#<- one whole tag. turned off blog hiding for this i want to see results

[splashtag]

if you're like me and you rotate through a few just pick whatever you're doing now / this season (chill season 2023)

[malfoys-demigod]

Turn Me or Leave Me 2/2

1/2

Summary: Elijah makes his choice to find and return you to him with the help of Marcel.

A/N: It was really nice to see that people wanted a second part. This one's shorter but I hope you still enjoy it!

Word Count: 1.8k

Tagging: @puddinmistahj-blog @moon-child-writer @wanniiieeee @agent-anna @mysticalfallsss

“All I wanted was a happy ending. A happy ending to what I have caused on our special day.” Elijah said, expressing his guilt on a sunny morning. A day after the evening of when he learned that you, the love of his life, had chosen to leave, and adding to the misery, asked that your memories were to be erased. Every last one memory he and you shared for the past five years.

Marcel and Klaus, being his only two anchors who felt responsible to hold the honorable and noble Mikaelson standing, stood behind the still-sad Elijah, listening to him sulk around the compound.

Marcel felt highly accountable for putting Elijah in greater pain, confiding in him the truth that came along with nothing but distress. He also felt sorry that he had to tell them something that made you unsure of telling Marcel in the first place, despite not telling them exactly where you were headed… yet.

The right hand of Klaus had sighed, looking at the ground, getting Elijah to turn around and look at him with focus.

“I’ll have you know Marcellus that I completely feel regret in myself for giving her the choice to leave. I shouldn’t have referred to her as a wall when it came to discussing important matters as that. I feel entirely in the wrong as she was right in making that point of no difference between now or five years for me to turn her. I vowed that I’d do anything to make her happy and I denied a simple request that I could have given in a heartbeat. I am clearly spiraling down a whole of great depression and fear, on the brink of turning my humanity off knowing that I cannot attempt to get her back. Is that what you wanted out of me?” he asked, irritated and drained.

Marcel looked at Klaus, who seemed to have shrugged, signaling that this was not his floor for him to say anything since he wasn’t the one to have gotten Elijah’s attention. He then looked back at Elijah, who was breathing heavily from what he had just told Marcel.

“I’m sorry, Elijah, you must have misunderstood me,” Marcel stated, “You see, I wanted to honor the moment Y/N and I had together that night in the airport. In order for her to tell me where she was going, I told her that there was no use in feeling hesitant to tell me since there was an assumption that you’d back off and respect her wishes of leaving, staying here instead. I shouldn’t have done that now that I’m hoping you’d sweep her off her feet again and get her back. Before you snap my neck or anything, just know that I’m on your side now, I want you to get her back.”

Elijah used his super-speed to quickly appear in front of Marcel, looking at him with serious eyes, “Then kindly tell me where she is. I’d like to get my wife back.”

Marcel patted Elijah in the back, smirking with delight, “With pleasure, but there’s someone you should know with her over there who’ll be brought back as well.”

Elijah’s face turned to stone, as his excitement was abruptly brought to a pause. “Who?” he asked with worry.

--

“I’m so glad we could end today’s shopping at this wonderful restaurant’s seating choice, Rebekah.” you thanked your newly made friend.

The two of you were currently at Duke’s La Jolla, a Hawaiian-inspired restaurant known for its beautiful outdoor seatings, overlooking the ocean views San Diego had to offer. This was near La Jolla Cove, a place Rebekah had planned on taking you to see after.

Right now, Duke’s was the place to gather energy and restore appetite after today’s massive shopping care of Rebekah at The Shops, an unparalleled experience for shopping at the city. She surprisingly took care of all the expenses, managing you to not stress about the endless rolling of receipts. She said it was another warm way of welcoming you to the city.

“Of course, dear, Y/N,” Rebekah waved off, “I’ve befriended the chef quite some time ago and got us the best seats for today. He’s remarkably a talented chef I might say as our meals are on the house.”

You gasped at the fact that meals were also taken cared of, “First the shopping, now the meals? This clearly has to be a dream, Rebekah, I’m serious, nobody could be that lucky in one day.”

“I can assure you that the chef of Duke’s has his ways of welcoming newcomers to his city and giving out free meals on your first visit is one of his many ways,” said an masculine voice, interrupting the conversation.

You looked up to see an elegant and sophisticated man, wearing a black luxurious suit, smiling at you with such captivation in his eyes. He removed one of his hands that had been hiding in his pocket, lending it out for you to shake.

“I’m Elijah, Rebekah’s brother,” the man introduced himself to you.

You took out your hand, shaking it with a small, enchanted smile on your face as you were charmed by his presence, “It’s nice to meet you, Elijah, I’m Y/N.”

Elijah felt nothing but pure attractiveness in how refreshing you looked compared to how he saw you last time. He was feeling nervous but wonderful to see you as you felt and appeared so different.

He examined how different you looked in terms of fashion. Rebekah transformed you into this fresh West Coast beach girl, successfully rocking the sundress and denim jacket as your hair was flowing down in a wavy manner. Your smile, it really showed that you were compelled. You had no thoughts of the troubling life you had in New Orleans, especially during the last time you interacted with Elijah. You seemed to have had no thought on the supernatural events happening, as there was nothing but sunshine on your mind.

Marcel seemed to have noticed that Elijah was about to start fawning over you for a much longer time than he had expected, which caused him to nudge Elijah in the shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

Elijah, animated back to reality, turned to Marcel, who was smiling warmly at you, “This is Marcel, a friend of mine.”

“He’s also my boyfriend actually,” Rebekah stated, smiling at you and Elijah. Marcel extended his hand and chuckled at you, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You shook Marcel’s hand, gasping again at Rebekah, “Rebekah I didn’t even know about you having a brother, and now a boyfriend? You seem to be hiding lots of things from me,” you teased.

“Relax darling, I’ve only met you a few days ago, I can’t just talk you through my entire life,” Rebekah sarcastically replied, “No doubt that would take centuries,” she looked at Elijah with a smirk.

“Right, well I wouldn’t want to be rude anymore, Elijah, Marcel, would you like to join us? The view is to die for, and so is the food!” you proposed, inviting your two new friends to sit with you by the table.

Rebekah waved her hands at Elijah and Marcel who had begun nodding and gesturing to sit, “But would you look at the time? Y/N was meaning to be taken to La Jolla Cove and now seems to be the perfect time.”

You turned to Rebekah, narrowing your eyebrows in confusion. But before you had a say in it, Elijah took a step forward and pointed at his sister, “Yes well, perhaps you’ve forgotten that you and Marcel have matters to attend to by this hour, sister? Y/N shouldn’t be worried about cancelled plans on her end, I’d be delighted to take her for you, if that's alright with you, Y/N?” he asked, now looking at you.

You rapidly nodded in excitement, “Of course, I don’t see why not!”

Marcel clasped his hands together, rubbing it in successfully, “Well now that’s settled, I think it’s time to make a move now,” he offered, looking at the group with a big grin on his face. Rebekah pursed her lips in irritation, “Right, just fantastic…” she murmured, standing up and making her way beside Marcel.

Elijah took his hand out gracefully, which you took in response, standing up beside him with an elated smile on your face. “Well, thank you for lunch today, Rebekah, and of course shopping. I’ll see you at home later?”

“With good things to look forward to I hope,” Rebekah strangely replied, which somehow Elijah and Marcel knew what she meant, leaving Marcel and Rebekah to part ways after that, resulting in you and Elijah left alone again.

He looked at you with mesmerism for a quick second and then gestured his hand to the exit, “Shall we?”

--

Plans with the person taking you to La Jolla Cove may have been changed but something about Elijah taking you instead didn’t really bother you. He was nothing but a pleasure to be with at the moment. After multiple times of offering that you drive, you finally gave up when Elijah strongly insisted that he’d take the wheel and drive the two of you to your destination.

For some reason, the drive to the cove had been surprisingly quiet in a good way. Glances at each other were exchanged every so often, smiling at each other as if you two were an old and sweet married couple enjoying each other’s moments together.

While you were thinking about how kind and handsome your friend’s brother was, Elijah was feeling nothing but a breeze of happiness in his heart, seeing you smile as if nothing in the world was bothering you at the moment. He was a little sad that you weren’t aware anymore of the feud between you two, but he wanted to cherish this happy and silent moment the two of you were sharing, knowing it would come to an end later on as he intended of bringing your memories back.

Once you arrived at the cove, you quickly stepped out and breathed the fresh and sunny air in the small, picturesque cove and beach that was surrounded by cliffs. “Wow, I can see why this place is deeply loved by both tourists and locals.” you admitted, gazing at the waves and breathtaking sky.

You turned around, looking at Elijah, who seemed to have already made his way beside you, putting his hands back on his pocket. You noticed how elegantly perfect he looked in his suit, but it didn’t really suit the setting. “Can I be honest with you, Elijah?” you asked, getting his attention.

He gave a small smile and nod, gesturing for you to continue, “Of course.”

“No offense because I really like your whole get up and all but wearing a nice suit… on a beach?” you joked, laughing at what you said.

Elijah looked down at his whole look, grinning at your observation and started unbuttoning his jacket, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do hope though that folding up my shirt and trousers would suffice at the moment.”

“We could head back to the mall and get you some beach clothes if you want,” you offered, turning around to the car.

Elijah shook his head, and stopped you by grabbing your forearm, “That won’t be necessary, Y/N, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on spending more time in this lovely place.”

You nodded, showing a gesture of appreciation and looked back at the view of the beach, “It’s beautiful isn’t it? I’ve never seen such magnificent views like this. You see, I’m originally from New Orleans and I just moved here to the West Coast and I haven’t really had much exposure to things like this.”

Elijah, finished folding his shirt and trousers, looked at you with care, “Do you like it here so far?”

You nodded, showing eyes of hopes and dreams awaiting to be accomplished, “You bet. I don’t really see myself going back to New Orleans. I can’t explain how I’m feeling exactly but this place makes me feel free and at ease. Like nothing’s stopping me to live a carefree and happy life.”

Elijah displayed somewhat of a small smile, which to him was because he was relieved and happy that you were happy. The smile was small because he also felt unhappy that he was not able to provide you this happiness.

“What about you, Elijah?”

“Hm?” Elijah hummed in confusion.

“Are you living a carefree and happy life as well?” you prompted, asking innocently. “Perhaps there’s a special person in your life that’s giving you the additional happiness in your life?” There was something in your gut that wanted you to ask this, wanting to know if he had a significant other in his life.

