Spare me,” you beg, a grin on your lips nonetheless. It’s then you spot your roommate out on the dance floor, her eyes connecting with yours long enough that she starts beckoning you towards her. “Oh god,” you groan.

She doesn’t stop though, instead abandoning the dance floor and approaching you and Atsumu. “Excuse me sir, but I’m gunna have to steal her for a dance or two.”

Subconsciously you cling to Atsumu, jerking your eyes up to him as he smiles easily saying, “Of course.” Taking your arm, she pulls you up from the couch and out of Atsumu’s arms, dragging you towards the dance floor while you look back at him with a pleading expression. He only waves idly back at you, that infuriating smirk splaying across his lips.

Worming her way into the throng of bodies, she puts her hands on your hips forcing you to sway them along to the music, laughing and encouraging you to ‘let go!!’. Eventually, there’s no resisting the thumping music or the movement of bodies around you, and soon your laughter is mixing with hers as the two of you dance ridiculously with one another.

Atsumu watches from the couch, utterly entranced at your change in behavior. He’s unable to look at anyone else but you, like the rest of the party falls away and its just you on that dancefloor swaying your hips under the flashing lights. He hardly knows what to do with himself as you laugh alongside your roommate, unaware he’s watching you.

At some point, you remember the boy you came here for, and fight your way to the edge of the crowd to catch sight of him. He’s where you left him, sitting on a couch a room away, an ankle crossed over his knee, still drinking his beer and looking unbothered by your absence. You look at him a moment, sitting there in his fitted black tee and dark jeans, so casually good-looking it isn’t fair.

His dark eyes meet yours and there’s something in them that sends goosebumps prickling across your skin. You’re barely even tipsy but there must be something stirring your boldness, otherwise you would have never lifted a hand and beckoned him towards you.

He’s pinned to his seat for a moment when you motion him to join you on the dancefloor. He has an uncanny suspicion that something is going to happen out there, under the safety of the pulsing lights and hidden by the mass of bodies. But some part of him wants that, whispering that it’s all he wants. So, he rises, setting his can on a nearby table and strides out to meet you.

A fire lights in your stomach as he stops in front of you, and now that he’s here you are quite sure what to do with yourself. “You looked bored,” you lie.

“Well, my date ditched me,” he remarks. “But I like her, so I’ll let it slide.”

Your answering smile is enough to send him through the roof. And soon, you’re engulfed by the surging crowd, getting sucked into the middle of the floor, a sense of reality slipping out from beneath the two of you. His hands at your waist, your body pressed up against his, his forehead resting on yours—he’s desperate to close the gap between the two of you. Dying to kiss you, to feel your lips mold to his, fingers lacing in his hair—he wonders what kind of sounds he could elicit from you, sounds just for him, sounds that would get lost in the thumping beat.

His better sense tells him to resist. Knowing that even though you’ve kissed before, this one would be different. It’s just the two of you, free from the pressure of pretending, he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as an act. And even if he could, he isn’t sure he wants to.

All the while, you’re watching him, wondering if he’s going to take the leap. Part of you urging him to. Pathetically wanting him to smother you in his arms and the two of you can just ignore it all tomorrow. It’s seemingly what you do best.

He doesn’t though, allowing him to just enjoy this moment—your proximity, warm breath mingling with his, arms resting on his broad shoulders as the crowd undulates around you. To him, there’s nothing else around, just you and your body fitting perfectly to his, back curved to press closer to him—he’s pitifully so lost in the way you’re moving those hips making him move along with you.

He’s grateful that if you notice him struggling to keep his composure, you don’t say anything. But when he glances at your face, you’re blissfully unaware of his plight, eyes closed murmuring along to the music and relishing the moment in your own way. Your thoughts dominated by how warm he is, how solid he feels, how his hands are resting on your back.

And the two of you stay like that, until you’re broken from your reverie by one of his teammates whistling loudly at the two of you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively that Atsumu just huffs a breath out at.

“I think I need another drink,” you say, pulling away from him.

His arms feel empty now, the clamor of the party destroying the quiet and intimate bubble the two of you had created. But instead of doing anything about it, he just gives you a winning smile—one he feels is half-assed, replying, “Ditto.”

[OLD AND MAY BECOME NON-CANON LATER ON] Got some short stories for ya’ll!

After much struggle i managed to think of some more lore based prompts for some short stories! They’ll be under the cut!

One of a conversation between Helsknight and EvilXisuma, the other of an interaction between TFC and GeminiTay! What can i say im a sucker for these two. The stuff is only slightly proof-read by myself so sorry for any mistakes in grammer or if things sound weird lol

Anyway, I hope ya’ll enjoy! And if i need to add any tw’s just say! I dont think i will though! Long post under the cut though

EX&Hels have a conversation

“So let me get this straight,” Helsknight sat up in his seat and leaned on the table between the two” You’re not considered a hels hermit at all?” Evil Xisuma rolls his eyes but chuckles at the other, he doesn’t blame him for not knowing, hell the only ones who probably knew were him and Grian’s little buddies.

“No, I am not a hels hermit like you. But, I work very similarly. Me personally, I’m the axolotl’s evil clone according to my code. But, and I can’t speak for the others, I still fill up the role of why a hels is created.” Helsknight slowly blinked at the other and rose an eyebrow.

“What is that supposed to mean exactly?” Evil X let out a snort at the other’s question.

“Well basically, Hels exist for one reason, to keep the gods, or hermits as we know them, in check. Granted they’re all too nice to do anything we’d do, but the point still stands. Hels are here to counteract the hermits, and the Axolotl doesn’t have a hels per say because I exist. But that’s not stopping the void from making a hels version if need be.” Helsknight leaned back and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Evil X.

“Ok, so because you already existed, the void didn’t make a counterpart for the admin. But what do you mean it could make another? Why would we need a third Xisuma?” Evil X tapped his chin as he thinks of what he should say.

“Well, let’s just say the void has already planned for that” Helsknight could feel the shit-eating grin the other was giving him. But Evil X gestures to another person in the room. Helsknight, begrudgingly, decided to look, and see’s what the other was talking about. There was a turtle Xisuma sitting at a bar, but he looked almost vacant, like an NPC almost.

“Now, I’ve never talked to that guy, and based on the interactions they’ve had with others, he’s entirely just a placeholder, an NPC ready to be coded into action.” Helsknight turned back to Evil X who was looking at him now.”But unless something happens to me, I keep the role of a ‘hels counterpart’ even though I’m not a hels.” Blinking, helsknight picked up his drink, downing the rest of its contents, this was a very weird conversation they were having but, informative. Then something struck him.

“You said something about others earlier” Evil X feigned innocence and confusion, making helsknight growl.

“Earlier this conversation! You said ‘ But, and I can’t speak for the others, I still fill up the role of why a hels is created’. There are others who aren’t technically hels hermits on the server?” Evil X snorted then started laughing. Helsknight slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“No! I’m serious! Who the hell are the others?!” After Evil X got done with his laughing fit, he pretended to wipe away some tears.

“You really are dense my friend” before the other could reply, Evil X continued” The only ones I personally know of, are actually Grian’s-”

“You said that using plurals, does Grian seriously have 2?” Helsknight looked at the other bewildered as he nodded.

“Indeed he does my friend. I don’t entirely understand it myself. One calls themself NpcGrian, or NPG for short, the other one calls themself Robot Grian or RG for short. And between us, RG is definitely the eviler and smarter one of the two. He’s probably the one considered the hels version.” Helsknight slumped back in his seat and rubbed his temple, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright, to get away from that confusing topic, you said hels were made to counter the gods?” Evil X nodded.

“Yee-p” popping the p at the end, Evil X leaned forward.” All the gods being together in one space can be seen as quite a dangerous predicament, and if they ever decided to team up and rise up for some reason, no one would know before it’s too late. So to try and stop that, keep the gods on their toes and aware, the hels were made. You were one of the first to become sentient and seek out your counterpart actually”

Helsknight looked at the other for a moment then realized something. Something that didn’t settle right with him.

“How do you know all of this information? I’m pretty sure not even Xisuma knows this crap.” Hels rose an eyebrow as the other’s expression got darker behind the mask he wore.

“Let’s just say, being locked in the void for ages gives you some free time. And the ability to look through your and your clone’s codes, even though I was never able to edit them.” Huh, well that made sense.

TFC helps Gem out/aka being a god is overwhelming

    Sometimes, to really appreciate the world you live in, you just gotta walk around. Taking in the sights of what the world holds and what your fellow hermits have made. And honestly, TFC is usually blown away by how talented the hermits are. He may not be much of a builder himself, but he’s happy they’ve kept him along the way nonetheless. Little ol’ miner TFC, walking amongst godly builders, figuratively and literally.

    Sometimes on TFC’s walks, he’ll come across other hermits, not often, but it’s always pleasant when he does. TFC admits, he should get out to talk to the others more, but he can’t help it. The mines make him feel at home. But today, walking into one of the newer hermits areas, he had a bad feeling in his gut.

    Deciding to stray from the path TFC decided to look around the area, a bit more in dept. And low and behold, once getting close to one of the new hermits custom trees, he heard soft, stifled crying. Like they were trying to cover it up. Eyes softening, TFC went over to the home next to this wonderful tree and knocked, before letting himself peek inside.

    GeminiTay sat in the corner, her head snapped up and it was obvious how overwhelmed and tired she looked. TFC gave a slight smile and walked inside, closing the door gently. Gemini watched tensely as TFC walked over, his pickaxe he used as a cane clicking with every step. But, TFC sat down next to her and softly asked.

    “Would physical touch help this situation or worsen it?” Seeing Gemini’s tears starting to well up more, TFC opened his arms, offering her a safe space. And she took it. Gemini scrambled to get up and hug the other. She didn’t know why his presence felt so...comforting, but it did, and once she started the hug, the floodgates were let loose. She couldn’t hold back her tears even if she tried.

    TFC held the young girl close, gently rubbing circles into her back as her whole frame shook and twitched. TFC did notice the leaves that moved like butterflies flying about in the home. He semi-watched them as he comforted the hermit in his arms, taking notes on the situation.

    Once TFC heard the girls’ cries soften and as her body became less shaky, he decided to start talking.

    “I understand if you’re too overwhelmed to talk right now, but was this panic caused by some aspect of your godly nature?” TFC waited patiently, and when he felt a soft nod on his shoulder he let out a little sigh.

    “You are one of the newest gods in general, not even to the server, have you been taught anything more than the basics yet?” a small shake of her head.”So you’re not yet in tune with who you are and the powers you possess, and due to that, something within you snapped, and you started hearing noises or voices, am I correct?” TFC could feel Gem tense like he had just read her mind, but she gave a soft nod. TFC looked around at the leaf butterflies, more seem to have gathered.

    “Are the voices still present? Have they gotten any louder or more intense?” With the soft nod, TFC was starting to understand a bit more. Gently sitting Gemini up, he made the corner they were in into a cozy one full of blankets and pillows. 

    Gemini then watched, rubbing her slightly puffed-up eyes, as TFC started to gather the leaf butterflies. Once he got a good amount he gently set them free outside. And the more he let go, the less overwhelmed Gemini felt. Once most of the creatures were out TFC made his way back over and sat across from Gemini.

    “Ready to talk?” Gemini nodded, sniffling and wiping away any stray tears. Taking a deep breath Gemini starts talking.