Elijah chuckled to himself in a depressing way, looking down at the ground. “It’s quite a long story.”

“Ah,” you opened your mouth, happy that you understood what he was trying to say, “But do you love her?”

There seemed to be a quick and honest nod from Elijah, who seemed to be looking directly at the horizon, as if he was vividly thinking about his girl. “Words cannot express how much I love her.”

“So what happened?” you genuinely asked.

“One single yet vast mistake I made on my end. It ruined everything that we had together and I will never forget how much I regretted everything that led to her completely starting a new life without me. It broke my heart but I deserved that. She doesn’t deserve to have her heart broken because I wasn’t thinking things correctly.” he utterly confessed with grief.

You touched his shoulder out of pity, causing him to look at you with soft eyes, “Fight for her, Elijah. She has to be around here somewhere, hasn’t she? It isn’t too late to see if you have a chance to get her back and I know you will. I can help find her!” you supportingly said, trying to get his hopes up.

But it somehow failed. He sighed, shaking his head at you. His hand slowly touched yours, the one that held his shoulder. “Looking around for her won’t be necessary,” he replied, confusing you, “Because you’ve been standing alongside me today.”

You narrowed your eyes, wondering what he meant as this sounded strange to you. “I-I don’t follow, Elijah.”

Elijah placed both his hands on your shoulders firmly, looking you straight in the eye as he started compelling you.

“What we have just briefly discussed between us is considered a highlight of what I’m about to bring back to you,” he first said, “Recently, Marcel Gerard had compelled you to forget everything that happened to you in the last five years upon your request. The reason for this was because I denied you of becoming a vampire after being asked by you on our five year anniversary. With this, we had a massive quarrel, leaving you to have your memories erased and decide to start a new life here, away from New Orleans. Eventually you met again, Rebekah, but that doesn’t matter as much as what I’m about to say. I, Elijah Mikaelson, your husband, have travelled to see you, ending this compulsion to give you free will upon hearing what has been said.”

A few mere seconds had passed after Elijah’s compulsions and there you were, standing, and staring at someone who grew fondly familiar to you, bringing about tears slowly falling on your face as emotions were just attacking your body, hitting you right in the face with such clarity and impact.

Elijah only saw a tearful wife of his, narrowing her eyes with emotion as she didn’t know how to feel at the moment. He wanted to hug her and tell her everything was fine but he wanted her to make the first move, giving her the choice on how she wanted to react.

“E-Elijah,” your voice broke, causing you to just wrap your arms around his neck, breaking out to sob quietly. Elijah frowned in pity, hugging you back with such grip on his arms, wanting to not let you go. He gently rubbed your back, whispering sweet words and telling you to let it all out.

“My darling,” he whispered, “Just let it all out, it will be alright.”

Still embracing him, you shook your head, which he felt you do, “No,” you denied, “I’m so sorry, Elijah.”

This caused the heartwarming hug to stop from the two of you, as you simultaneously pulled out from each other. Elijah looked at you with slight confusion, after hearing you apologize. “Elijah,” you continued, “It was really wrong of me to lash out on you that night. I completely destroyed our anniversary night all because of one thing I kept going on about. Then I didn’t even let you know what choice I chose, leaving you to find out in a way you couldn’t imagine. I’m very, truly, sorry.”

Elijah gloomed, lowering his face with guilt, “No, Y/N,” he started with a low, sad voice, “It is I who is in the wrong, not you. You will never be in the wrong. What you asked for was something to do with what special thing we have. Of course it is my dream to live an eternal life with you, and when the situation appeared in front of me, I foolishly ignored it and words cannot express how wrong that was of me to do. I was a fool for doing so, for letting you go, and making you unhappy. It went to show how vapid I was as a husband and the guilt of that lives in me. It was I who destroyed our special day together, not you, but I. When you left without telling me, I deserved that as it gave me the time to reflect on how much of a mindless person I was that night. Knowing that you went here to start a life without me broke me. I never wanted to imagine what it was like to not have you in my life anymore and that fear arrived the moment we fought and I was trembling with such immense fear, knowing that life would crumble down without you by my side. I want you to know Y/N, that you are the love of my life always and forever. I am deeply apologetic for what I have done and I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make things right, to make us right again, because all I want in my life is to make you happy and if you will, I would like to live an eternal life with you, for you are the light of my life.”

It didn’t take another second for you to think about it. Despite going through a lot on both your ends, he was still the love of your life. If there was one thing the Mikaelsons taught you, it was that no matter what happens, family will always come down as the number one thing in life, always and forever.

You nodded, starting to grow a smile on your face, followed along with giggles, which caused Elijah to tense down and return the smile, “Yes, Elijah,” you replied, “I will always love you with all my heart. You are after all, my husband, my lover, my favorite person in the entire world and I would never want things to end between us for you too are the light of my life.”

With that, Elijah cupped your face and connected his lips with yours, planting a passionate and heartwarming kiss to end the beautiful day in one of your favorite places with your favorite person. You returned to wrapping your arms around his neck, hoping to stay like this forever with him.

Perhaps the two of you could stay in this beautiful place for awhile, after all… It is your special week in the end.

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 17- The Patrol Redux

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning: Very slight spoilers for the provisional licensing exam in the anime and spoiler for the manga

Masterlist

Hawks was well accustomed to the jovial persona he was expected to put on in front of pretty much everyone outside of the commission. After all, it was one he’d cultivated almost his whole life. Of course he had days throughout the years where it felt all too exhausting to play the joker, but hero work was exhausting. That was the nature of the business. But since he’d watch your heart shatter in real time, since he’d heard you crying on the other side of a bathroom door all while you texted him about his betrayal, the persona hadn’t just been exhausting but absolutely suffocating. Yet he couldn’t turn it off. It was almost more natural to be Hawks than it was to be Keigo now. Even when Mirko had pointed out how rough he looked, his instinct had been to sit up straighter and perk up his wings as if that would hide the bags under his eyes. Hawks never dropped the persona. But as he sat on the roof of a building by where he intended to meet Chargebolt he realized he would probably have to.

Mirko had given him a plan. A really good one at that. If it worked he’d have to thank her later. But there was no way it would if he wasn’t genuine and that meant meeting Denki Kaminari as Keigo Takami. If the conversation stayed between Chargebolt and Hawks he was screwed. Knowing it was necessary and actually doing it, however, were two different beasts entirely. He would have to ignore every instinct he had honed over the more than decade he’d been a ward of the HPSC.

It had taken all of Denki’s strength to leave the apartment. You had looked so sad bundled up in his comforter staring blankly at your laptop screen as you went back and forth between attempting to work from the safety of his home and Netflix. Eventually though he had managed to pull himself away from his heartbroken friend, no matter how much it pained him, to go join the very person who had shattered you so thoroughly. He had wanted to cancel his patrols with Hawks but after the gossip blog had tweeted out about a potential feud his agency had demanded he keep it in order to avoid a pr nightmare. Who knew being a hero came with so much politics.

He expected Hawks to swoop down from above once he arrived at their designated meeting spot. He did not expect Hawks to look as bad as he did. “You look like shit,” Denki says by way of greeting. Hawks let’s out a humorless chuckle, “you’re the second person to tell me that today. Let’s go.” Everything about the experience is odd. As the two begin to walk Denki notices the bags under his eyes, the heavy set to his shoulders. For the first time ever Hawks truly looks like a man who carries the weight of Japan on his shoulders. “I know I have no right to ask this but how is she doing?” Hawks asks. Denki wants to snap back something snarky but something tells him not to. “Not good,” he says instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his costume. Hawks thinks for a long moment, debating whether to ask the next question that comes to mind. In the end he decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “What happened at the provisional licensing exam?” “Dude.” “Not investigating. I swear.”

It’s weird to see Hawks so serious. Even when Denki had been injured during their first patrol Hawks hadn’t stopped bantering even once. It’s what had made Denki want to continue patrolling with him in the first place. At the time he thought they were similar. Class clowns who knew how to pull it together when the going got tough. But now all traces of that joviality seemed gone, except for the few moments the two of them would pass by a civilian, then he’d watch it slide back on like a second skin. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You explain the whole funny guy act thing you’ve got going on right now. It’s creeping me out a little seeing you switch back and forth dude,” Denki says.

Hawks stops dead in his tracks. His jaw clenches because it’s fair, trading one personal fact for another, but it goes against everything the HPSC has taught him. On the other hand, if he refuses, Denki will assume he’s just investigating again and then his chances of winning you back would really be gone. Denki looks confused as Hawks agonizes. He didn’t think it was that deep a question. Expected something along the lines of why All Might used to smile as he saved people. “It was the commission’s idea. I was a quiet kid and quiet doesn’t play well for a top hero,” Hawks finally admits before resuming walking. Denki has to speed up a little to keep pace. It’s an odd answer but he recognizes it must’ve been a difficult one to give. And, well, a deal is a deal.

“Like I said, (y/n) only took the exam because I pressured her into it,” Denki starts. He expected Hawks to perk up at learning new information about you but the man only nods in acknowledgment that he’s listening. “I thought if she got her license it’d convince her to try to be a pro hero again and then she could switch over to the hero course and join my class. She absolutely crushed the first part of the exam too. Yknow we had to tag targets on each other with these balls they gave us. It felt like a game so it was fun for her because she just smoked people out of the water. You should’ve seen Bakugo’s face when he realized she passed before he did! But uh, not the point.... The, uh, the point is uhm second round didn’t go so hot. We were helping some of the fake civilians when Gang Orca broke into the arena to play a villain attacking during a rescue and it, uh, it hit a little too close to home. Reminded her too much of how her mom died. She ended up having a panic attack. That’s why she failed and that’s why she didn’t bother going to any of the supplemental classes afterwards.”

The weight on Hawks’ shoulders seems to grow. “God I really am the worst aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Yea you kinda are,” Denki agrees, “but you’re kinda making it hard for me to hate you. Looking all torn up over this like that. It’s depressing seeing the number two hero like this yknow.” “Hence the persona,” Hawks shrugs. It’s quiet today, although they both expected as much. At least it gave them the space to talk. “Why’d you do it Hawks?” Denki finally asks. “Because she was too good to be true.” “Funny. She said the same thing about you that day.” “I’m many things but I don’t know if good is one of them anymore.” “Because of what happened with (y/n)?” “No. Not just that.” “I think this is the most honest I’ve ever seen you.” “This is the most honest I’ve ever been.” “How’s it feel?” “Terrifying. Mirko says I have trust issues.” “Yea that lines up.” “I need to talk to (y/n).”