    “So...So I was just doing my normal routine, today I decided to do some enchanting. But then my tree, my /tree/ started talking to me and I got confused. So I went over and put a hand on the tree.”Gemini paused, breath hitching again. TFC gently held one of her hands, reassuring her to take her time. After catching her breath, Gem continued.

    “And..And then I...And then I heard all these voices and cries. Some were asking me for help, some were..thanking me? Some were crying, some cheering...But they all came at once and I couldn’t shut them off. Then I started hearing more despair than anything else and I... I couldn’t do it. My body got all fuzzy! And my eyes got blurry but different from tear blur. I felt my body...change. And so I ran in here. And I only started to feel my body go back to normal shortly before you came..” Gem panted softly when she was done, her tears back and starting to fall again. She was looking down at her feet.

    But when she felt a soft big hand on her cheek, whipping away her tears, she looked up. TFC gave her a gentle smile, a reassuring one, and, it honestly helped her more than she would have thought.

    “That my dear was your body being forced into its godly form. Every god has one, but most prefer not to be in them, as they can be taxing after long uses. But they’re nothing to be afraid of. You just went into it unwillingly.” Gemini nods softly, following along so far.”And if you would like, I can help you learn how to go into it and out of it, at will. I’ll do it with you.”

Gemini thought about it for a while. She didn’t know how long, but TFC never rushed her into deciding, only waiting patiently, giving her time to think. But, if she learned how to control that form, maybe it would be less frightening if this ever happened again. Gem then looked at TFC and gave a quick nod.

“Yea, ok. I, I want to learn how to control this...godly form of mine. But you’ll do it with me right?” TFC nodded and scooted so that they bot sat criss-cross, knees touching each other. TFC then gently held both of her hands.

“Ok, to start off with, think of why you became a god, and what you’re the god of. Think of what that means to you.” Gem nodded, closing her eyes as she held TFC’s hands. Furrowing her brows a bit Gemini thought.

Thought of the event that lead her to be a god, why she did what she did. She thought of what that event meant to her and why she would do it again. And she felt the tension in her shoulders released. Gem then thought of what it meant to be the goddess of the forest, what the responsibility and future actions might hold for her.

“Good, you’re doing great” TFC’s voice rang through her ears.”Now hold onto that feeling, clutch onto it, cherish it. Once you’ve done that, let go. Let yourself feel your body change, let it morph and melt into something new.”

Taking one more deep breath, Gem followed his instructions. The feeling her ‘job’ gave her, the hope she had for herself, and so on, she held it close to her heart, and let herself stop caring about the mortal plane for a bit. And she felt herself change. Like what happened earlier, but less jarring and harsh. She felt her body almost melt, felt it slither around while being on one spot. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant like it was before. It felt like shifting over in bed, something familiar.

“There we go, you’ve done it, you can open your eyes.” Cautiously, Gem opened her eyes, and instead of being met with the soft grandpa from before, there was a whole new person. They looked like TFC but also now. They had more sharp edges and the particles of different ores around them were very present, and they radiated the energy of a god. He reached over and cupped her cheek.

“How do you feel?” Gemini thinks, she looked down at her new self, realizing how much bigger the two were now. She looked at all the leaf butterflies, not being as scared of them now. She felt power coursing through her, the whispered of the plants and tree’s outside. But now that she’s not in her panicked state, it was a lot more comforting. Gem felt a soft smile form over their lips. Looking up at TFC she felt warmth in her chest.

“Now that I’m not panicking, it feels nice. It feels warm, and I feel stronger.” TFC nods, looking pleased.

“Now, let’s go back to normal shall we?” Gem nods and puts her head down, closing her eyes again.

“Now, recognize your form, recognize the power coursing through you. Hold that feeling, and imagine yourself tucking it away for later. Let yourself relax and let your body morph once more” And once again, Gem tried her best to follow along.

And next time she opened her eyes, the normal TFC sat in front of her. Looking down at herself, Gem saw her she was back to normal. Smiling Gem leaped up to hug TFC. Hugging back TFC gently pet her hair.

“Now, let’s get you to bed, You need some rest after all that. Tomorrow we’ll talk more about this stuff ok?” 

And with that, TFC and Gem got comfy in the small comfort fort TFC had made and Gem fell asleep. During the afternoon Bdubs came to see gem, but finding her and TFC sleeping, he just smiled fondly and closed the door quietly. Informing the server not to disturb the two for the rest of the night and left the sleeping duo to rest

Chance Encounters

//Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: none

Prompt(s): Sharing an umbrella

'Ah, there it is...' Spencer thought to himself, a slight smile tugging at his lips. That lilting voice that would seep through his apartment walls throughout the day. It was so light, peaceful.

Spencer paused for a moment and shut his eyes, his ear turned to the door to salvage each note, the book that he was reading lightly resting down on his lap. With each breath that rolled through his lungs, he further released himself, and sunk into his chair, his ear perched and alert, hanging on every note. This bodiless voice has been a treasure to him ever since he'd moved in; everyday, around noon, he would make his way out to the living room with a book on hand, and await the song that seems to soothe his qualms and aches.

There were times when he wished he had the courage to go and introduce himself to the woman behind this lovely voice, but those times would pass as he would think himself into spirals of doubt, and settle on leaving things as they are. This is merely a highlight to his daily life, no need to complicate it with personal introductions.

Lost in his thoughts, he'd missed the abrupt stop in her singing, a thump as the door snapped shut after her, and a latch click followed by a light tumble of steps down the hallway. His phone beeped soon after that, causing him to startle a bit before digging into his pocket.

Morgan: You coming tonight, pretty boy?

Spencer furrowed his brow, and tapped back,

Spencer: We had plans tonight?

Morgan: Yes, my cousin is performing in a show downtown. Don't tell me you forgot, I just told you yesterday

Spencer: Oh, right! yes! I will be there.

Morgan: Well hurry it up, the shows about to start.

Spencer: Right. On my way

Spencer then shut his phone then scrambled to gather his things; It's not often that he has the opportunity to see live theatre, so he jumps at any time that he can to experience it. He then strode across the room, stepped into his shoes and fled out of the door, hoping to make it on time.

...

Upon a dazzling stage, a woman's spine bowed to the will of her partner's hand, as her dress fluttered about the white stage light above them, her legs dipping and curling like the wind and her arm stretched beyond her hand, held in an elegant point. Spencer's heart sped with an inward breath of surprise, his eyes glued to the stage before him and fluttering with every movement.

Derek bumped Spencer's shoulder, a knowing smile rested on his lips, "You digging my cousin, poindexter?"

Spencer startled and flicked his eyes next to him for a moment, "Shut, up, I'm trying to pay attention," mumbled, skirting around answering his question, a sporting half smile.

Morgan chuckled, "Hey, it's cool, man," he righted himself in his seat, "I'll introduce you two after the show,"

A twitch of his lips, and a spare glance confirmed Spencer's delight with his offer before they both righted themselves in their seats for the rest of the night.

….

As Spencer began to clap, he scanned the stage for the dancer that struck his mind the most. When he found her, her smile was so wide that her eyes nearly crinkled shut with mirth, and she clutched her stage-mates hand in thanks, and bounded off of the stage with the speed and determination of a newborn calf that had just learned to run.

Morgan sent a side-eye Spencer's way and flicked his head towards the openings on the sides of the stage. He went to step out of the aisle, then caught himself and leaned back towards his companion, "Don't be too nervous, pretty boy, you've got nothing to worry about." He then chuckled at the dissipating storm of doubt in Spencer's eye, then threw his coat over his jacket and sauntered down the aisle beside their seats.

Spencer's breath tumbled out of him as he processed Morgan's words, yet couldn't fight the hand that rose to brush his curls back from his forehead. He then gathered his coat in his arms, and fell into step after his friend backstage.

...

Spencer entered upon an embrace between the two of them, with (y/n)'s face spilling over in warm glee  peeking over Morgan's shoulder. The warmth from her smile spread to his cheeks as he absentmindedly followed the nooks of her crinkled nose.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she squeezed from her throat, her breath caught by the strength of their hug, "I was so worried that you were gonna miss the chance to see if all of my hard work paid off."

"You think I'd miss this?" Morgan asked incredulously as they pulled apart, "you've been talking my ear off about it for months" They shared a chuckle and he patted her head, "You did great kid, I'm proud of you."

Her smile merely grew, and her eyes lit up at this sentiment, "I'm proud of me too." She said then punctuated it with a sharp nod before catching spencer's as he awkwardly stood by the entrance and picked at the lining of his coat. Nerves were set alight as she met eyes with Morgan once more, and discretely pointed in his direction mouthing, "Is that him?" with a slight giddy smile ghosting across her lips.

Morgan nodded, sporting that same knowing smile from before, "Go get 'im, tiger," he said as he stepped to the side to allow her to pass.

With a steady breath, she wiped her already clammy palms along her tights, and feigned a confident walk in his direction, her nerves still rumbling in her stomach, 'I didn't expect him to be so cute,' she thought to herself, as she stopped before him and slightly waved her hand to get his attention.

"Hi, you must be Spencer," she began, offering an open handshake to him. He startled a bit when he heard her voice, then offered her a small smile as he fumbled his jacket around until he got a hand free to meet hers, "My name is (y/n), Derek has told me so much about you." She finished with an embarrassed chuckle making her cheeks warm.

"Morgan's talked about me?" he responded, surprised and confused as he looked up to Morgan for confirmation, and only getting a thumbs up and an wink before turning his eyes back down to the woman before him.

"Uh-huh," she confirmed, "all good things, don't worry."

He chuckled as he thrust his hand into his pocket, "I would hope so," they shared an awkward smile before their eyes broke as they searched the room for something else to say to each other. "You were amazing tonight." Spencer settled on.

(y/n) giggled a little, bashful that he had noticed her on the stage filled with so many others, "Oh, thanks. I'm sure Derek has talked your ear off about how much I would vent to him after rehearsals."

Spencer sucked in through his teeth and rocked back on his heels, "Oh, yeah, this piece really handed it to you from what I've heard."

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," she responded through rolled eyes and a sigh, "I had to curate an entirely new work ethic for this show...it was worth it though." she added as an afterthought, a light smile rested on her lips.

"Was it?" he asked, a curious wrinkle in his brow.

(y/n)'s smile grew slightly, "Mhm, the exhaustion feels earned rather than expected. It's honestly what keeps me coming back to this stage."

"Earned exhaustion, huh?" He muttered, more to himself than anything, "That's certainly a new description of something that's usually disliked by most."

"I guess I'm not like most people then," she responded, with a shrug, "I'm not saying that I'm in a rush to be tired, but this tiredness is usually a sign of a good show for me. If I'm not tired when I get back, then I didn't give as much to that night's show as I should've."

"Hm, that seems like a pretty harsh rating system."

"Believe me, many of cast mates would disagree," she said, her pushing a tasteless chuckle from her chest, "But the beauty of it is, if I feel I didn't do as good as I should've, I get to come back and do it better the next day."

He matched her smile with intrigue, he had been so oblivious about the vigor of this field, and he'd found himself yearning for more elaboration from (y/n); she seems to talk about it with so much warmth and distant glee in her eyes. And (y/n) found his forward yearning of her daily life so inviting that she would answer any asking question that he threw at her.

"I'm guessing that method only works when you're given the proper chance to rest?" He asked, soft intrigue piercing through her flushed thoughts.

"Oh absolutely," she responded, "I never sacrificed my sleep throughout this entire process; hard work can't really amount to anything if I don't give my body a chance to rest, it'll give out on me," she said with a shadow of dread, as if she had learned that the hard way, "which reminds me that I have to get back home soon."

She drew back from her words with a sorry gaze directed up at him, "I really don't mean to cut this short-"

Her words were sliced with a sharp clap of thunder, followed by rain slapping against the door of the exit. Both of their shoulders jumped at the sound, and soon after, (y/n) slapped her palm against her forehead with a heavy sigh.

Spencer watched this carefully, "You don't have an umbrella, do you?" He asked, to which she shook her head, and began to gnaw on her bottom lip as she thought through her options.

After a moment, Spencer had suddenly remembered the weight of his umbrella in his hand, and in a split second, made the decision to offer, "I could stand outside with you while you wait for a cab; I wouldn't mind."

She smiled, her cheeks growing warm at the thought of being so close to him, "That would be wonderful, but you don't have to, Spencer, I live like ten minutes down the street."

His brows shot up, "So do I." he responded, soft wonder in his voice peppered with nerves, "I, uh, can walk you home if you would like."

"Oh, um, sure." she said, a giddy grin spreading across her cheeks, "I would love that."

As they shrugged their coats onto their shoulders, they shared a rising giddiness in their stomachs at the prospect of being so close to each other under an umbrella, nearly sharing a breath. She didn't miss the shy hand that wrapped around her hip as they exited to the brisk night air, a gentle sheet of rain dribbling down onto them as they fell into step beside one another.

...

"Well, this is me," (y/n) said as they arrived at her apartment building, "Thank you for uh, walking me home." She said sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't too out of your way."

"Of course, and not at all," he responded, shaking out the umbrella and reaching into his pocket for his keys, "I wasn't expecting to be walking myself home too,"

"Oh, this is your apartment building?" She asked incredulously, "Wow, what a wonderful coincidence," she muttered, biting her smile back, "what floor do you live on?"

"Six," he said, as he held the door open for her.

"No way, that's my floor" she muttered, only bearing to look down at her shoes as they approached the elevator, "room number?"

"A5," he said, cautiously.

An airy laugh of disbelief left her lips as the elevator opened for them, "We live across the hall from each other." Her eyes were wide and eager as she stepped into it.

Spencer could only bear to turn to her, as a breath tumbled out of his chest, "You're the voice that I've been hearing," he said, a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"You...can hear when I sing?" She asked, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, before her words began to tumble out of her, "I'm so sorry, I hope I haven't been disturbing you-"

"Oh, no, you've been doing the opposite, honestly," he said, rushed before she shrank back into herself, "I...look forward to hearing your voice from across the hall, i-it's beautiful," his words fell meek and sheepish as he darted his eyes anywhere but hers.

"Really?" She asked shyly, looking up to meet his skittering eyes.

"Yes," he said with a sigh, meeting her wide eyes, "I've...I've been wanting to introduce myself to you for so long."

She giggled and glanced down as the elevator took them to their floor, "Well, I'm glad that Derek has taken care of the hard part for us."

Once the door parted, and the both of them stepped out and made their way to their doors, (y/n) followed the urge to hug him before the night ended; and Spencer was washed in the smell of rain and cherry blossom as she whispered a small good night into his shoulder before entering her room. And for the first time in a long time, Spencer found it within himself to view the coming future with a tentative excitement bubbling in his core.

Can you do the manager hcs that act like Alice Nakiri from SnS for Inarizaki, Shiratorizawa, Fukurodani, and Nekoma? (like she is BEST GIRL; so confident, adorkable, impulsive, carefree, have a mischievous side, has cute bossy tendencies but at the same time she is really caring, polite, and very very rich (she doesn't even know what a Bento is)

Hello my love!! Ahhh I just love receiving asks from you. You're honestly a psychic, I was actually just fangirling over Alice Nakiri when I saw your ask, because I'm on season two of sns.

I have the HUGEST crush on Hayama Akira omg. Definitely my favourite character from the show, his visuals and character are both just god-tier. Who's your favourite male character from the show? I think Akira, Takumi and Isshiki are such cuties. Although Isshiki's fashion sense is just so questionable oml

@k-sakusa-old (I CAN FINALLY TAG YOU IM SO HAPPY!!) ❤️🖤

Rich manager headcanons.

Characters: Inarizaki team, Shiratorizawa team, Fukurodani team, Nekoma team.

Warnings: none :))

Manager preferance: as stated, she's adorable, funny, and rich, and an excellent cook! Has a mischievous side, and a curvaceous and beautiful body with pretty features.

Inarizaki

Ahhh alright, it's my little fox babies!! They see you around school with your best friend pretty often, and they're struck because you look so different.

Like they've honestly never seen anyone like you, with your eyes and hair a different colour, and the way you carry yourself with so much grace and class, yet you also have the cutest expressions.

I think they'd all be subtle simps for you even before getting to know you, because they find your mannerisms really cute.

Definitely push captain Kita to ask you to become their manager.

So you're with your best friend, and you're teasing him (REAL SNS FANS KNOW ALICE IS NEVER WITHOUT RYO) and Kita bows and asks if you would be the manager for their volleyball team.

To vex him further, you tease him before agreeing to help, and he looks relieved, albeit a bit traumatized. He definitely wasn't expecting such a sassy girl.

Kita reports back to the team that you've agreed and will be manager starting tomorrow.

Back at home, you remember Kita's face after teasing him, and you decide to cook the team something as a peace offering, also hoping you'll make a good impression.

You cook them something extremely fancy, using your extensive cooking knowledge and effort, and the end result is something worthy of being served at a high-class restaurant. You go to bed satisfied, after asking the butler to prepare and pack the food for the team at school.

After school the next day, you smile happily with your butler by your side carrying the food you've made.

The entire volleyball team is just ":O"

You smile cheekily and tell them to dig in, introducing yourself as the new manager.

They're in a bit of shock, because they never knew you were; a. Rich, or b. So generous.

Flashing them a gorgeous smile, you crack jokes with them and ask them how they liked the food, later revealing you've cooked it.

The team is just so??? impressed?? Like wow she's so adorable and sassy which kinda makes her hot, and she can cook so well?

Please cue Osamu falling in love as he subtly decides what to name y'alls children.

I mean, a girl who can cook better than he can? He'd be so eager to learn from you and cook together with you, he's already getting dizzy just thinking about it.

Atsumu would probably be pretty whipped too, and not just because of the food (he's such a foodie, that's just a bonus point). He totally thinks any girl who can crack jokes and make him laugh has the key to his heart, and he loves how you're unafraid and mischievous.

As you warm up to them and begin attending their practices daily and getting closer, Aran just starts getting more and more impressed about how funny you can be.

Your antics and pouts totally make him laugh.

Suna probably strikes this relationship with you where he plans pranks and you're just gutsy enough to execute them. You're also more likely to get into trouble but whatever. While he's just recording you from somewhere

So he thinks you're really cool :] and you can really just tease him mercilessly and he wouldn't mind.

Kita just finds you so capable and brilliant, but he's also pretty shy by how confident and cool you are.

I think he'd try his best to talk to you and slowly and eventually form a bond with you based on something you both like.

In general, the team is just constantly in awe of you and they find you so exceptionally cool. Extremely blessed to have you as a manager and can't resist but show you off every single chance they get.

Like "in your face Itachiyama we have this gorgeous queen on our side here, alright?"

And you're loyal to them, trash talking their opponents even better than the Miya twins, yet keeping this innocent smile and façade up which makes the entire teams' hearts just squeeze at how hot you look when you do that.

10/10, Inarizaki adores you.

Shiratorizawa

So this is a school for rich kids, luv I think everyone is rich and unfazed 😭🤚

You become the team's manager because your teacher says it's a "hard position" and "no one has managed to keep it for long" which definitely just fuels your need to be the best at it.

But it doesn't go without careful planning, you wait at the gym to greet the members without revealing yourself as their manager.

You meet Ushijima first, and he's as silent and stoic as ever, which leads you to start teasing him and asking for attention.

Which he doesn't grant you. As you know Ushijima, he's probably gonna get annoyed :(

Ugh farmer boy doesn't know how to loosen up and have fun can someone teach him how to be cool?

So NGL you're a bit disheartened, until you meet your next favourite human being, Tendou Satori.

He just starts cracking jokes and matching your energy pretty well, you guys vibe so well together!!

And you feel like thinks might just be looking up. You plan on telling Tendou you'll be their new manager, when you meet another member of the team.

Goshiki is just a blushing mess when he sees you. I feel like he would not know how to act around girls and his brain just short circuits when he sees someone as BEAUTIFUL as you are.

You probably spot his nosebleed and joke with him, gently wiping his face with a tissue.

Which of course, causes him to faint on the spot, can we get an f in the chat for him?

Tendou helps him up and you're just laughing silently whilst coming face to face with Semi Eita.

So you're totally the type to be vocal about things and if you find someone cute, you aren't beating around the bush, so you're just like “hey I think you're so cute!”

And Semi is just like “omg okay what”

He definitely laughs it off and finds you brave and cool, and you kinda earn his respect for being so straightforward.

And he's pretty happy about the compliment.

You follow them into the gym and introduce yourself as their new manager, and they all promise to work hard and cooperate with you.

You get along well with the whole team, but for some reason, you and Ushijima just don't have the same connection you share with the others.

Like your jokes with Tendou, or your playful and mischievous nature with Semi.

Or even how you tease Goshiki.

You're determined to fix it.

So one day after a match, you round the whole team up and bring them to your house, instructing they wait by the dining table.

And you whip out some really fancy food you've just prepared, calling it a celebration for winning :)

They don't know you've cooked it yet, so you tell them and they're all just so impressed but not surprised, since they know you're capable and amazing at anything you do.

But Ushijima is just like?? Wow??

Because the flavours and way you've prepared the food touches him and he's just so proud to know someone who can make other people happy with their cooking.

And he tells you so, causing you to blush for the first time in your life.

The team is so soft when they see you flustered over something their captain has said, and they're glad you guys are slowly growing closer.

Each of them kiss your forehead and thank you for the meal before heading home, even Ushijima! (Which was super unexpected. You just expected a curt nod of a sort, but he gave you a gentle peck and ruffled you hair)

You smile to yourself because you're finally on good terms with everyone :)

The team totally thinks of you as a little sister, except Goshiki who views you as the coolest senpai ever loves bragging about you to his friends.

[ Ari's note: Nekoma and Fukurodani will be out in a few hours!! I'm sorry I have a deadline to meet for some reports and although I've done my work my club members haven't submitted some stuff yet so I have to wait till they do😭 it's so stressful, but I'm the president and I'll technically be held responsible if this doesn't go well, so uhh wish me luck? 👉👈❤️ Love you guys! Thanks for reading ]

Taglist: @osamusriceballs @k-sakusa-old

Omgggg Sturges and a fem sole with physical prompt #9 PLEASE!! 💖

for someone who loves sturges with all her heart, i don’t write about him enough so when i saw this request, i just HAD to do it. thank you anon, i can finally live in peace now that i wrote a fluffy sturges react. please enjoy! ❤️

lowkey made this crushing AND mutually pining dumbasses.... so 👀

physical prompt #9: “wiping away someone’s tears.”