Denki is the one to stop in his tracks this time. “I swear to god Hawks if you’re just trying to jerk her around I-“ “No! No it’s not that. I-,” Hawks sighs, “I just want a chance to explain why I am the way I am. Why I was so suspicious in the first place. If she wants nothing to do with me after that then that will be the end of it. I’ll write her a glowing recommendation letter for whatever hero agency she’d rather work at instead and she’ll never hear from me again. I swear.” Denki gives Hawks a considering look. Part of him wants to deny Hawks. That’s what Bakugo would do. Tell him to fuck off and keep his stupid explanations to himself. But he thought about you, curled up in his comforter, and decided it really shouldn’t be his decision whether Hawks stayed in your life or not. And if you were going to decide, you deserved to do so knowing all the facts. “Fine. After we finish patrol you can come with me to my place and talk to her but I swear to god if you make her cry again or I detect any bullshit, I’ll fry you Hawks. Number two hero or not I’ll send a million volts straight through your face with my fist.” “Thank you.” It was sighed out like a prayer. For the first time since you’d seen his texts, Hawks felt hopeful.

Author’s Note: Denki and Mirko are good friends to (y/n) and Hawks :’) In my mind there’s no way the HPSC didn’t know about Touya so I assume they helped Endeavor cover it up and would do their absolute best to make sure word didn’t get out about him being a literal child abuser

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut

[gallickingun]

welded hearts || b.k.

SUMMARY: You and Bakugou have to try and pick up the pieces after the incident with Awase, but neither of you are doing a very good job. It leads to distance and lies, and you’re not sure if there’s any way to save the fragments that remain of your shattered relationship. Especially when you find out that Bakugou has been tracking your every move.

Follows the events of Ensnare, an Awase x Reader x Bakugou fic written by @lady-bakuhoe​.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 11.7k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

AUTHOR’S NOTE: after reading Jo’s fic, I immediately rushed to her inbox to foam at the mouth about what kind of angst would follow when Bakugou and Reader attempt to put back together what is left of their relationship, with Bakugou really not feeling like a man, and reader feeling absolutely suffocated, and this little fic was born. Also, this is my first time not tagging any blogs, I just need to start fresh. I hope everyone understands!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

The strange combination of distance and suffocation make your head spin.

Nightmares plague your mind at night, leaving the opportunity for visions to run rampant through your sleep-deprived brain during the day. You spend the daylight hours looking over your shoulder, your forehead broken out into a constant sweat, and you spend the evenings wondering if you might have imagined the whole thing.

You wake up alone most of the time, no matter what phase of the night you are suffering through. The first few times you would go searching the house for him, wondering where his overactive body could have taken him this time. Most nights you found him at the kitchen table going over suit designs and contracts for more hero patrols and brand deals.

You’d ask him when he was coming back to bed only for those familiar vermilion eyes to pass you a blank stare and his dry voice to echo out, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed.”

And each night you’d listen.

You curl up beneath the covers, tugging the fabric to your chin, and stare at the wall. You attempt breathing exercises and grounding techniques, but that does not stop the shadowy figures you see in the hallway or the closet. Your imagination gets the better of you as it hallucinates the image of the culprit himself stood in your bathroom doorway, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“So fucking pretty,” his mouth snarls around the words, dark hair shining despite the dark. His teeth are pearlescent even in the dim moonlight filtering through your window, “Whose going to stop me? You?”

A shudder shakes your shoulders and when you blink, he’s gone, like a phantom escaped in the night. You rip your hands through your hair and tears drip down from your lids into your lap, staining the fabric of your pajama pants. Your hands shake in front of you, fingertips showing double the harder you try to concentrate.

His presence is akin to smoke billowing within your belly. The tendrils of his black cloud wrap around your spine, traveling up your torso until it sits in the base of your throat, suffocating you endlessly. Every day you spend breathing is another day fighting for relief from this monstrous thing in your chest.

Bakugou turns to much different means of coping.

At first it was sweet – him checking in on you. He would offer to come pick you up from work if you’d ever decided to leave anytime after seven, and if he was stuck on patrol or in meetings, he’d arrange a car to bring you home. When you go on your afternoon runs, he’d volunteer to go with you even though he’d done rigorous amounts of training at work.

The simplest ways he would show his sense of pride in protecting you would be to hover closely, his body within an arm’s length so he could snag you out of any bad situation if there ever were one. Still, even with his insatiable hovering tendencies, he would keep his own personal touch at bay.

At times when he would usually hold your hand or brush up against you, he stays at least three feet away. It’s as if he’s chosen to self-quarantine himself from you, deeming your affections as either insufficient or insufferable, which neither are good options to choose from.

Once it becomes overwhelming, you find yourself in too deep, too bitter. You try to reach out to him in the form of affection – brushing your palm over his hips as you pass him in the kitchen, trying to grab his hand when you’re walking together, and reaching out to touch his shoulders when he faces away from you the few nights he does end up in bed.

To shout out now would be hypocritical, as you have had a part in pushing him further from you, isolating his affectionate touches even further. Yet, the longer he keeps himself from brushing even his clothed thigh against you when he passes you by in the kitchen or at the grocery store, you wonder who is actually suffering from the lack of physical affection and who is merely existing.

Eventually he grows more suffocating.

Bakugou will not let you be out of his sight for longer than a few minutes at a time despite sitting opposite from you on every surface he can find. You have started to hide in the bathroom, proclaiming cramps or bad pork before skittering off to the bathroom with your phone clutched in the grasp of your fingers, if only to find some peace from his prying eyes for a few moments at a time.

He has never been so clingy before, and you know that it is laced with the trauma as a result of the Awase situation. However, this doesn’t make it any easier to stomach his lurking. On the other hand, it adds a stinging sensation at the irony of it all.

Bakugou wants to be completely involved in every facet of your life without even kissing you good morning when he hands you your coffee.

You knew that what had happened with Awase all those weeks ago had to have affected him, coloring his outlook on life no matter how bleak it had been before. With each passing day he grows closer to you, hands metaphorically wrapped around your throat, squeezing every last pound of air from your tongue. But still, you never imagined that he would take t his far.

And so, you lie through your teeth.

Yaoyorozu was invited to the grand opening of a bar in the plaza sector of the city, and she invites you and the other girls for a night out. You know that if Bakugou heard about you going on about visiting a bar and intending to drink, he’d say some new form of the word ‘no’ and persuade you with his big, round, crimson eyes to stay home.

There were too many safety hazards, after all. Especially if you are going to be drinking. Your senses would be impaired, and you would be much easier to take advantage of once you are two shows into the wind. And then Bakugou would casually remind you that Momo normally finds a guy and ditches you, thus forcing you into taking a cab ride home, which creates an entirely new set of problems.

Which is why, when you tell him why you won’t be home tonight, you lie, “It’s just a sleepover, like back in high school! Momo and Ochako wanted to get back together and I think Mina might even be coming too!”

Bakugou nods, looking over the top of his combat training manual, “Just let me know if you need me to come pick you up, alright?”

You nod, not daring to reach forward and try to brush your hand against his forearm, afraid he might recoil or redirect you. Instead you force a smile, nodding your head as you open the door, “Momo is picking me up, and she said she’d be fine with driving me back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

His posture visibly relaxes at the sentiment. It is maddening how one simple shift of his composure makes you want to barrel into him, to forget your entire night and attempt to curl up with him on the couch. It has been so long since you last felt his touch, even in a casual sense. The bar counter top acts like a prison, barring him from you as he isolates himself.

“Have fun,” he manages, eyes falling away from you.

And you’re glad, too. At least when he’s not looking at you, he can’t read your face for lies. Bakugou is like a human lie detector, able to sense any unease in your usually relaxed posture.

Of course he has no reason to disbelieve you – why would you lie to him in the first place? You have preyed on that trust, a thing you feel so despicable for even considering, the fib scraping against your teeth like nails on a chalkboard. You wince at his tone, unbelievably naïve, but the door stays open regardless of your conviction.

The lie rolls around in your belly like a parasite, preying on the poor decisions and leeching on your inhibitions. You feel it suffocating your throat as you blow a kiss his direction, telling him not to wait up as you readjust your backpack full of overnight accessories and a change of clothes that is slung over your right shoulder.

Bakugou smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which only further feeds the parasitic being taken up a home in your stomach. It sits heavy on your tongue when you tell him goodnight, threatening to chew right through your cheek until it’s been bared to the whole world.

He nods, licking his lips as he watches you leave. You wave one last time as you shut the door, guilt eating you alive until you feel tears press against the backs of your eyelids. You swallow your conscience and head towards the car you recognize as Momo’s, the weight of your club clothes sitting heavy in your backpack. You cinch it closer to you, praying that Bakugou hasn’t somehow developed x-ray vision to be able to see through your bag.

And yet, a part of you wants him to come barreling down the stairwell to beg you to come back inside, back home. You want him to whisper your name like a prayer, his hands outstretched so you can reach forward to slot your knuckles between his.

At least in your hallucinations he still wants you.

--

Once you’re at the club bar, it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself in a drunken stupor.

“Listen,” you slur, pointing a finger into Momo’s ample chest, “I-I’m not sayin’ he’s gotta dick me down every night, b-but like-once?!”

You take a long drag of beer, swallowing the acidic liquid until it’s burning your throat. You slam your cup back down on the table top, pursing your lips as you take in a deep breath, “I mean it’s been months, guys. Months.”

“A-Are you serious?” Uraraka leans in closer to you, eyes widened, “N-Not since-”

“Nope,” you huff, slumping down in the booth seat. “I-I know that since the incident that things have been different, but it’s like he doesn’t even want me anymore.”

Momo reaches her arm around your shoulder, tucking you into her side, “I’m sure he just doesn’t know how to handle all of it, and he’s just trying to do his best.”

“Bakugou?” Mina laughs, bright eyes hidden behind her lids as she screws her face up into a giggle. She takes a sip of her beer, propping her feet on the nearest unoccupied table, and sighs, “Good luck with that one, babes. I don’t see things returning back to normal anytime soon, not with how damn stubborn he can be.”

The beginning of a fresh set of tears presses like a crater into the backs of your eyes, a pulsing headache drawing out a groan from your lips. You drop your forehead to the tabletop and relish at the cool surface opposing your heated flesh, “I-I know that normal isn’t exactly an option yet, but I would like to feel like I wasn’t so fucking alone in my own house, y’know? I mean, he’s right there and yet it’s like I’m there all by myself?”