-

Sturges:

sole had been crying endlessly throughout the day, the world crashing down on her shoulders like a heavy weight that refused to be lifted. she had no idea where it had started nor what caused it, though there were multiple potential factors; lack of sleep/relaxation or her neglecting herself, both mentally and physically, during these hard times.

all of that didn’t matter though as she spilled her tears, shutting everything and anything outside the walls of her bedroom. no matter who checked up on her, she turned them away coldly, not allowing herself to seem vulnerable to anyone.

she just wanted one moment, one day, alone; just to herself where no one else could disturb her with some kind of task. where she could relax and just process her feelings in a healthy manner instead of suppressing it to get things done, yet-

a soft knock rang throughout the quiet room and sole wiped her tears angrily as she responded. “not now, please.” another knock sounded and she nearly snapped, an irritated tone finally escaping.

“i said go away!”

though she instantly regretted the words leaving her mouth as a familiar voice spoke on the other side. “sorry sweetheart, i’ll come back whenever you’re ready.”

“sturges?” sole croaked, staring at the door. quickly, she spoke louder in fear that she had offended him in some way. “sturges, what are you doing here? did you need something?”

silence followed after, but he eventually replied to her question. “er, well, no. just wanted to check up on ya’, i heard you weren’t holdin’ up too well and yknow-“

sole waited patiently for him to finish his sentence as he paused midway, “- to see if you’re okay and whatnot.”

she couldn’t get mad at him, no matter how bad she wanted to. all his intentions were pure and he’s made it very clear to her that all he truly wants is for her to rest and take care above anything. not once has he forced her to do anything nor pushed her past the limits she could handle and always looked out for her health.

in fact, she was absolutely love struck with the handy man, often finding herself fall more in love with him with every single time he popped up.

“yes, i’m fine, sturges. don’t worry.” she tried to choke back the tears that threatened to spill. she knew he wasn’t convinced- sturges isnt stupid enough to let the small details pass by him.

another pregnant pause. “sweetheart, can ya open the door for me, please?”

“sturges, i said im fine-“

“sole, please.” he interjected pleadingly, “let me help ya. i ain’t got no funny tricks up my sleeve or ‘nything. i just want to make sure you’re fine.”

sole sighed and walked over to the door, slowly opening it to find him staring down at her with a concerned expression. his frown immediately turned into a sad smile as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “thank you.”

sole sat back down on the bed and he followed after, crouching in front of her as he placed a hand on her knee. she kept her head down as he tried to observe her face, ashamed that she had been caught crying by the one person she admired.

gently, he tilted her chin up to look up at him and let out a frown as he noticed the puffiness and redness of her eyes, realizing that she might’ve been crying for a while.

“i’m sorry.” was all sole said as he continued to eye her face in devastation, saddened by the fact that she had been alone and he didn’t come sooner. “i’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“don’t be. whenever you’re ready, you know i’m here for you. i always have time to take care of you.”

sole locked eyes with him and felt a swell in her heart as he sent her a smile. he was so sweet; all his words, actions, and behavior towards her only proved it so. he didn’t have to tell her that; she knew. she knew by the way he acted towards her that he always had time no matter what he had planned.

“i know you do. you always do.” she sighed, placing a hand on top of the one that rested on her knee, “i’m not ready to talk about it, yet. eventually i will, but-“

“that’s ‘lright with me. no rush, i can wait for as long as ya need me to.” he reassured her, “just know i’m always one knock away if ya ever need me. even if i’m asleep, i’ll come to you if ya asked.”

sole simply nodded, allowing the tears to flow from her eyes freely without shame. and though she wanted to tell him to go back to his business to not burden him with such a small issue, she couldn’t. now that he was here, she didn’t feel so alone, didn’t feel so weak nor did she feel like she was losing control. instead, she allowed him to stay; to see her weak side and allow herself to be vulnerable for once.

sturges stared up at her with a soft expression, noticing the deafening silence between them. even if she was going through something, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let her go through it alone. he moved closer to her, wanting to wipe those dreadful tears away.

“it’s raining outside, yknow.” he muttered softly as he cupped both her cheeks, wiping away her tears with his thumbs gently. “don’t cry, sweetheart. when you cry, all of heaven cries with you.”

she let out a soft sigh upon his words, leaning into his touch as she sent him a teary smile. he smiled back at her, continuing to brush away the tears that fell from her face.

“you’re never alone, sole. not when you still got good ol’ sturges around.” he comforted her, “i’ll take care of ya till you get sick of me.”

she shook her head as she placed a hand on top of the one that rested on her cheek.

“i’ll never get sick of you.”

he let out a small and gentle laugh. “good.”

Alrighty then. So Michael and Danny with a s/o or just a survivor that’s caught their interest that’s clearly favored by the entity (most likely due to excellent performance but could be bc of personality). Example: they more often they get better sacrifices or personal effects as a comfort. But they share their stuff with the others because they like helping

heyy! thank you for the request!

with this one i decided to make the S/O a killer cause i feel that would create the most conflict :) hope that’s ok<3 editt; i realize after writing it that i forgot you included “shares with others” T_T im so sorry

ok so when you say ‘favored because of personality’ I’m going to assume it refers to the reader willingness to obey the Entity and kill without question

ghostface is below the cut. also he's pretty NSFW

HeadCanons for The Shape (Michael Myers) and The Ghostface (Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson) with an Entity-favored killer! S/O

The Shape (Michael Myers)

It’s customary when a new killer arrives in the Fog, for them to be favored by the Entity. Their unique way of torturing and killing bringing new flavors of fear for the master leaving the other killers on the sidelines. However, when the excitement dies and the dust settles, the attention shifts back to the usual favorites. What confused Michael about you the most was that there was a consistent liking on you that maintained itself and grew even after your initial arrival. There was always a big eye watching you from the sky, a large red sign on your back that the Entity never stopped searching for. There was no denying that even after making yourself home among the Fog that the Entity still liked you.

Michael has never been the favorite. If anything, he’s one of the more disliked killers. That doesn’t mean he’s bad a killing, oh no. Just, in relation to how the Entity wants Its kills to be presented, Michael a bit of an under-achiever. He doesn’t do want is expected of him, he just kills. And that puts him on the boss’s F-tier. So when you show up and immediately get on the Entity’s good side, Michael is skeptical. But not jealous. He’ll just wait and watch as the spotlight shifts away and you lose your shine.

When time passes and you remain as attentive as ever Michael begins to get suspicious. What exactly made you so special? Did you have an ability that was interesting? Or was there something else? Whatever it was, Michael didn’t have to ponder it for too long because one night when he returned to his realm after a long day's work, he found you standing in the middle of the street waiting for him. You explained that you were sent there by the master to help “guide” Michael to become a more efficient and better killer. You couldn’t see it but Michael was furious.

Michael resented you. Every night you would be there, buzzing around him like an annoying fly. He once tried to chase you away, raising his arm in an aggressive gesture only for you to scoff halfheartedly, “You call that a lunge?” Oh right, you were a killer as well. After intimidation didn’t work, he resorted to throwing endless a hissy fits (consisting of him crossing his arms and angrily stomping away from you). You’d have to chase him lecturing him as you did, explaining that if Michael wanted the approval of the Entity he needed to listen to you. Of course, he didn’t.

“You are such a brat you know that?” Michael cocked his head, a sign of his so-called brattiness. He let out a loud huff and turned his nose up. You gasp. “How DARE you!” He huffed again as if testing your authority. He could be such a child.

Eventually, when it became clear that the nail wasn’t being hammered into his thick skull, you gave up on the man. You stopped pestering him, stopped showing up, and threw in the metaphorical towel. With you gone his world feel to silence, only the flickering of red and blue lights moved in the space around him. He felt... empty? Like something was missing. Almost as if on autopilot he looked to his left and surprising saw nobody there. He had grown used to seeing your smaller form next to his. So pristine, always talking with authority and determination. You were skilled, precise, and managed, he actually found himself missing the way you annoyed him. He missed your noise.

Without really trying, Michael started performing even worse in trials. Sometimes he would kill them all within minutes not even offering them a chance to escape or fight back. And other times he wouldn’t even try, deliberately losing chases and allowing the survivors to escape scott-free. And it’s not as if the Entity could punish Michael like it did the others; Michael didn't fear pain nor did he have any emotional attachments of which could be manipulated. The Entity had no way of twisting his arm. As a last resort, you were sent back to try deal with him.

He watched you casually stroll up to him, your arms crossed over your chest like a scolding teacher. When you reached him you shook your head. “You did that on purpose.” Tapping a foot in annoyance you waited for a nonexistent explanation. He just looked at you, eyes taking in your form, eating it up like a starved dog. After you realized that the man wasn’t going to bother with any type of apology or declaration, you sighed and lowered your hands. “Y’know there’s an easier way to keep me around.” He shuddered at your voice but showed no signs of irritation, it was as if he liked hearing you speak in such a tone to him. “Just, promise me you’ll try not to get on Its bad side anymore. At least for me.” Michael considered your proposition for a moment then turned and started to walk away. When he noticed you weren’t following him, he hesitated. He actually waited for you. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

The Ghostface (Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson)

Danny would definitely be jealous of your attention. Expect long, hateful glares and snide comments. How is it that you had all the entity’s blessings whereas he, a willing participant received none of your praise? He never felt so cheated as he did every time you would return from a successful trial, dressed in the blessings of your victory. He’d hate you.

Of course, Danny would never really show it. Sure, he’d let you pick up on the side-ward scowls and sometimes hear the odd slur but he always hid his true feelings and thoughts. However, his hubris made him believe his acting skills were better than they were you were that man's kryptonite, his weakness. Eventually, things started to slip through the cracks and you could see how much you burned him inside.

It became something of a game between the two of you. You would come back from a trial and while passing him, boast about your kills. “All dead. Merciless.” You sarcastically flip a hand through imaginary hair, passing him a teasing eye over your shoulder before strutting off. You’d leave him fuming. Next time he would return, Danny would approach you twirling a bloody, still-dripping knife. He’d smirk under his mask knowing full well your attention was glued to him. “Dead. Everyone last one of them.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, chest puffed out with vicious pride. “Did you use Hex: NoED though?” He paused. How did you know that? At his sudden stupor, you knew you had struck a nerve. Grinning manically you regain your no.1 killer status. “The Entity says that all the struggling killers use that perk.” You emphasize the ‘struggling’ part by curling your fingers and showing off your best shit-eating smile. Danny’s fist shook with rage. “I’m allowed to use whatever Hex I want. If the Entity,” he spat the master’s label with disgust, “didn’t want it to be used, it should be removed.” You crossed your arms and gave the killer a ‘really?’ look. He growled and began to trudge away. As if poking the bear you offer him one last piece of advice, “You already have an insta-down ability, Danny. Use it!”

It would take a while for his pride to mend after that instance but after it did, Danny set to work. He tried beyond anything to beat you, competing for the Entity’s favor. Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like to an outsider. What the man was really desiring was to become the top dog. Become better than you and make you eat your words. He’ll show you ‘struggling’.  As much as he hated to admit it, he often found himself following your advice. He never camped hooked survivors, rarely tunneled, and became the master of his stealth. You were a positive influence on him and his work ethics, it was no longer just about killing it was more about HOW he killed.

He would never EVER admit how you effected him. But you would notice the improvement. The eye of the Entity now had two flickers of interest and it couldn't be more impressed. You certainly were an effective killer, not just in the field but also on your peers. And because of this fact, you always remained the favorite.

Danny witnessed this inherent bias and while his blood boiled, he decided it would be better to make peace rather than enemies. "So," Danny put a gloved hand on his hip having finally cornered you in a private moment. "How do you do it?" At your confused expression, he chuckled shaking his head dismissively. "The Boss. How do you keep its favor? I mean, if you haven't noticed," Danny said, fixing a glove. "I've been performing exceptionally well in my trials. Yet the attention is always fixed on you." A smile crept across your lips. Something was different about the man. He didn't portray a total and complete aura of dislike towards you. There was something else there. Admiration? Desire? Whatever it was, it felt nice to be showered by it. You shrugged your answer unsure of how exactly to respond. "Shit then," Danny said, shaking his head again and letting out an airy laugh. "You must give awesome blowjobs."

NSFW! The new game the two of you had adopted was a more friendly competition than the previous hate-filled pissing contest. The rules were simple, whoever returned from their trials with the most merciless titles got to top. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. And to be honest, while Danny does enjoy the added bonus of bragging rights, regardless of if he won or not he always had fun in whatever position. He secretly likes watching you take control over him. 

I hit some major missing Helena Klein hours the other day so I decided to replay her route. I’m on season 4 and can someone smarter than me explain why Helen’s death, a character we never technically meet, hits so damn hard.

That message sent before I could finish typing. The other part of that was, I know why Helen’s death hurts, like I can feel it, but can’t verbalize it, you know what I mean?

i do absolutely get what you mean about the difficulty verbalizing exactly what it is about helen's death that hits so hard. im not sure if this was a real request for me to try a hand at explaining it, but this ask got me thinking and (more importantly for all my attempts at words) feeling, so these are my thoughts on it, at least. beware: this is really fucking long.

i mean... first off... it's wild, isn't it? that a character that we never knew alive can inspire such an acute feeling of loss in us. but she does. even thinking about it now makes me sad. it's skillful, and well done. season 4 would not have been as impactful as it was if the character helena spent the majority of the time mourning was not someone we as readers were also upset about.

the reasons that exist for me on a sort of surface level, those i recognize as factors but are still less interesting and compelling to me, are 1) helena herself is devastated by this loss, and those that love her will always feel some of what she's feeling as we go on that journey with her and 2) helen was genuinely good, and the death of any character we know is doing so right by the people around them is always bound to be something tragic and heartbreaking.

now, there are a few other reasons for it that i find more influential (and impressive), but they're more complex ideas and kind of wrapped up in one another so bear with me.

thematically, season 4 exists as a moment in helena's story where she, mc, and the reader are confronted face to face with concepts that before only existed as an undercurrent, as questions that don't get asked out loud because we're not sure they're "good" questions. "what if helena had a clean slate?" "what would it be like if helena's mind was unburdened?" "what if helena never met the witch queen at all?" "what if there was a place where helena was out of reach from all that haunts her?"

and we see all of those hypothetical scenarios play out right there on our screens. and the answers to those questions? they're fucking heartbreaking. and uncomfortable. and so, so necessary.

first, helena's amnesia creates a circumstance in which she really doesn't remember everything awful that's ever happened to her. and, wait, maybe... maybe things are better for her this way! she sleeps without nightmares. she's good! she smiles and she learns and she walks through streets without paranoia.

but she's... still carrying some of it with her. it lives in her body. so deep inside her mind that she can know nothing about herself and still instinctively know that the cold is something bad to her. it's as close as she could ever possibly come to that clean slate, that feeling of being unburdened. but it's not peace to her; she's not any more whole just because she can't remember the things that have broken her. that sense of peace she seeks can't come in the form of simply not knowing.

and that sucks! it's sad as hell! a solution that's perfect on paper, yet one that everyone on this ride now needs to step away and move on from because it's not real, and maybe that's okay.

so helena, mc, and us as readers move on. not for long though! because in comes the dopplegangers. because in comes the literal embodiments of our cast in an untouched-by-witch-queen state.

in comes helen.

she's wonderful. well-loved. successful. healing. dedicating her life to helping people through the worst moments of their lives.

she's everything.

she's every single thing helena's ever hoped she could be had her circumstances been different; every single thing we've wondered if helena would be if she could exist away from her demons.

and she's dead. murdered. by none other than the witch queen.

when the witch queen kills helen, she doesn't just kill helen. when helena, and we as people on this journey with her, experience the loss of helen, we're not just mourning for helen. helen's death is so much less about her dying than it is about the fantasy she represents being struck down permanently.

a version of helena untouched by the witch queen does not exist. a version of helena that never experienced and inflicted terrible evils does not exist. that person is dead, she's unreachable, she's never really real.

that moment we call season 4 is an awakening of sorts. one that's really, really hard. absolutely fucking sad. almost unbearably uncomfortable.

but it's the truth and it's needed.

because there are no perfect solutions. there are no ideal circumstances in which trauma and history can be erased. and even if there was, that's not what healing is.

helen's death hurts because with it comes the loss of an idea that feels really, really good. but that loss also inspires the single most important decision helena makes in the whole route. it's only after letting go of those fantasies, in getting the answers to those "what if" questions, that helena chooses to fight. to heal. to do the right thing.

that's why helen's death hits so hard. that's why season 4 is one of the seasons of hers i find myself returning to emotionally and mentally most often.

and that's why the chicago ending the the stupidest shit i've ever read in my life and the grossest bastardization of a character arc to date.

The second in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian.

Spring Thaw

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.

No- he was definitely getting ahead of himself.

At the very least, Dorian shouldn't have discarded the Venatori's equipment so impulsively. It was possible- even likely- the Herald would be immune to his charms. If no attraction existed between them to start with, then he'd forsaken his current, sole employment for nothing.

Introducing himself was also a complex matter. His subject of fixation was more often than not swarmed by Chantry puppets- Inquisition puppets, whatever.

Either way, they'd be wary of something like him.

  Which would be perfectly sensible, if we're being honest...

For days he stalked them through the Hinterlands, camping out of sight- preferably at high vantage points. On this occasion he'd discovered a homely cave dug into a cliff, with an ideal view of the Inquisition camp. They'd organised around a half-crumbled tower, wrangling full command of the King's Road at this end.

It took time to accomplish- Dorian had spectated most of the work. The Templar-Mage conflict was their main concern- by now almost completely eliminated. Still there was plenty of trouble to be had, Dorian knew.

  Are they even aware of the Venatori yet?

Indeed for now they mostly focused on the resident lyrium-smugglers. To be fair, they were a nuisance- and had not enough sense to leave the Inquisition unmolested.

In his shadowing he concluded a few things, at least.

For one, the Herald was a mage with an affinity for ice. Admittedly Dorian felt stupid for not realising on their first encounter. That sword of light channelled the man's will, swaying him towards close combat. Odd for a mage- so Dorian didn't berate himself much for failing to notice.

Secondly, the man was Spirit-bound. To what sort of spirit and for what purpose, Dorian couldn't guess. He'd only concluded this due to a chance look at his weapon- a summoning circle was inscribed into the hilt. An insanely reckless thing to attempt- unless your will and the spirit's could work in perfect unison.

  We have something in common, at least!

Though Dorian was positive none regarded him as an Abomination.

Lastly, the Herald was unaccustomed to such close work with humans. Dorian rarely overheard conversation but frequently witnessed him seeming lost, needing elaboration on what appeared self-evident.

Overall he was somewhat peculiar, even for an elf.

  “You know...” Dorian mused while building a small fire for the night. “I'm already feeling chipper. It's probably a trick of the mind, since there's potential for a meal...but wouldn't it be funny if my desire was feeding into itself?”

An unamused grumble responded and he frowned at his shadow- slumped morosely against the cave entrance, like a wrung out towel.

  “Yes, yes, I know that's not how it works.” Dorian rebuffed, scowling. “I'm just saying I don't mind all this creeping around! Or I don't mind it yet...give it a while, I suppose...”

  The Herald of Andraste...

  …probably also does not speak to himself.

  “Well I'm not speaking to myself, am I?!” He countered, huffing. “I'm speaking to you!- And you're being especially bratty today!”

Desire slouched down the cliff-wall until it was almost flat.

Dorian spluttered with laughter.

  “You're like a cat, you know!? An ominous, perverted cat.”

The creature bubbled sadly, giving no answer.

Rolling his eyes, Dorian would have returned to working on the fire- except Desire's head emerged from it's puddle, leering down the slope.

  “Hrm...?” He followed it's gaze, squinting. “Something happening down there...?”

A tall figure wandering from camp, accompanied by a much shorter one- the Herald and his dwarf ally.

  “Where are they wandering off to on their own...?” He frowned at his shadow. “Should they really be doing that?”

Desire shrugged, shoulders casting ripples along it's spooled form.

  “For some reason...” Dorian swiped his staff from nearby. “I don't like it. Let's make sure nothing bothers them, yes?”

Maker forbid the elf get himself killed- it would be a waste of his whole week!

The pair strode upon the King's Road, moonlight leading their path and their path leading Dorian- always close behind but not too close. Eventually they paused at a road-marker, muttered between themselves and appeared to wait.

  Are they missing one of their people, or something..?

Regardless of the situation, whatever was meant to occur, didn't. Exchanging anxious stares, the duo walked further along, ignorant to Dorian's presence as he slunk from shadow to shadow.

Within minutes all heard the same thuggish shouting- accented in Ferelden, somewhere amidst an outcrop of limestone. Sprinting forward, the Herald and his companion hunched behind cover, in frantic discussion.

Wanting a full perspective, Dorian climbed ledges as stealthily as possible. Once he had an ideal view, he sat and assessed.

Lyrium-smugglers again, of course. Carta, perhaps? No one Dorian had ties with, whoever they were. More than a dozen- with enough heavies in their ranks to pose serious threat to a miniscule party.

A party of two, for example, would likely be obliterated.

Dorian could see why there was discourse between the Herald and his friend. An Inquisition scout knelt among the group, bleeding and mid-interrogation.

  So they did lose someone...

Now the Herald wished to attempt rescue and his companion reasonably disagreed. Even out of earshot, Dorian could tell who was winning- through pure stubbornness alone.

Glancing behind, he spotted that looming, bratty shadow of his.

  “I hope you're ready to actually work for your meal.”

Not a second passed after his speech before all erupted into chaos. The Herald careened through the group, carried along paves of ice. Flailing and visibly irritated, the dwarf scrambled onto a high-point, where he could launch arrows from some elaborate crossbow.

Skidding from his perch, Dorian leapt into the fray.

Blood had already touched ground- that didn't bode well for anything near him. The grinning skull of his staff raised high, he willed every drop of lost life into himself. It swirled around him in crimson ribbons- he hadn't even channelled a form before people screamed.

  “MALEFICAR!”

Earning a wild, blood-crazed laugh from him as he barrelled forth, slicing enemies with their own pain- weaponised. Anyone struck deep enough and lacking proper resistance became crazed, attacking all in their proximity.

It had been a while since he'd stretched his abilities for combat- quite invigorating, really! Not to mention all the blood- a fair snack, though not his usual preference. Licking some from his fingers, Dorian launched into another attack and found himself brushing passed blizzard.

Swivelling to face it, he bore his teeth in a personable manner.

Winter-touched eyes regarded him quizzically, then vanished into battle.

Moments later and it was done- together with the scout, their enemy was reduced to a pile of corpses.