Your phone buzzes from within your purse and there is a collective grouching that echoes from everyone at the table, sour expressions making it obvious the way they feel about your ringtone. Momo crosses her arms over her chest, “You do realize this is the seventeenth time he’s called you, right?”

You reach into your purse but her hand is on your wrist before you can snatch your phone. She shakes her head and Mina huffs through her nose, “Why can’t you just put that thing on silent? When is he going to stop bugging you?”

“Yeah?” Momo brushes her thumb against your forearm, “Didn’t you tell him you were coming out with us tonight?”

A bright red tinge sits hot on your cheeks, making your skin look flushed. Your friends understand your conflict then, sitting back from you in shame. Mina is the first to speak, “You lied?”

“I-well, I couldn’t just-” You rack your brain for the right words to say to defend yourself, sweat accumulating at the base of your back in droves. You want to run away, but there’s nowhere to go. If you head home now, Bakugou will most likely have a full rant ready for you as soon as you walk in the door.

“You can’t keep lying to him like this,” Momo presses her palm to your cheek, brushing away a tear before it can slip down your face, “You’re going to have to be honest with him eventually. He needs to back off, to let you live. There’s no reason he has to be attached to you like an umbilical cord all of the time.”

“His concern is kind of nice, though,” Jirou speaks up.

Your head snaps towards her and she shrugs, “All I’m saying is at least he’s trying to protect you. He’s not completely self-absorbed after all.”

Before you can try to refute her or defend him, your phone starts ringing once more. Your hand dives into your purse, pulling it from within and looking down at it like that might keep it from ringing any longer.

“I don’t understand!” You’re whining now, fresh saltine droplets settling in your lashes. You wipe at your face, “I-I don’t get why he won’t just leave me the hell alone. I told him exactly what I was doing tonight, exactly where I was going and who I was going to be with. I just-”

“Except you lied.”

You feel all of the heat leave your body, only frozen fingertips and an icy, rigid spine left behind.

You turn your head at the familiar baritone voice that cuts into you from behind, and your heart drops into your stomach. When you breathe, the parasitic thing living there begins to swallow your stomach whole, gnawing away at your most sensitive parts first.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to feel anger instead of shame, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What, pray tell, the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugou snaps, eyes a conflagration of brassy tones, pupils dilated to prove his anger, as if it weren’t so evident from his tone.

Mina goes to speak up when she sees you flinch, but you’re already being dragged out from the safety of the booth seat. Bakugou’s blunt nails are digging into your bicep and forearm like little spears, snagging you so you can’t get away. He yanks you into the hallway, your back pressed into the wall as he further infringes on your space with his closeness.

“You fuckin’ lied to me?”

His voice is held together by rage, begging to be broken apart as he lets the feelings seep through the cracks of his resolve. Bakugou’s jaw quivers as he grinds his teeth together, heaving breaths making his chest expand to brush against your own. It’s the closest thing you’ve felt to intimacy since that night in the alley – since he decided to pretend that you and your needs didn’t exist.

You want to start bubbling out another fib, foaming at the mouth with lies so smooth he’d have to believe them. Your brain is stumbling in attempt to keep up with his fast paced thinking. Every phrase you could possibly say to make this go down like honey instead of vinegar passes through your mind, but you know that this will sting no matter how long you put off trying to swallow it.

The intentions you have now, to make everything easier on him and spare his emotions, have been tainted by your conniving words from before. You weren’t preparing for a confessional in the middle of this hole-in-the-wall bar, but not every night goes exactly how you plan it.

The both of you understand that sentiment rather intimately.

Bakugou’s eyes are ablaze, vermilion bleeding to amber nearest his pupils. His jawline is flexed, nostrils flaring, and you know that laced within his anger is something akin to fright, fearfulness. Every single feature he possesses is pinched tightly, as if his body were wound like a coil, and he is going to snap at any moment.

And then, when your mouth bobs open and shut, and you can’t find the right lie to squeeze between your teeth, you begin putting the whole situational puzzle back together. Anger replaces the acrid taste in your mouth, cinders of fury settling on your tongue the more it all starts to make sense.

Your eyes meet his and he feels the shift, his grip on your arm lessening at the sight of your furious irises honing in on him. The reality that he is not as innocent as you would like to believe seeps into your skin, settling like sticky acid, and you itch religiously to get it off of you.

“How did you know that I was here?” you ask, voice eerily calm as your vision begins to blur at the edges. You gnaw on your lower lip, tilting your head to consider every falter in his expression, “I told you I was going to be at Yaoyorozu’s. You had no idea that-”

You can’t help the choking sound that comes from your throat next, gagging on your words as pure fury overwhelms your body. Your shoulders shudder under the strain of these destructive emotions as realization settles in. Even the fear in his own irises cannot stop the tumultuous build of vehemence that seeps through you like molten lava, crawling upwards through your veins until all you can see is red – blinding red.

You’re repeating your question when it appears he won’t answer you to speak the truth; eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled. Your jawline pulsates with muscle tremors as you grit your teeth down fervently, a high-pitched whining sound echoing within your own skull at the action, “What did you do, Katsuki?”

It’s not a question, though, not this time.

Bakugou’s throat bobs and before he can give you some shitty, half-thought out excuse, you’re poking your finger into his chest, directly between the taut line of his pectorals, “Where is it?”

“Wh-What?” he manages to cough out, tongue bitten between his teeth.

You take a step back with each question of the location, chin wobbling in denial, “My bag? My phone? My car? Did you put it in me, Katsuki?”

The sound of his given name dripping like toxic acid from your tongue makes his heart constrict within the confines of his chest. The organ beats at a thunderous pace, so hard that he’s sure there is an outlined bruise in the shape of it if you were to peel his shirt back and look. Still, he knows better than to argue with you – knows even better than to try and deny it. You are a human lie detector when it comes to him. You know his mannerisms so well that you’re able to spot a stuttering breath from a mile off, even the smallest of hints to his dastardly secret-keeping seeming like bright white lights to you.

He has backed himself into a corner in trying to keep you safe, so he admits with his head hung low, “Your phone.”

A shuddering breath makes your chest collapse, jaw fallen slack at the confession. Your spirit was praying that he might have just found out from a friend, maybe Kirishima discovered that you were out with Momo and Mina and told him. But no, now he’s admitted to the crime and he knows that he’ll have to face the punishment.

You want to root around in your purse until you’ve found the offending object, but it’s not the time, at least not right now. He can’t take advantage of using it while you’re both still in the same location. You’ll have to handle it later.

“How long?” you ask, voice small.

Bakugou does not answer immediately. His eyes are downcast, unable to meet yours as his lower lip quivers just enough for you to make it out in the dim light of the bar. Your heart thrums at the sight of him so distraught, but you lock your knees and force your body to straighten your spine and steel your resolve.

You repeat the question, digging your fingertip into his skin until you are sure that you’ve drawn blood underneath the fabric of his black tank top.

He snaps, the blood vessels in his neck thudding against the tanned skin there, “Since Awase, when the fuck else do you think?”

And just like that, your entire body is thrown back in time. You are that helpless woman in that alleyway, your body used for the lustful gratification of someone else, thrown to the side like a plaything when he was through. You feel hands, lips, skin, all over you, torturing your body even now when you are awake. The ghost of his crooked touch makes your eyes water, thick droplets sticking to your lashes.

The sound of that villain’s name makes your ears burn and your tongue turn to sandpaper. A chill runs down your spine despite the massive blanket of heat in the room from all the bodies burning with alcohol and movement. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes unable to focus as you attempt to come back to this version of reality.

A single tear drips down your cheek, but Bakugou knows better than to try and wipe it away like he might if it were any other time.

“I-I can’t believe this,” you murmur, withdrawing your finger from him to cover your mouth with both hands. You blink slowly, turning your gaze from him to the floor, taking it all in with stride, attempting to breathe as evenly as possible while still processing everything unfolding in front of you.

Bakugou reaches up to touch your elbow, just enough contact to try and bring you back down to earth. Your eyes snap upward, meeting his vermilion gaze with an expression opposing your fiery wit from earlier. He’s never seen your body waver in such a way that would leave him to believe you to be weak, but now all he wants is to hold you between his arms, piecing you back together bone-by-bone, vessel-by-vessel.

You’re lost in the simplistic touch of him, the first you’ve felt in what you know to be weeks, but believe to be eons. He has been so distant from you that you almost forget why you are angry when he’s this close to you, suffocating your body in the best of ways. You can smell the telltale sign of his quirk, an ashen sweetness that you are sure you’ve become addicted to throughout the entirety of your relationship.

A breath bites through your lungs and you sharply cut your teeth into the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself out of your dazed stupor brought on by isolation. As you open your eyes again, you steel yourself, stepping up with brazen confidence to slap away his hand from your arm.

The burning flames licking at your throat turn to white-hot rage, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Katsuki, but this controlling me shit has got to stop.”

His eyes refocus on yours again, pupils swallowing those pretty red globes whole, fear riddling every bone in his fragile body, “Wh-What are you talking about?”

Now it is you who has backed him into a corner, his backside and shoulder pushing against the wall. He tries to reach out to stop you, to beg for your forgiveness, but the stony expression in your irises tells him that he needs to be still an listen no matter how many biting insults and wanton words sit on his tongue.

“You’re breathing down my neck, Bakugou,” you inhale a shuddering breath at the sound of his surname being forced through your teeth. Tears lick at the corner of your eyes, your fists shaking by your sides, “I can’t take a shit without you wondering why I’m gone for longer than three minutes. You’ve been so fucking controlling that I can’t even go out with my friends without you needing to make it a momentous occasion!”

“You lied to me, for fucks sake!” Bakugou presses into you, snarling around his words. “You expect me to just forget that? What else have you been lying about?”

Your teeth clatter against one another, rattling around in your head, “I had to! You’ve been this glass case of emotion lately! And you won’t even let me walk home alone! I feel like I have a damn shadow everywhere I go!”

“I’m trying to-”

A thought hits you then, mulling you over so powerfully that you stumble backward, putting distance between the two of you. Your gaze falters from him to the wall, unable to look him in the eyes as you utter the next few syllables, “You don’t trust me?”

Bakugou is quick to refute you, stepping forward to take you out of your haze, “Hell no, baby! Of course, I trust you.”