Inhaling, Dorian glimpsed the dwarf and recruit in breathless conversation. Elsewhere stood the Herald- sheathing his weapon, sighing with relief.

  Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk.

  Maker, stop it! Yes, I see.

This was the closest opportunity he was chance to get.

Awkwardly, uncharacteristically- Dorian hesitated.

  TALK-TALK-TALK-T

  I SAID STOP THAT! I'M GOING!

Mustering composure, he sauntered that direction, beaming.

  “Greetings, friend!”

The Herald blinked from wiping stained hands, eyes widening a second later.

  “...Who are you?” He mumbled, automatically hunching to Dorian's level- as he'd witnessed many times.

  “Me?”  He laughed airily- had to restrain more when the elf flinched. “My name is Dorian Pavus...and you would be the Herald of Andraste, no?”

Much hesitation from this so-called Herald- the poor man's eyes darted as if seeking attendance, white complexion reddening. Effortless traits for human eyes to see- and then there were aspects only Dorian would see. A quickened pulse, hitched breath, heightened temperature...

  Well, that answers that question...

  But...I really didn't intend to give the poor fool a heart-attack.

He hadn't even exercised his will in any fashion- just introduced himself! The Herald's clan must have been terribly isolationist, if that's all it took to fluster him.

  “That...is what they say...” He managed after a long pause, brow furrowing. “...Have you been following me, Dorian Pavus?”

  Oh, I like that.

  So formal.

  “Only for your own protection, my darling Herald!” He chuckled warmly, gestured to their fallen opponents. “As you can so clearly see.”

Another drawn out silence, pale features struggling to stay that way and failing- pink had spread to his neck.

  “You are from Tevinter.” He observed clumsily.

Dorian's head tilted.

  “Nothing gets passed you, does it?”

The Herald didn't seem to know how to respond, grasping air dumbly and again searching around for aid. Deciding to provide such aid, Dorian inquired;

  “Since I gave you my name- may I have yours?”

Though fidgeting, he offered;

  “Lavellan.”

  “That would be a last name, no?”

  “I do not tend to give my first.”

  “You don't 'tend to'...” He smiled, shamelessly familiar. “So you might make an exception?”

Something about this caught the elf off guard- absolutely flushed. He merely stared as though Dorian proposed he strip to his undergarments.

  “Uhh...hey, there.” The dwarf ambled to them before Lavellan could recover.

  “Ah, hello!” Determined to make a good impression, Dorian stuck out his hand. “Dorian Pavus! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

The Dwarf relented to a light shake, inspecting him doubtfully.

  “Varric Tethras- pleased to make yours..” He knit his brow, glanced between the two men. “...I guess.”

All the while Lavellan was statuesque, face crimson and attention flying everywhere.

  “...You okay, Lord Heraldness?”

  “I...am fine- I am fine.” He practically squeaked. “I think...Cassandra will wish us back at camp...right now...im...immediately.”

Incapable of restraining himself, Dorian roared with mirth and hoped it didn't sound unkind.

  “We'll talk soon, my dear Herald.” He bid farewell with more obvious warmth. Lavellan swiftly fled- half-marching, half-scurrying, Varric at his heels.

-–

Dirt and blood raced beneath his feet. Evallan Lavellan fought to correct the hue of his face.

  “...Are you okay?” Varric- barely audible above the sound of his heartbeat.

  “I am fine!”  He snapped, shrill. “I just...was not prepared for...for that.”

Varric's expression scrunched inwards, perplexed.

  “Prepared for what?”

Speech died on Evallan's tongue, frowning helplessly at his companion. He barely had the words in his own language, how could he explain with the vocabulary they both shared?

All the human mages he'd encountered- they were so reserved, tame.

He couldn't imagine any human to carry themselves so shamelessly- draped in blood and bone, cackling and grinning through danger. Formidable yet exercising flawless control- so at ease in his nature.

And Mythal have mercy- Those eyes- deadly flares of red and gold.

  Absolutely wild.

  He must be mad.

  “...Oh, Maker's breath, Herald...” Evallan became aware he'd been glaring into space. “Don't worry- I won't tell anyone you took one look at the weirdo-'Vint-blood-mage and turned into a tomato.”

He flushed every shade of red imaginable, snapping-

  “I said I was not prepared!”

  “I wasn't prepared either!” Varric chortled. “And I do not look like you do right now!”

Groaning, Evallan sped his pace, wishing for nothing more than to hide in his tent and scream until humiliation subsided.

compulsion, n;

an irrational need or irresistible urge to perform some action, often despite negative consequences

pt. 8 / ? [ prev / next / masterlist ]

A/N: I listened to Billie Eilish’s “don’t smile at me” album while writing this, if you know it then you know what kind of vibe this part will have sidenote help im super soft okay help i felt like the fic needed this

Word Count: 1,9k

It’s been five hours. The clock ticked close to midnight, yet you were wide awake, worrying sick about the person who had been unconscious for five freaking hours. You found yourself checking his breathing constantly, making sure he was still … there. When he passed out, you had cried as you moved him from your arms and the floor onto the couch, making sure he was laid as comfortable as possible. You had attempted to get in contact with him several times, concluding that it was no use and that he just needed to wake up in his own time. Considering the pain he had gone through earlier, you imagined his body must have been incredibly drained and that he needed the rest anyways. But you were unable to make yourself calm, only pacing back and forth in the living room, or sitting down on the ground next to him and hoping to see some signs of consciousness. There were no other thoughts in your head, you ignored buzzes from your phone and the growling of hunger from your stomach. This felt more important.

You sat with your back against the lower part of the couch, staring mindlessly as the clock on the wall struck 12. A couple of seconds later, you felt movement behind your head, and heard a slight grunt of discomfort. Quickly turning around, you saw Seonghwa’s face scrunching up before his eyes fluttered open. They stared right at you, sending a strike of relief through your body.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You asked carefully, afraid to speak too loud in case his head was hurting. Seonghwa shifted, trying to get into a seated position, but was stopped by his own body and fell back down.

“Like shit.” He said with a hoarse voice. Hesitantly, you reached out your hand and started stroking his hair. It seemed to be taken with pleasure as he closed his eyes and started humming at the sensation.

“That feels nice.” He whispered. You kept petting his head for a while, running your thumb ever so gently over his temple.

“What happened?” You tried, your head now leaning on the couch, scarily close to him.

“I’m on timeout.” He answered.

“What does that mean?”

He opened his eyes again, and you moved back slightly, scared if he didn’t want your face so close to his own.

“No, look.” He encouraged you to come close again, looking right at you. You studied his face, taking notice of something you have reacted to earlier – how his eyes had pigment in them. The standing lamp beside the couch illuminated them so beautifully, really brightening the dark brown colour.

“Did they make you … human?” You questioned. Seonghwa made a second attempt on getting up, succeeding this time. He propped his elbows on his legs and supported his head in his hands.

“It’s been so long since last time, I don’t know how you guys handle this – all these senses being forced to operate at the same time, seems unnecessary.” He complained. You got up from the floor and sat down next to him.

“How long will you stay like this?”

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of days, a week, a month. It’s not up to me to decide.” He said. The two of you sat in silence for a while. You were unsure how to react, what to do. How does one handle a demon whose been forced to live like a human punishment. Your trail of thought was broken by a groan coming from the boy beside you, accompanied by him clutching his stomach.

“Aah, right, hunger is a thing I have to deal with now.” He quickly realised. You couldn’t help but laughing slightly at his reaction to the most basic human need.

“Do you guys not eat at all?” You asked him, making him shake his head. You noticed that he had a small smile painted on his face.

“We just, you know, drain souls every once in a while for strength.” He told you, lifting his stare to catch your reaction, then giggling once he noticed how you scrunched your nose in minor disgust.

“Okay, you know what, I don’t want to hear about that right now. Shall we make something to eat instead?” You proposed. Seonghwa nodded at your idea, getting up with you. As he stood up, he stumbled instantly, and you instinctively grabbed his arms to help him keep his balance.

“Careful, you can’t just magically heal if you hurt yourself now.” He scoffed at your joke but followed with you to the kitchen area on the other side of the room.

 “I think I have all the ingredients for a nice pizza.” You suggested. Seonghwa didn’t react to your words, he was too busy holding his hands under the water that was running from the faucet.

“What- are you doing?” You asked him.

“Cold.” He said, still looking at the water. You walked over, turning off the faucet. Grabbing his hands, you felt they were indeed, ice cold.

“Why did you do that?” You were genuinely confused at his actions. His hands were so cold that you wondered if there was any feeling left in them.

“Here, put them inside my sleeves.” You commanded, and Seonghwa gave you a slightly confused look, yet did as you said. You hissed slightly at his cool hands wrapping around your wrists. He nodded to himself.

“What?” You asked.

“Warm.” He said. You shook your head and sighed but couldn’t help but finding his way of acting quite amusing.

“You’re like a lost puppy.” You told him. He gave you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry.” Words you never thought you would ever hear from this man.

“No no, it’s okay … it’s kind of cute.” You stated, not really feeling frightened by him anymore. He seemed so helpless, and even though he had put you in horrible situations, he had gotten you out of them every time – and never hurt you personally. Seonghwa slowly removed his hands from inside of your sleeves, yet held onto one of your wrists still, the one that had his initials.

“Feels strange that this is purposeless right now.” He admitted.

“I know, but it will regain its purpose again though.”

“Maybe.” His expression got slightly dark again.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s focus on eating.” He brushed off your question and let go of your hand, shifting his attention towards the things you had laid out on the kitchen counter.

 …

 You carefully watch as Seonghwa takes his first bite out of the pizza you made together. During the process, the poor boy had burned his hands on three different spots on the stove and taking while the pizza out of the oven. Because of this, three pauses were needed to run his hands under cold water, putting on some treatment and wrapping him up to relieve the pain.

“Wow, this is amazing!” Seonghwa’s eyes lit up with excitement and quickly took a second bite of his slice. You had made an executive decision, which was to let the pizza rest for 15 minutes before you started eating, being scared that Seonghwa would act recklessly again burn the roof of his mouth on the hot cheese. The time was currently 1:34am, and you found your eyes having a hard time staying open as you ate.

 “Hey.” You woke up from a finger tapping repeatedly on your head. When you opened your eyes, you noticed that almost the whole pizza was gone, while you had only had a single slice before you fell asleep at the table. Seonghwa looked at you with his head tilted so that it was in the same angle as yours. This time he resembled a small kitten, waiting for their owner to give them attention.

“You really need to sleep. Maybe I should leave.” He said, his voice slightly shaky.

“What? No, you can’t leave – what if all the big, bad demons get you?” You joked, lifting your head and rubbing your eyes. Seonghwa chuckled at your comment.

“Really sounds like you want to keep me here.” He placed his elbow on the table, and his chin on his hand while looking at you.

“I have more human things to re-teach you. Have you seen the burns on your hands?” Seonghwa turned his attention towards the several spots on his hands and fingers that were wrapped in bandage, shrugging and then nodding.

“You’ve got a point. I’ll take the couch then.” There was a silence for a couple of seconds.

“I mean, my bed is large, so there’s space for two. And it’s more comfortable, but yeah sure, you can sleep on the couch if you want.” The two of you almost mirrored each other’s actions, both smiling awkwardly and looking down, not daring to make eye contact.

“Yeah, the couch should be … fine.”