“You put a goddamn tracker on my phone!” you snap, muscles quivering beneath your skin as your entire body tenses at the statement. Tears settle in your lids, dripping down over your cheek when you force him off of you. “What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He reaches out and wraps you up in his arms forcefully, despite your thrashing and shoving. You tear into him with your words and your touch, trying to punch him even though your range of motion is rather limited. Bakugou puts his chin on the top of your head, bottling you up like liquid rage, holding you together as you try to fall apart.

Bakugou has one hand against the back of your head, hands tucked into the tresses of your hair to cradle your head into the curve of his neck. His other palm rubs up and down the length of your arm as he tries to calm you down from your frenzied state, the loud music and pulsing bodies in the background of the bar doing little to deter your heightened temper.

You gulp as you feel his mouth bury into the crown of your head, kisses sprinkled into your hair like little flowers, petals of kind words tucked against your scalp. Bakugou wants to take you by the hand and drag you home, to curl up with you for the first time since that horrible night in the alleyway, and whisper promises into your skin until he goes hoarse.

You tilt your head upward, face shining bright with tears, nose bumping into his chin, “The-Then why do you-”

Katsuki nudges his nose over yours, a shuddering breath making his lip tremble against the bow of your mouth. A snarling growl rips his throat wide open as every feral, primal instinct buried deep within him is unleashed, “Are you really that dense, dumbass?”

The insult takes you by surprise, facial expression souring as you roll your tongue against your teeth, attempting to swallow the acidic retort sitting on the tip of the muscle in your mouth. Bakugou watches you with a careful eye, making sure that you aren’t going to speak up before he tries to rephrase himself.

“Listen, I just-I…” The words are caught in his throat, raking into his esophagus like shards of glass. Bakugou hates being vulnerable, especially with you. It makes him feel raw, torn open, and uncomfortable. He wants to be the pillar of strength you believe him to be, and how can he prove that he’s worthy of your trust when he feels so weak?

And yet, with you standing in front of him with expectant eyes and shaking hands, he finds it within himself to say what has been plaguing his mind for weeks.

“This shitstorm happened to me too, y’know?”

He sounds so heartbreakingly honest that it makes your skin prickle. A chill tightens like a coil around your spine, spreading shards of ice throughout your veins until your whole body is burning from the frigid feeling, fingertips numb.

Bakugou’s mouth bobs open and shut before he tears a hand through his hair, the other never leaving your body, frustrated at the fact that he can’t think of the right things to say. He looks up at the ceiling, a breath expanding his chest so he’s flush with you.

“Every fucking time I close my eyes, I see that shit all over again.” The veins in his body are prominent as he stresses himself out by trying to speak, “I see you, helpless, because I fucked up and lost focus. I-I couldn’t do anything and you needed me an-”

He can’t force the words out, can’t muster them up from the back of his throat no matter how many times he licks at the inside of his mouth, desperately searching his own skin for the answers. The reality of what might come to fruition when he says his truth out loud is too much to bear, no matter how much he knows he has to have this conversation with you. This is not something you both can just move on from, not without addressing it in all of its ugliness first. He wills the words to come out, closing his eyes and breathing deep. And even still, his mind will not cal.

Katsuki is a raging sea and you are the rickety lifeboat caught in his violent storm.

You swirl in his vortex for a moment longer before prodding him, hand pressed flat against his chest. You brush your thumb over his collarbone, “Katsuki, come on, talk to me. Please.”

Bakugou’s hand flinches by his side and you wonder if he wants to reach out to touch you with the pads of his fingers; to use you like an anchor, weighing him down in the right in the right way to bring him back to the current version of reality.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, pushing him further, knowing what he’s trying to tell you, but needing to hear it from his own tongue.

You step into his space and crowd him into the tight expanse of the hallway, and he can’t draw his eyes away from you despite the shame he feels from the tears currently clouding his vision. Every naysayer in his life comes to him in that very moment, telling him that he’s weak and spineless, completely useless if he can’t do the simplest of tasks. They scream at him, clawing at his heart until he’s bleeding out tears, hands shuddering in pain.

All he wants is to see you smiling again; a genuine, shining smile. He wants to watch as your eyes light up when he kisses you, or when he touches you here and there, casually in passing. Bakugou misses the old kindling the two of you had before that fateful night all those weeks ago. There was a familiarity that now feels lost in translation, wafting somewhere between the space separating the both of you.

You’re begging him in his ear now, words lodged like knives into his heart, a new syllable signifying a new blade, “Why are you doing this, Katsuki? Please, tell me!”

That is the last one – the proverbial blade that shoves its way through is spine to split him in two. He can’t help the way his voice shatters when he finally breaks, falling forward on weak knees, “To fucking protect you! Goddammit!”

You take a short step backward, shuffling away from him at his sudden furious outburst, the change in volume startling you. Goosebumps pebble on your skin and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you, settling in your stomach to eat away at your resolve, that same parasite from earlier flaring up all over again. You swallow the pent-up emotion in your throat, but Bakugou isn’t finished, not yet. Now that he’s finally been ripped open, he can’t stop the flow.

“Every night you’d get further and further away from me,” his hands are flexing at his sides, knuckles turning white, little crackling explosions lighting like a warning sign, “And I can’t fucking get over this shit, okay?!”

The familiar ashen sweetness lingers in the air at the bare minimum usage of his quirk, but it’s comforting in a way. You breathe it in and try to stave off any tears from stemming down your cheeks. It is his turn to crumble, to fall down at your feet and beg for you to help him repair the gaping wound in his chest.

As you watch him fall apart, it’s physically painful to witness the way his body quivers, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into use. His lower lip, full and pink, is wobbling while he tries to form coherent sentences. You’ve never wanted to reach out and touch him more, to calm him with a tender brush of your knuckles over his cheek, or a hand flattened onto the plane of his chest. But he is too far away from you now, distant in the worst way.

It’s like he’s a figurative bomb, building up and ready to detonate. Each passing moment only fills him with more gunpowder, stuffing his throat until he’s suffocating under the notion that he can’t save you. Has he ever been capable of keeping you from harm?

“I-I was weak,” his voice breaks and so does his façade, tears brimming in the ducts of his reddened lids, “I let that fucker get the best of me, and i-it cost you. You were hurt because I couldn’t protect you.”

Bakugou’s palms shudder at his sides, fingers curling around smoke. You want to step forward, to reassure him that he is the furthest thing from weak that you have ever seen, but he cowers from you when you get too close. He reminds you of a caged animal finally set free, unsure of where to step, how to breathe all of the fresh air at once. Almost as if he is withholding himself from you now that his confession has broken through the bars around his heart, echoed loud for you to hear.

“Throwing yourself into danger isn’t going to help,” you answer him, “and neither is suffocating me.”

The fire fueling your bones from earlier returns at the realization that he has been distancing himself from you on purpose. You assumed it had been a subconscious decision based on the trauma experienced from the encounter with Awase, but you never would have guessed he was actively choosing to ignore you, especially physically. And now, with his hands shaking at his sides, you are beginning to wonder if he feels the same pull that you do, the desire to let your palms search one another’s skin to find the answers to your innermost questions.

“The only thing I’m any good at is fighting!” Bakugou falls back against the wall, eyes downcast in defeat as his shoulders slump forward. He opens his palms in front of his body, flexing his fingers. “All I can do is work as hard as I possibly can to be the best. I have to be the best.”

He curls his fingers back to fists, fury coursing through his veins like fire, accumulating in his palms to a head, a bomb settled in the cracks and crevices of his skin. “All I can focus on right now is getting stronger, to be a hero that you can trust to keep you safe.”

When his eyes snap up to meet yours, there’s a flame burning deep in his vermilion irises that makes them look alight, the bright amber color in contrast to their usual hue. It frightens you slightly, sending a tremor down your spine until you are curling your toes.

Bakugou’s hands creak as he turns them to fists, knuckles turning white, “I’ll be the best, even if it kills me.”

The very permanent word involving mortality turns your knees to jelly, bones grinding against one another in a desperate attempt to keep yourself upright. Your throat closes, emotion billowing like smoke in your esophagus until it is pushing into every available space, effectively choking you where you stand.

“Y-You don’t have to be so, so,” you struggle to find the words, breath hard to come by as you gasp for air, “so-”

“So what?!” Bakugou’s voice is patronizing now as he grows defensive at your tone, taking a downward turn to the other side of kind. He grits his teeth and you allow yourself to see him for what he truly is in this moment – a frightened child, begging for a savior, or at least some solid ground. He grimaces, shaking his head, “I couldn’t protect you when I needed to. And if I can’t keep you safe, what else am I good for?”

Silence hangs between the two of you at the heaviness of his words, creating an even further distance as his words settle like embers on your heart.

You want to brush the cinders away, blowing the ash into the wind and along with it, the horrific memories from the past few weeks. His name sits on the tip of your tongue, scratching at the muscle and begging to be freed from the cage of your teeth. Your fingertips ache at your sides, keening towards him with the desire to find something to feel, some tactile version of reality to reaffirm that you have not lost everything. The heaviness in your feet keeps you from shuffling forward, tucking yourself into his body and promising him that you’ll never see him as anything short of incredible.

“See?” Bakugou’s voice shatters into another wave of jagged pieces with every longing look you give him, tossing his arms in the air to show his defeat, “And then you go and do shit like this, where you look at me like I put the fuckin’ sun in the sky every morning.”

He’s wheezing the words out now, manic movements jerking his arms and shoulders, praying that his palms might go off in the middle of this club so you both can get booted out and forced to go home. Maybe then he can break through the barrier of how he has been feeling to show you why he’s treated you like a child.

“How the hell am I supposed to live up to this pillar of greatness you’ve made me out to be? This perfect image of me you have in your mind is a lie,” Bakugou is begging you for an answer with his gestures. His hands reach towards you, never touching, eyebrows cocked upward as his eyes search your face for a secret message hidden beneath your skin. “You think that I can do no wrong, that I’ll always be your hero. And now that I’ve fucked that up, and you still look at me the same exact way, how am I supposed to live with that? With being a fraud?”

Bakugou blinks and two identical tear droplets seep over the corners of his lids, tracking down his cheeks as he gasps for air, “I-I can’t help it when you look at me like I have all the answers when I-I can’t even fuckin’ figure out how I-”

You cover him like sunlight, warm and safe. He feels your mouth against his, your hands on his face and chest and its like you’ve pulled him from where he was floating midair back down to the ground again. Bakugou’s body is flush between your torso and the wall, either side of him pressed into something. He is hot, too hot, like his body temperature has skyrocketed. Sweat trickles down his spine, sticking his shirt to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you part from him.