 …

 You weren’t sure what time it was when the door to your bedroom let in the some light from the hallway, but it closed just as quickly and quietly as it opened. Your eyes flickered up, noticing Seonghwa entering the room. He squatted down by your bedside table, his face levelling with yours in a similar way as you had with him hours earlier by the couch.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“Hi.” His mouth opened to say something more but closed again and his eyes shifted away from yours.

“Everything okay?” You tried, leaning your head a bit to attempt making eye contact with him.

“I feel-“ He started, still struggling to look your way. Once again, you went to stroke his hair, attempting to offer comfort, encouraging him to go on.

“Fear.” He said, finally meeting your gaze. It almost looked like he was about to cry, as his eyes were visibly watery - even in the dim moonlight seeping through the gaps of the curtains.

“Come on.” You said, lifting your cover for him to join you. You noticed hesitation in his face, yet he carefully got up from the floor, climbing into bed and under the covers with you. For a while, you lied facing each other. You spoke no words, the only sound heard being the faint wind outside. Your hand kept going through his hair, occasionally coming down to his face as well. One time, you felt him leaning into your touch as you cupped his cheek. Barely, you could see that his eyes were closed, but you felt a single, warm tear against your hand.

You then moved so that you were lying on your back, never really letting your hand leave his face.

“Come.” You proposed, gently tugging on Seonghwa’s body, making him lie on top of you. His head was now resting on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him, not forgetting to return one of your hands to his hair. It seemed to you that it gave him a sense of safety when you touched him like that, and it was confirmed further now as you felt more hot tears hitting your chest. Eventually though, they stopped, and you felt the boy on top of you breathing calmly and steadily. With this, you found your heart becoming peaceful, drifting back to sleep.  

The Bear Or The Deer

Fandom: Frankenstein Character: Adam/Frankenstein’s monster Relationship: Adam/reader Request: you do a lot of horror and I was just wondering on the off chance: would you do Frankenstein’s monster x reader? AN: Frankenstein is my favourite book! Since, in the book the creature calls himself Adam, I decided to stick with that as his name. also, this’ll probably be a multi-chapter thing as I cant wait to explore more plot with him

 Sitting in your home on a stormy night, in the pitch black, waiting by a window was never something you thought you would ever have to do. But after the last few months, you needed to know. You had to. Something was happening and you didn’t know or understand it. People had reported a monster in the woods that surrounded your home, yet you had had little cause to be frightened. In fact, the only thing that truly scared you about it was not knowing what it was. You had never felt exposed or unsafe in your home. It was about a mile out from the nearest town, and just off a trail that only had one or two horse and carts pass by ever week. You were mostly self sufficient, growing your own vegetables and fruit in your large garden and a few animals such as cow and a few chickens along with your trusted horse. You traded in town with your craft work, using your love for paints, crafting and even mending things. Often, the butcher, who has a young family, will ask you for new clothes and such in exchange for meat. You would sell your art to passing traders and do the occasional jobs for everyone else in the town in exchange for whatever you needed. But it was still hard work. Your home and its surroundings needed a lot of tending to. Only, you had noticed something strange over the last little while. Your log pile, which you kept outside next to the small bard, was kept topped up. Then apples started being left on your back porch every morning, along with oranges and any other fuits. As time grew on, you grew uneasy. You tried leaving out food and some blankets and such, in hope that whoever it is was just looking to trade. But they never took anything. And then the rumours started in town. A beast, like a bear, stalking the forest. A few had seen it moving about, but none dared approach it. It had to be human-like, judging but its knowledge of cutting wood and such, but where did it live? Was it close to you? Tonight, you planned on seeing it for yourself. You had left out a large basket of food for it. Cheeses, hams, a bottle of milk and some eggs, in hopes that it would take it. You sat to the side of one of your kitchen windows, which was close to the back door where the thing sometimes left fruit. You hoped it would see the basket when placing the logs on the pile and come to investigate. You had nearly drifted off when a crash of thunder woke you, making you jump as you sat straight up. Looking out the window, you noticed how the moon was nearly fully covered by clouds, the only light now came from the soft glow of your living room, where you always kept the fire going to heat the house and the small light of the full moon that peaked through the clouds. Another few lightening strikes and crashes of thunder kept you alert. Until you saw the creature. It emerged from the forest like a it might have been a tree itself, judging but the stature. In the rain, it was bend over, walking on two legs with a long cloak drawn over its body. It was human, and judging by the stature, probably male. It, he, carried logs against his chest, only pulling back his cloak to place them onto the pile carefully. He was soaked to the bone, you could see that, and yet he was more concerned with make sure the balance of the pile was right. His face was hidden by the hood, but you saw he had noticed the basket, which was still dry thanks to the porches roof and the wind that blew the rain in the opposite direction. He walked to the porch, placing his foot on the bottom of the three steps, his whole body seeming to tilt to the side in curiosity. He looked up towards the top floor of the house, where he probably thought you were fast asleep. You saw him place his hand up to his chest and he gave a small bow to your house, before retreating without the basket. You were stunned, shocked and so confused. What was he? Why did he do these things for you? Why would he be out in such weather? Where was his family? It was curiosity that lead you to spring up from your seat and run to the back door as a crash of thunder masked you opening the door. “Wait!” You called out, scooping the basket up by the handle. The figure froze, his entire body seeming to turn to rock at the sound of your voice. You took a few more steps out, not daring to descend the steps into the rain just yet. You wanted to keep the food dry. “Please, will you take this?” You asked, hoping your question would draw some kind of response out of him. Which it did. He turned, but in a strange kind of way. His lower half turned a quarter of the way towards you while the top half twisted fully, keeping his head low and covered by the hood. It was very unnerving to watch, and reminded you that something just wasn’t quite right about him. “For helping me. I want you to have it.” You manage to speak, keeping the fear from affecting your voice.   A crash of lightening followed by a roll of thunder as if showing some kind of inner battle the man was obviously having with himself. You were just a woman, alone in your home. He had no reason to fear you. You had no weapons, nor was there anyone close by who would be able to help you. If anything, you should be scared of him. But something was different about him. “Please.” You repeated, keeping your voice soft. This seemed to be enough to persuade him back to you, approaching you in such a manner that reminded you of a stray dog approaching a human who had offered it food. It wanted the food, yes, but it was scared of the hand that gave it. As he reached the bottom of the small set of stairs, you couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by him. Even with you at the top stair, he was taller. The light from the house didn’t give you enough light to see his face. Holding out the basket, you smiled. He hesitated, but raised his right hand to take the basket. As he did so, the sleeve fell back, revealing a wrist with a deep scar running around the wrist and down beneath his sleeve. The flesh itself was a little… off in colour. But the scar looked painful. You couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips as you looked up at him. At the wrong time. A bolt of lightening lit up the sky and, for the first time, you saw his face. A gaunt face looked back at you. Thin lips with barely any colour behind them were opened slightly in surprise. His cheeks bones were prominent, and his skin the same as his hand, looking slightly off and discoloured. His nose was missing, and chunk and several scars ran across this face, almost like a doll that had been ripped apart and sow back together again. But his eyes. They were a yellowish colour, with the left one having another scar running from the bottom of his eye right down his cheek to his jaw. They were wide, surprised, like a deep that had been scared by the sudden attack of a bear. How quickly your metaphor for him had changed, from a bear to a deer. He seemed terrified of you. Yet he could easily turn on you and you were very aware of that fact.   But as quickly as the lightening had struck, it was gone, replaced with a thundering bang. The man ducked his head, retreating into himself as he turned on his heels and fled. Caring little for the rain or your own safety, you ran after him, calling out for him to wait. It would seem that his great height left him at a disadvantage to you, as you were able to catch up wit him before he reached the edge of the woods. “Wait, please!” You cry out, reaching out and grabbing his cloak and digging your heels into the ground. The man let out a grunt, twisting towards you as if expecting you to attack him, causing his hood to fall back and reveal black hair. He winced and it hit you. He didn’t want you to see him not because he didn’t want you to know who he was, but because of the way he looked. “Im sorry. The thunder and lightening just frightened me, that’s all.” You lied through your teeth. You were already soaked to the bone from the rain, which pelted down with little chance of stopping soon. The wind whipped your hair out of place, almost blowing you off of balance. Yet he stood strong a tree. As if to prove that you weren’t scared of him, you reached out and took his right hand, raising it with is palm upwards. He jumped at the touch, his skin freezing and his hand now tense. Raising it, you hooked the basket in his hand. Once he had the weight, you used both your hands to close his fingers over the handle. “As a thank you for everything you’ve done.” You smile up at him, his eyes so bright without the hood. He was handsome, at least to you. So unique and unknown. You would be lying if you said he didn’t intrigued ou unlike any man you had ever met. “do you have a name?” You asked, suddenly doubting if he even understood you. Perhaps he was mute, or didn’t understand your language. He nodded, his tongue darting out as if to wet his bottom lip despite the fact his face was soaked. “Adam.” A deep voice replied. “Im [y/n].” You told him, as if the two of you were meeting for the first time at some ball or in a local shop. He repeated it back to you, like it was the most beautiful word he had ever heard and just had to make sure he could say it right. A gust of wind ripped through the garden and hit you like a ton of bricks. You fell forward, loosing your footing as you let out a yelp. But a strong arm caught you and, before you could even realise what had happened, you were swept up like a bride. He had dropped the basket to catch you and now proceeded to carry you back through your garden. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you stared up at him while his gaze remained solely on the path. You could see how tense his jaw was, like he was grinding his teeth together. As he climbed the bottom two steps and was about to put you back on your porch, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze. His mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, as if he were unable to believe it. You took the opportunity to swing out of his grasp, now standing on your own feet. “You’d better get home and dry off. The storm looks like it will only worsen tonight. You’ll catch your death.” You look up at the sky. You were pulled from your thought by a soft chuckle, one which made your cheeks burn and your heart stop. It was low, almost too low to hear. You looked to him and saw amusement in his eyes. He doesn’t hold your eyes for more than a second before dropping them, bowing to you. “Thank you for your concern, but I shall be fine.” He speaks with such an elegance that doesn’t quite fit his features. “well, Adam, perhaps you should come back tomorrow, just to let me know you are safe?” You ask, biting your lower lip. his head snaps up, his eyes wide with disbelieve and… hope. a single nod confirms his return as he retreats away from you for the final time that night. He pulls his hood back up and turns away, walking back to the basket, which had landed on the path, but nothing had spilled out. You hoped the blanket that covered it would be enough to protect the content from the rain. he scooped it out, glancing back at you. You smiled and waved, backing into your doorway and closing it. It was all suddenly so quiet without the wind and rain in your ear. You locked the door, unable to stop from smiling as you went to the window, seeing him take one last look at where you had been before disappearing into the woods. You couldn’t help but bursting feeling in your chest that wanted to dance until he returned, nor how his face was burned into your mind in a good way. There was still so many question in your mind. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why did he have those scars? And you couldn’t quite work out if he was the bear or the deer.

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut  words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

one | two | three | four | five |

Epilogue 

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.  

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

~

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

~

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Roguish Women Part 10

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 9: Kate and Tommy meet Alfie Solomons. 

           Kate did her best to support Tommy on their walk to the Yard. The sky was clouded so there wasn’t much light to go on. They were slow-moving with Kate trying to keep him upright and to make sure he didn’t fall or misstep on the uneven streets.