Your nose brushes against his, the bow of your lips still touching when you speak, “I haven’t been very considerate of you. I was too wrapped up in the way I was feeling that I didn’t stop to consider how it has been affecting you.”

You palm at his face, fingertips fawning over his cheek bones and brows and temples. Bakugou’s jaw is quivering, hands still dormant by his sides, flexed until his palms are splotched red with effort. You run your hand up from his chest to his shoulder, kneading the heel into his muscles to try and relax his body.

“Katsuki,” you call to him. “Look at me.”

And he listens.

The trail of your fingertips on his forearm feels like gasoline, trickling down his skin slowly but surely, making its way to his palms where his skin will act like a detonator. Bakugou grinds his teeth together as he tries to stay focused in on your face, the effort from it all makes the vein on his forehead protrude, thudding profusely beneath his skin.

“Take me home.”

--

The walk up the stairs to your door is tense, quiet.

Bakugou turns the key into the lock, the door opening with a gentle click. The two of you step inside, your bags strewn on the countertop and your shoes kicked off near the mat. Your hands wring in front of you as he faces away, the only visible thing being his backside.

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words take you by surprise, shaking you to your core. You stumble backward, hand clutched over your heart when it starts to sting, “Wh-Why do you think-”

“Do you know what it’s like to have people’s lives put into your hands, and then to fuck it all up?” Bakugou turns to look at you, hands glowing with the threat of his quirk, “To put the one person you care about more than fucking breathing into danger?”

His jaw quivers, “You didn’t see the look in your eyes when he was putting you through that shit. You were looking to me for help and I was fucking welded to a goddamn wall!”

You reach out to press your fingertip into the center of his palm, diffusing the built-up nitroglycerin in the crevices of his skin. Bakugou’s shoulders shudder, his eyes widening at your touch. You force a smile, but it does not reach your eyes, and he notices.

“Hey,” you call to him, your other hand drifting up to cup his cheek, trying to turn him towards you. “Stop that. Look at me.”

Bakugou’s eyes stop flitting around and focus on you, connecting your gazes. He looks frightened again, like a scared child. All you want is to hold him tight and put him back together again until he feels whole.

You push yourself up onto your toes, nudging your nose over his cheek slowly. You’re taken aback when you feel his hesitant touch dredge over your hip, thumb just beneath your top. It’s the most intimate feeling you’ve received from him in weeks, and it sends every atom of you on high alert. Your spine tingles as you stutter-step forward until you’re pressed into him.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, fanning out over him in a wave of heat that makes him shiver. You feel your heart ready to explode from within the confines of your chest, begging to be let free as it tries to claw its way out of your ribcage. You can’t look away from him, it’s like he’s turned into a magnet for your body.

As you graze over his chest with your other hand, the one against his cheek brushes up into his hair to card through the blonde strands. Your thumb catches against the stubble of his undercut just behind his pierced ears and it makes you smile, remembering the conversation where you coerced him into getting the new haircut in the first place. And now he can’t go a couple weeks without getting it shaped back up.

“Kiss me,” you plead, your touch like that of a siren, calling him deeper into the water, “please, Katsuki.”

In spite of him suffocating you mentally and situationally, you know that he’s been distant physically. It wasn’t hard to realize the shift in affections, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to his wayward glances and casual touches. Once he started to withdraw from you, you began to worry but your own anxiety wound so tightly around your body that it drowned out any other inhibitions that might have drawn you closer to asking questions. Bakugou has never been one to bare his emotions anyway.

Every morsel of him wants to dive headfirst into your waters, to drink you in through his nose and mouth until it is only the essence of you that remains. And yet there is something holding him back, like strings attached to his shoulders, forcing him to stay still.

It is that very look in your eyes right now that keeps him at bay. The reality that you’ve not tainted your view of him makes his stomach churn. You should hate him for letting Awase take advantage of you. You should want to slap him across the face and punch him in the gut. You should want to rip your fingers into his chest and slay him where he stands, cutting a gaping hole where his heart once was, filling it with a black ooze that might represent your disdain and disappointment.

Anything other than this overwhelming prideful look gleaming in your eyes that tells him he could do no wrong.

The sight of it brings tears to his eyes and he has to look away, the weight of it all too stifling as he attempts to breathe again. Bakugou struggles with oxygen, feeling lightheaded as you stand so near to him.

“Look at me,” you beg of him, your own voice sounding raw. You swallow every possible reticence you might have in this moment and focus all of your energy on him, “I love you, okay? There’s nothing you could do to change that, Katsuki. Nothing, so-”

You’re cut off mid-sentence by the familiar feel of his lips, warm and full against your mouth. He has captured you entirely, his hands on your face as he steps in closer to you. You shudder with tears at the sensation of him kissing you for the first time in weeks. A wash of warmth seeps through your body, starting at your head and curling around your spin until it has reached your toes. You feel lightheaded at it all, so wrapped up in him that you can’t focus on anything else.

Bakugou’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his body squatted in front of you to push himself closer into every crevice of available skin. You dip your hands beneath his top, the pads of your fingers mapping out the contours of his muscular frame.

“Fuck,” he murmurs between your teeth, your tongue catching the word by lapping against his gums.

His hands find your backside, squeezing the supple skin like his life depends on it. You moan, rolling your hips forward. Your mind is foggy, your entire being in a haze, at the passionate way his hands obsess over your body.

When he taps your hips with his thumbs, you know what it means. You leap upward, his forearms catching your thighs to wrap you around his waistline. You don’t break away from kissing him. You’re not sure after this if he might retreat back into himself, so you full well intend on milking him for all that he’s worth in every aspect of the word.

The next thing you feel is the cool sheets beneath your steaming backside, sweat making your shirt cling to your body. Your hand sifts through Bakugou’s hair and he nips at your lower lip, relishing in the way the moans fall freely from your tongue.

He sits back on his thighs, tugging his shirt over his head, when he mumbles, “Shirt. Off. Now.”

The momentary burst of authority makes your cunt clench beneath the lace of your underwear. Your eyes go wide, but you do not hesitate to pull the offending fabric from your upper half. Bakugou has settled between your thighs when you can finally see him again. He makes quick work of your bra, flinging the garment across the room carelessly before swooping in to begin sucking at your chest.

He tweaks one piqued nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the other side of you preoccupied with his mouth. You whine, bucking your hips upward. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you can make out the impression of his bulging erection. The thought of getting to feel his dick again makes you keen, reaching up to thread your hand into his hair, the other palm digging fingernails into the thick, corded muscle of his shoulders.

“Damn, Princess,” he murmurs as he releases your nipple with a pop. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your breath shudders out of your lungs, fanning over his hair to make the strands shake in the darkness of your bedroom. You wrap your legs around his midsection to try and grind yourself up into his clothed length.

Bakugou slips his hand beneath your shorts, unbuttoning them swiftly as his middle finger finds your clit immediately. You can’t help it when your whole body goes rigid, the once lost sensation of his hands on your lower half returning in a blinding wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Please, Katsuki,” you force yourself to look him in the eyes even though you think you’re seeing stars, “I just want you, please. I want you in me.”

He’s hesitant when he looks down at you, eyes stuttering over which of your features to focus on first. The tip of his middle finger is brushed up against your slick folds, not delving in just yet. Your chest is heaving, eyes clouded with the threat of tears while you palm at him, desperate for every inch of his skin to be mapped out beneath your fingerprints.

“You have me,” he whispers, cracking voice barely audible. He nods, slipping his finger slowly between the walls of your cunt, “You have me, baby.”

As he starts to coil his finger within you, the squelching sound of his digit and your pussy echoing off the walls, he looks you directly in the eyes. His free hand is near your head but you wish he’d touch you with it, your body insatiably itching for his next pass. You lick your lips and go to beg for him again, unwilling to sit through the torture of his fingers, but he stops you with a kiss.

“Let me do this, let me make you feel good.”

You are speechless, left only with a gaping mouth that is claimed by his tongue. He licks at your teeth and cheeks, whining for you to reciprocate while his finger still pumps in and out of you, knuckle dragging in a tantalizing way against your smooth walls. You hold him as tightly as you can by the neck, keeping him anchored to you, the fear of him running away from you again settling like a lead anchor in your belly.

It doesn’t take long for him to push you to the edge of your first orgasm. You’ve been denied of him for so long that you’re sure you could come undone under any circumstance at this point. But still, his thick digits curled up in the heat of you, coaxing forth the first white-hot wave of pleasure makes your body shudder.

“Katsuki,” you pant, rolling your hips in time with his finger’s thrusts.

The coil within your stomach starts to bunch up, so you clench around his finger. You whine, throwing your head back, jaw hung slack. Bakugou kisses up the column of your neck, “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it for me, yeah? You’re so pretty when you come apart.”

His encouragement is what throws you over the edge. You’ve missed the sound of his timbre coaching you into orgasm after orgasm. You cry out, your voice breaking, and your hips fall slack against the mattress as the pleasure digs into you. The silvery strands of your slick coat his fingers, but he doesn’t part from you until he’s sure that he’s lured every last whimper from your lips, every last wash of arousal from your hips.

You have him by the neck, digging your fingers in to pull him back towards your mouth for another drawn out kiss. Your nose and teeth clash, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here and he’s got his hands on you. The way your body sings at his caress does not go unnoticed by him, or rather he relishes in it, basking in the sound of your wanton moans and the reaction of your begging limbs.

“Please, Katsuki,” you’re grabbing for him as he pulls away. Your fingers desperately cling to his skin, digging in and forcing half-moon prints into the tanned flesh, “I need you, please.”

The words throw him back to those moments in the alleyway when your eyes screamed the phrase you’re speaking now. He was powerless to help you then, but he can be the one to save you now.

Bakugou stands to his feet and shuffles out of his pants, his cock throbbing between his thighs when he pulls away his briefs. You try to tug down your shorts but your body is so weak and you can’t force your brain to communicate with your extremities, so you end up pouting, hot tears clouding your eyes in frustration.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose over your cheek before kissing you long enough for you to forget about your predicament. Your body molds to his intentions, hands finding his undercut to sift through the short hair there, his skin providing you with some sense of calm despite the raging emotions thudding like thunder in your brain.

He gently tugs down your shorts, peeling them from your ankles before depositing them on the floor. Bakugou runs his hand down his cock, using his bead of pre-come and what remains of your arousal on his hand to lubricate the skin. You’re salivating at the sight of him, inflamed red cockhead ready to split your cunt wide open. You’ve missed the familiarity of him inside of you, and your body notices because despite just having a spectacular orgasm that should have put you to bed for some time, your pussy flutters as a new wave of slick trickles down to the sheets.

The tip of his cock opens your pussy up enough that you’re keening forward, pleading to take more of him with the canting of your hips. You whimper out beseeching words, eyes searching his face as your hands try to find purchase on his shoulders. He shakes his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “Hush, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

The duality of his words is not lost on you.

Your jaw hangs open slightly, eyes wide as you look up at him. Bakugou grips the headboard with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your heat. If you look close enough, you can see the threat of glassy tears washing over his pretty red irises, making them look like little jewels in the moonlight filtering through your bedroom windows.

“Katsuki,” you whimper his name like a prayer as he slowly sheaths himself between your folds. He grunts when the base of his cock meets the lips of your pussy, eyelids fluttering somewhere between open and shut at the sensation.

He drops his head, gritting his teeth, “Fuck, I missed you.”

A relieved, broken laugh shakes your throat, the smile left behind making Bakugou see stars. You palm at his chest, “I missed you too, so much.”

The two of you have still been together every day, even sleeping in the same bed, and yet you’ve been so distant it was heartbreaking. You feel the shards of your shattered heart slowly piecing back together with each thrust he throttles into you, his hips slamming into your thighs.

It’s intense, but somehow graceful. Bakugou is not just ramming his cock into you for the sake of doing it, but he’s proving to you with every stroke of him that he’s never leaving your side again. He’s gripping the headboard so hard that his nails are leaving scratches, but you’re more focused with the tantalizing snap of his hips, the drag of his cock and those prominent veins as they stimulate your pussy even further.

His jaw quivers, hands white knuckling as he clutches the headboard even harder, picking up his pace to start building that starburst in your belly. He’s unwilling to let his hands go near you now that he’s got himself sheathed completely.

He doesn’t deserve every part of you, not yet.

Bakugou’s chest twists as he realizes he hasn’t earned his honor back; he hasn’t won the prize of feeling your skin under the sensitive pads of his fingertips while he’s fucking into you with his aching cock.

His breath stutters, heart clenching within the confine of his ribs, at the sight of you, your irises focused on only him. Your pupils are blown wider with each thrust, black swallowing the color of your irises as you reach that peak subservient headspace. His hips move slow but with purpose, his cock pulsing within your walls as you clamp down on him.

Snapping his hips up into you, the heat of it all starts to overwhelm him and he can’t breathe. The mix of your warm skin and the absolute adoration held for him in your eyes is too stimulating once you tighten your cunt around him, trapping his dick in your heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, stilling his hips as his nails screech against the headboard.

Your hands are on him in an instance, exploring his chest and shoulders. You lick your lips and force your ass to stay put on the bed, breathing heavy through your lips. You swallow and your throat bobs, only proving further to him how absolutely enamored with him you appear to be.

“Katsuki,” you whisper into the void, cheeks warming with a blush.

Bakugou shakes his head and with the ferocity that he’s gripping the headboard, he wonders if your nailbeds can bleed. He bites down harshly on his lower lip, listening to your pleading calls for a moment too long before responding, “I-I don’t-”

He can’t form coherent sentences, not when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and you’re gazing up at him like he’s just gotten back from hanging the moon. He squints hard, eyes filling up with tears, “I can’t, fuck.”

“Hey,” your breathless voice catches him in midair, anchoring him back from the dull hallucination that he could never find his way back to you. You reach up to gently press your palm onto his cheek, the cooling touch of your hands doing enough to dispel some of the heat on his cheeks. You push away the sweaty locks of blonde hair sticking to his forehead so you can see his eyes in their full clarity.

Katsuki’s chin wobbles as he looks down at you, forcing his eyes to stay trained in on your face no matter how much he wants to look away. He still doesn’t believe he deserves that look you hold for him within your gaze; the way you tell him that he’s nothing short of a pillar of strength in your mind with a simple look is absolutely baffling.

“Hey,” you call again, tender tone striking a chord in his heart.

Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes, the height of his cheekbones, and you smile at his fragility. Bakugou’s eyes flit around to everything but you, overactive and unable to focus on you when you’re looking at him like he’s painted the stars in the night sky.

His conscience berates him as he lays with his cock buried deep into your pussy, his hips flush with yours, the doubt kicking him in the ribs to remind him that he must be nothing short of a piece of shit – how could he let you fall into someone else’s hands? How could he be so careless? How could he-

“Katsuki,” you rub your hands over his face once more, patiently pulling him from the recesses of his toiling mind, “Come back to me.”

Bakugou’s pupils dilate but somehow you manage to bring his attention back around to your face, connecting your gazes once more. You are struggling to maintain your composure between his cock pulsing within you and the lack of his hands on your skin, your body stimulated but still wanting, but you whimper the words, “Will you kiss me?”

In that simple sentence, Bakugou realizes that he could never truly run from you.

Tears drip down from his cheeks onto your neck, pooling at the little cavity created by your collarbones. You smile up at him, brushing at the droplets as they drip down from his eyelids, cradling his face as he makes the decision to start running back to you instead of sprinting away.

“I love you,” he chokes out the words before claiming your lips with his searing hot kiss.

Your hands dip into the curves of his hips, prodding him to move forward while your lips sink deeper into his. Bakugou groans at the sensation, eyes rolling behind his closed lids, and slowly his palms find your body.

It’s almost like the first time he touched you, his fingertips searching every inch of available skin as if it were new to him. He rolls his thumbs over your ribs, counting each one under his breath as he fucks into you slowly. You whimper when he bites your lower lip, your jaw slack as he starts a biting path of kisses down from your chin to your earlobe.

“Katsuki,” your toes curl when he bottoms out within you, the tip of his cock brushing that delicate, spongy spot at the back of your core. Your nails drag salaciously down his shoulders, drawing little beads of blood in their wake.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down harshly on your neck. He chokes on a sob before licking and kissing your collarbones, “I love you.”

Bakugou is fucking into you steadily now, his hips slamming into you at just the right angle that the vein running along the underside of his dick drags against your folds. You clamp down on his cock when you feel it begin to twitch again, his cockhead brushing your cervix. He’s sniffling, breath catching at the sound, “I love you so goddamn much. I don’t fucking deserve you.”

He’s overcome with emotion but it only spurs him forward faster. His hips slam mercilessly into you, every rut telling you what he cannot coherently say with words. And you accept his wordless confessions with the tightness of your core, the openness of your eyes.

You respond in fervor, your lips singing his praises as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm curling into a hot fire in the pit of you. It’s like lava has dripped down every vein in your body, lighting your skin on fire with its proverbial heat. You whine, your back arching in the perfect way for his mouth to latch onto your pert nipple.

“Katsu’, please, fill me up,” you whimper, palming at his injured back, finding scars and wounds alike, “I want your come, won’t you come in me?”

He’s nodding around your nipple, affirming you non-verbally, but the gentle tug of his teeth makes you whine again. You are completely distraught with the pounding of his cock into your tight, wet heat, the obscene sounds reverberating off of the walls only to bounce back at you like an echo.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, hot tears mixing with the saliva that covers your breast, “such a good girl for me. Takin’ me so well. Gonna take this load?”

You can’t help the way you nod ferociously, pleading with him through both words and actions. You whine, a shuddering of your throat making the sound much more desperate than you intended, “Please, Katsuki. I just want you to stuff me full, I want to be full of you.”

The last time your cunt was full, it was with another man’s seed.

Thinking about it makes your tongue turn heavy and your stomach sour. You grit your teeth and the scent of ashen sweetness fills your nostrils, taking over every thought you’d had previously. You can’t linger your memories on the way something made you feel before, you will destroy your mind and your pride.

All you can focus on is scrubbing yourself clean with Katsuki.

He washes over you like a soothing balm, the heat of his body burning away any trace of anything else from any time before this moment now. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed by him – his body, his breath, his scent. You want to drown in him, only fulfilled through his means for the rest of your days, to dive headfirst into his pain and break through until it is only the two of you left.

You lick at him, the familiar taste of his skin settling on your tongue as you lap over flesh and bone. You beg for his hands to touch every inch of you with wanton moans falling from your lips, scrubbing away at the nightmares and replacing them with the fiery blonde with a quipping tongue to match his superpower. If you thought you might could handle it, you’d ask him to blast you with his quirk, to burn away what is left from before until there is only the now.

“I love you,” you whisper into the dark, “It’s only you, Katsuki. Always.”

Bakugou’s mouth is licking at your neck when you feel his hips still, the telltale sign of his release begging to be set free. You palm at his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes because you can’t hold it in anymore, the words making your chest swell until you think you might burst wide open, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He thrusts forward in time with your chanting, his lower lip quivering with desire as he pumps himself forward at a much faster pace. One of his thumbs reaches down to brush against your clit, stimulating you until you can’t speak in full sentences, let alone syllables. You grit your teeth together and beg for his load, “Fill me up, Katsuki.”

Your words mixed with the tone of your voice are what push him over the edge, the cusp of his release washing over the both of you. Bakugou’s hips stutter, sloppily fucking into you as he chases that blinding pleasure only you can provide him.

“Take it, Princess,” he murmurs into your lips as he claims you by painting your walls white, the final part of you that needed to be wiped clean.

Katsuki’s hands rest on either side of your head as he holds up his quivering body, spent from effort and emotion. You brush your thumb over the tear-stained parts of his face, clearing his skin of what remains from his vulnerable confessions, no evidence left behind. He can start anew, pretend that he never bared his soul to you only mere moments ago.

His eyes never leave you, drinking you in religiously as you blink slowly, irises soaking up every inch of your precious expression. Your pupils shrink enough for him to see the color of your irises clearly, tilting one of his hands upward so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your lids flutter closed at the tender sensation, losing yourself in the feel of his fingerprints.

When you blink your eyes open, you reach upward to tenderly cup his cheeks between the palms of your hands, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” he leans his head into your hand, nudging his nose over the swell of the heel. Your pulse thuds in his ears and he can tell that you’re nervous based on the pace.