When they made it, Tommy opened the gate and staggered through the entrance. “Curly!” He called hoarsely. “Get that stuff for when their legs go lame.”

“Tommy?” Charlie looked aghast at the sight of his nephew. “They said you’d be in for another three weeks.” He pulled up a chair.

“I need to get on a boat to London, now.”

Kate frowned. “Tommy, you didn’t say anything about London. You need medical attention!”

“The lass is right, Tom, you’re burning up.” Charlie agreed.

Tommy just shook his head, the motion throwing him a bit off balance. “I need to sleep in the open air. Do you have a boat here?”

Kate ran a hand through her uncombed hair. She glanced behind her to where the gate was ajar. She could just go back home, get under the covers, leave Tommy to his own work. If he wanted to be a lunatic, he could do it on his own. But abandoning him didn’t feel right.

Coughing from Tommy brought her back to the conversation. “If I sleep all the way, it’s Camden Town we’re headed for.”

Kate helped him stand up. “Why are we going there?”

But he wasn’t ready to explain anything quite yet. “Tell Polly she’s in charge while I’m away. If I don’t come back, tell her she’s in charge for good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It stunk of canvas and cigars under the covered boat. But Kate knew she had to watch Tommy. He slept for a good deal of the trip, only stirring every so often when the boat rocked.

In the faint candlelight, she could finally take in his injuries. Nearly his entire face was swollen from the beating he’d taken. The way he slept too made it evident that he was sporting at least a few broken ribs.

Kate didn’t have much of a nurturing background but she felt she could at least get Tommy to last the few days it would take to get to London. She kept a cold cloth on his face to try and help his fever. Every few hours she tried to get him to wake for a drink of water. He was mostly incoherent until they were two days in.

He began to sit up for longer periods of time and could hold a better conversation with Kate. More than just mumbles and groans of pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here.” Kate handed him his cigarettes. “Halfway there, ‘least that’s what Curly says.”

“Thank you.” He replied quietly.

“So, can I finally know why I’m on a boat headed for London?” She sat down near him.

Tommy struck up a match and took a few puffs of his cigarette before answering. “Alfie Solomons.”

Kate recalled the Shelby boys telling her that name a long time ago. “He’s a bookie.” She remembered.

He nodded. “Ready to do business with him.”

“And why do you need me to come along?” None of it made much sense to her.

“He’s not just a bookie. He makes rum as well, so I’ve heard. And you know a bit more about the American market. Things he might be interested in knowing.”

“So, you want me to help you help him smuggle rum into the states?” She connected the dots. “And this couldn’t wait until you were healed?”

Tommy shook his head. “I’ve got men after me. After our trip to London, we’ve stirred the pot.”

Kate just sighed and shook her head with a smile. “I had a feeling you would. But I’m not one to tell you, ‘I told you so’.”

“That’s why I like you.” He paused to take a couple more drags of his cigarette. “So, you’ll help me?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” She stood up, or at least as most as she could inside the boat, and grabbed a cloth. “Will you let me clean your cuts?”

“Best they don’t get infected.” Tommy lowered his cigarette and let her start to dab at the cuts on his face. “Fever’s going down so is the swelling in your eye.” She observed. “It’s full of blood though.” It was unsettling to see blood pooling around the striking color of his blue iris. “You just need to be careful.” She checked the cut on his cheek. “This is the deepest one.” She remarked.

“Will it scar?”

“Most likely. It might fade over time if you leave it alone.” Kate had her experience with scars over the years. Most of them she hid cleverly with clothes or makeup. But bare in front of the mirror, she looked like she’d been to war. She went back over to wash the blood from the cloth. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Tommy grunted as he laid back down. “Not yet.”

“Get some sleep then.”

~~~~~~~~~`

“Tommy!” Curly called from the helm of the ship. “We’re in Camden Town now!”

Kate emerged from beneath the canvas with Tommy behind her. She smelled the smoke and soot that was common to London. Birmingham was bleak but London was teeming with ill will. She could feel it in the air.

The second they docked; men were there to question them. Tommy explained they were there to see Alfie Solomons. The men, all wearing hats or yarmulke ushered them to a large warehouse building. People were going in and out, busy with shipments.

At the front doors, Kate and Tommy were greeted by a young man with curly hair. He instantly went about patting Tommy down to check him for weapons.

He glanced at Kate but she simply crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t even ask if I were you.” She warned.

“Put ‘em down, Ollie.” A rough voice came booming down the hall.

Kate glanced around Ollie to see a broad-shouldered man heading towards him. He certainly didn’t look the part of a large gang boss. Wearing a simple, disheveled linen shirt, vest, and an apron around his waist, Alfie Solomons looked like a common worker at first glance. But Kate had learned from her time as a courtesan to look beyond clothing. She’d been taught by some wise women that anyone could dress the part of a gentleman. The real money and the real identity were down to the details.

Alfie wore rings on nearly every single finger. He had a gold bracelet on his wrist. A gold pocket watch was attached to his waist. Glasses hung from his neck on a chain that looked like pure silver.

Wealth aside, he had the tells of a very dangerous man. Tattoos inked both of his hands. A large scar ran down his right cheek. He carried himself like a soldier. Just as Tommy did.

“You always bring women along to meetings with you?” Alfie raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Rosseau’s a part of me company and I think her knowledge could be very useful to you, Mr. Solomons,” Tommy replied. “I think you’ll see that she’s not any ordinary woman.”

Mildly interested Alfie nodded and beckoned them over. “Want to take a look at my bakery? We bake all sorts. We bake the brown bread, the white bread.”

Kate took stock of what they were dealing with. Beyond Alfie’s strength on the tracks, the distillery wasn’t anything to snub. The warehouse was stocked full of barrels but she had a feeling production could increase if the market allowed them to. Tommy was right, Alfie’s rum could be ready to ship out to America any moment.

“Try some bread, love?” Alfie redirected Kate’s attention to a table with bottles.

“I’ll have the white.” She agreed.

“Ah, see there. There’s a woman who knows her booze, aye?” He chuckled and handed her the glass. “C’mon then.” He continued them on to his office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kate didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was worried about Tommy’s health as they sat down in front of Alfie’s desk. He was in a much better condition but he was still limping and she could tell his ribs were bothering him. Still, she knew he needed to maintain a strong image in front of the Camden Town boss. So, she tried to ignore it.

“Well.” Alfie sat down. “I’ve heard very bad, bad, bad, things ‘bout you Birmingham people. Aye?” He tutted. “And you, love, don’t know where you fucking came from with that accent, right, but you’re hanging ‘round with them, ain’t ya? You a gypsy like him then? They have gypsies in America?”

Tommy spoke before Kate had the chance. “Kate and I came to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.”

Something changed in Alfie’s expression. His brow furrowed and his sea-colored eyes flicked to her. “Kate, is it?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Funny, that is. Yeah…I’ve got ears everywhere in London, right? I hear things. Things I need, things I don’t. Don’t fucking matter, I remember every bit of it. Just in case, think that’s savvy, innit?” Alfie ran a hand over his beard as if he were pondering something deeply. “And there’ve been rumors, whispers ‘bout a man from America. An Italian who’s looking for someone.”

Kate’s blood ran cold and she fought the instinct to run. Unsure if it was a trap, she subtly glanced to Tommy. He seemed a little uneasy by where the conversation was going too. But he touched her chair as a gesture of assurance.

“Pretty blonde woman named Kate Lynch. Should be living in Birmingham. Says she’s American by birth.” Alfie continued.

She smiled at him. “My last name isn’t Lynch, Mr. Solomons.”

“Oh, but we can all change our names. Can’t we? To, er I dunno, avoid coppers, debts, jilted lovers, aye?” Alfie’s eyes narrowed. “So, what was it then? You leave ‘im at the altar? Ran away with his kid? Ran away with another man?”

“I think she’s unsure of what you’re talking about, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy stepped in.

“Well, see the thing is, you walk into me office, right, with a woman who’s wanted by Italians.” Alfie retorted firmly.

“She’s got ties to the American markets. Men who would be interested in your rum.”

Alfie fiddled with the handle of one of his drawers. “So that’s what you’re tryna sell me then?”

“My services could be offered to help smuggle your rum anywhere you’d like. I propose we join forces.”

“Fuck off.” Alfie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair. “No! Fucking ridiculous.”

“Mr. Solomons.” Tommy leaned forward. Kate noticed him wince. “Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent, the rest is from the tracks. I’m offering you two solutions. You expand your market to America with your rum with the help of Miss Rosseau. I’d help with that as well. Me other solution deals with your biggest problem.”

Alfie glared back at Tommy. The man continued to glance at the drawer to his right. The movements were making Kate uneasy and she subtly moved her hand into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her pistol.

Tommy continued. “I know you offer a deal or death. But Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses and closing down premises that take your rum. No one trusts your protection anymore.”

Alfie pointed at him. “You’re the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right?” He diverted the conversation. “You did, you fucking betrayed him, mate. So it would be entirely appropriate to do what I’m thinking in me head right now.”

That was an open threat to Kate and she tensed up.

Tommy wasn’t swayed. “I can offer you a hundred armed men and a new relationship with the police.”

“Intelligence,” Alfie ignored him. “Is a very valuable thing, innit? Usually, it comes far too fucking late.” He shifted his left hand down and whipped out a gun.

Kate reacted before Tommy could even breathe. She took out her gun and pointed it back at Alfie. Her heart was beating in her chest but her hand was steady.

It wasn’t clear on Alfie’s face whether he was expecting her to be armed or not. But he didn’t back down either. “So, she’s just your purse for weapons, is she, mate? Men don’t want to frisk a woman so you give her a gun.”

“I’m not an object,” Kate replied through her teeth. “I’m just smart enough to know when I need a gun.”

Alfie’s mustache twitched and he cocked the gun. “See, I could’ve already shot him. Right in the fucking head. Then what? You’d shoot me, aye? You’re really that loyal to ‘im already? What happens after that? Me men come in, maybe they shoot you. Maybe they take you and hand you over to the Italians. I know who you are. You’ve got an American mobster after you and who knows how much he’ll pay to have you returned.”

“I won’t be sold to anyone.” She hissed and cocked her gun in response.

Alfie just let out a chuckle and set his gun down. “You’d give me men hell, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t make it out alive, granted, but you’d try to kill anyone in your path.”

Kate slowly lowered her gun but kept it near. She looked at Tommy and saw that his nose had started to bleed. She reached into her purse for a handkerchief and gave it to him. She cleared her throat and looked back at Alfie. “If Italians are looking for me, so be it. They’ve been hunting me down for years, they won’t succeed. But for you, Mr. Solomons. What’s a bigger way to say fuck you than to work with someone they’ve been unable to get for so long? I have contacts in America, bootleggers, police, bosses. No one in the operation will be caught. No one will interfere with it. I don’t need a big cut of the money. The majority of it can go to you and Tommy. The only thing I ask for is protection. Contrary to what Tommy says, I trust your protection.”

Alfie studied her, stroking his beard. “So, you’d trust that I wouldn’t sell you out.”

Kate didn’t flinch, keeping her eyes right on him. “Every man who has tried is dead now.” She replied coolly. “So, I suppose that’s your decision.”

The Jewish man chuckled. “Draw up a contract then, Mr. Shelby. Include Miss Rosseau in it and we’ll discuss matters further.” He reached over to shake Tommy’s hand.

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