Your voice is thick when you whisper the words that have always rang true in your heart, but you’ve never said aloud because they seemed so pointless. He hears them every day from citizens, begging him for autographs and screaming his name when they see him on patrol. You’ve been afraid that they would fall hollow on deaf ears, futile and empty. But your heart squeezes within your chest and you know that it doesn’t matter anymore. The two of you have learned how precious a few moments can be.

“You’re my hero, Katsuki.”

Your thumbs run back and forth over the skin of his cheeks, seeking out the heat and also providing him what you hope feels like comfort. His cock twitches within the walls of your aching cunt, mouth hung open slightly, just enough for you to see the pink of his tongue.

You nod, sniffling as tears press hot into the back of your eyelids, “You’ve always been my hero, no matter what. Nothing will change that.”

Bakugou kisses the inside of your palm before leaning forward to press his lips to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying to communicate something between the volley of your tongues. You lean up and wrap your arm around his neck when he snakes his hands up the expanse of your back. He’s fully pressed into you now, your bodies flush with one another as he kisses you.

Secret words are passed back and forth from your throat to his, emotion swelling in your chest, begging to burst the longer he’s pressed into you. You curl your hand into his hair, anchoring him to you despite the growing heat billowing in the lack of space between your bodies. Bakugou licks at the seam of your lips and you let him in, you’ll always let him in, your hips rolling forward to meet him at every juncture of your bones.

And that’s how you fall asleep that night, entwined in such a way that neither of you can tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it! drop me an ask if you did!! 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The Confession

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Super Angst

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Okay, so I told you guys I had an idea and that it was new to me and my blog. TA-DA! I am super excited to see how far I can take this and how I can make this work. I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope this isn’t trash. I have no idea how long this will be, so let’s play it by ear. Tell me what you think. Like it? Hate it? Ways to improve?

Note 2: So we have a series cover. What do you guys think? I don’t love, love it but I like it. 🤷🏽‍♀️ 

Note 3: I tagged everyone who asked for forever tags and those from quarantine thinking you may like this. If you want off, shoot me a message and it’ll be done. Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--kinda***

Previous Chapters: 1  | 

You didn’t sleep one wink after that. Who could sleep after that? You sat up just staring out to nowhere. When you weren’t sitting, you paced your apartment like some crazy woman. When that became too much, you just flipped the tv channels, never staying on one thing long enough to comprehend what was happening. You were restless, and that restlessness freaked you out.

There were so many times you held your phone and just stared at the exchange in a hyper state of anxiety, wondering if he’d send more. After the final message, though, he didn’t send any more. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. You then began to wonder why he hadn’t sent any other messages. You wondered if he was drunk and just saying random things, or if he’d meant to send them to someone else.

 By the time the sun was rising, you hadn’t slept a wink. You were wired, mentally exhausted, and completely confused. You were not functioning normally. It took you forever to get dressed and ready to get out the door. By the time you got to your office, you were almost two hours late. That two-hour push back was not ideal. It meant your day would be two hours longer and you had to work triple time to catch up. Thankfully, the only thing that was thrown out of whack was your ability to have any breaks. When you finished one meeting, you immediately had to jump into the next meeting or task. You did your best to stay focused, but it was difficult.

Once the time the normal workday was finished, you were still left with so much to do. The event was two days away, and there were so many things to iron out. Every time you were in the middle of one thing in came the memory of the text messages from last night. That resulted in you rehashing the whole thing before you groaned and got back on track only to repeat the cycle ten minutes later. You heard the chime on your phone go off, and terror stilled you. What if it was Chris, you thought. Five minutes of internal turmoil passed before you took a deep breath and dug your phone out from inside your desk drawer. 

Scott’s message was a relief. After a few deep breaths, you responded with a straightforward lie.

You thought about if you should tell him all about your last twenty-four hours. Chris was your best friend in the world, but you also adored his siblings. With the amount of time you spent with Chris, Scott was almost always around. They had a close relationship, and through your childhoods, you’d gotten close to Scott too. As you began to type to tell him what happened, you paused and deleted it all. You still didn’t know what last night was. You were too chicken shit to text him back to find out. It was like you believed if you just didn’t acknowledge it, then nothing happened, and nothing would change.

Unlikely, but possible, you thought.

He was right. It used to annoy the heck out of you, but you’d come to accept it. He’d always tried to get you out and moving so many mornings before the sun even rose. You were always the one to refuse and try to hide and lock him out. Nothing kept him out, though; he always found a way in to drag you out of bed. 

Highly likely and possible. As you typed it, you screwed your face. You’d come to terms with the fact of Chris being a bit of a—free spirit. You’d been around to see all of his girlfriends, the ones that lasted for a year or more, and even the ones that were just months; all of his flings, and all of his one-night stands. You never judged; it wasn’t your place, and honestly, as long as everyone was consenting, you didn’t care. He was a man with needs. His confession flashed through your mind again, and it swirled with the knowledge of him sleeping around. It didn’t make any sense.

Once you shot off the text, you began to wonder if he was okay. Yeah, there were times he got so busy he just didn’t respond to messages until later but usually if his family called back to back he’d answer. Maybe he was with some girl and too enthralled in their sexcapade that he just couldn’t get around to answering. You began to type a message off to Chris to check if he was okay, but halfway through, you deleted the entire thing. 

“Jesus Chris, Y/N. Thirty-something years of friendship, and now you can’t talk to the man?” You groaned in frustration as you dropped your head to your desk with a heavy “thud.” When your phone went off in your hands, you yelped out in the quiet office, scaring yourself half to death.

That was all it took for your heart to begin a thunderous pace. With bugged eyes, you just stared at the flashing dots that signified he was writing a message.

You bit your bottom lip hard, so hard you tasted the copper-like liquid on your tongue. You weren’t sure just what you were feeling, but you knew it was more than one emotion. Feeling like his words were your sustenance, you inched the phone closer to your face and waited as the dots appeared again.

You gaped at the phone as if it were his face. Just what the fuck were you supposed to say? He knew you better than that. He knew that if you didn’t know what to say, you would remain silent. He also knew that if you didn’t respond, you were pissed. Did he think you were pissed?

They came in like rapid fire. He was texting as he thought. He did it often with you. You did too. 

Panic set in as you realized it was true. “Oh, fuck!”

 It was then your phone began to ring, showing Chris’s face on the screen. Yelping, you accidentally tossed your phone in the air and saw the error of your ways in seconds. As you tried to catch it, it bounced off your hands a few times only to slip through your fingers and bounce on your carpeted floor. When it landed face down, the door opened.

 “Are you okay?”

 You were frozen half laid across your desk with a look of horror on your face. 

“Yeah. I’m—fine.” You did your best to sound as believable as possible as you straightened yourself before you stood to walk over to your friend, Irisa. She bent and picked up your phone, then held it out to you as you approached.

 “I don’t appreciate having to hunt you down. We had plans,” she scolded.

 You’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to meet her at her place to grab a bite to eat.

 “I’m sorry, I forgot. Things have been crazy today.” Irisa rolled her eyes though you knew she’d forgive you.

 “The only place we can go now that we missed our reservation is Baltic to take advantage of your forever table there.

 “Why are you complaining? You know you love Baltic’s food.”

 “I do, but I wanted to try that new sushi spot tonight. God knows the next time you’ll have time for me might not be New Year,” Irisa whined. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you walked back to your desk to gather your things.

Before you put your phone away, you saw another message.

Now he wants to talk. Hadn’t he done enough talking?

Shaking it off, you dropped your phone in your back and turned back to Irisa.

“Why are you so dramatic?”

 “Maybe I learned from the best,” she finished as the two of you walked out of your office.

 You tried to stay present in the cab while the two of you made your way to dinner. You tried to listen to Irisa talk about her day and the blissful bubble she found herself in with her boyfriend, Callum. You knew they’d make a good match; that was why you set them up. Two years later, they were still going strong. Irisa and Callum liked to tag along with you when you hung out with Chris. You didn’t mind; it was always a good time. Annoyance filled you because no matter what, everything usually led back to him. It felt strange to leave him on read. You were always talking throughout the day.

 When you arrived at Baltic, the hostess Bree recognized you and gave you a welcoming smile.

“How are you, Y/N?”

 “I’m good. How are you?”

 “Great. You know I love this place, plus I just got a raise.” You high fived her.

 “Congratulations. You know this place would crumble without you.”

 She laughed loudly and shook her head. “I’m glad the boss isn’t here to hear you say that.” You smiled and allowed her to lead you and Irisa to your seats.

 “Your usual.”

 “Thank you, Bree.” She nodded and walked away back to the hostess desk.

 “I still think she--,” Irisa began before you cut her off with a loud, obnoxious sound. You didn’t want to hear it at all.

 “Okay, fine, I’ll shut up.”

 “Finally,” you joked.

 For the next several minutes, the two of you skimmed the menu and got to talking about the plethora of random things you did when you got to together. You never stayed on one topic for too long, but you always came back to those same topics. Everyone always teased the two of you of your scatterbrain antics, but neither of you cared. This was how the two of you worked.

 An hour later, you and Irisa were deep in plates of food. Since you’d skipped lunch and all breaks, you were starving, and it was apparent thanks to the multitude of plates that were spread out across the table.

 “So, is everything planned for tomorrow?”

 You nodded your answer as you tried to finish the calamari in your mouth. “That had been planned for a while now. What kind of planner would I be if I was still preparing twenty-four hours to the event?”

 “Girl, a simple yes or no would have sufficed,” Irisa shot back.

 She was right. You were still wound tightly thanks to no sleep, stressful conditions, and a particular best friend of yours.

 “Sorry, yes. It’s planned.”

 “Is Chris making the trip back for it?”

 Doing your best to keep a neutral face, you shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t think so. He’s dead in the middle of working.”

 “Still, it’s an important day for you. He’s always been there for you. I doubt he’d miss it.”

 You thought about her words. She was right. He’d been there for every important event in your life—never missed one no matter what. Thinking back again to his messages and your silence, you doubted he’d come. You shrugged and casually brushed it off.

 “If he’s there, he’s there. If not, eh.”

 Irisa studied you with a quizzical look on her face. She’d no doubt heard the over flippant tone in your voice and was now putting on her investigator hat.

 “You sure you’re okay?”

 After taking a demure sip of your margarita, you smiled at her, hoping it reassured her. “I’m good, I promise.”

 Irisa studied you for a few more moments before she nodded and went back to eating.

 By the time you got home that night is was nearing midnight. You were dead on your feet, and thanks to the six margaritas you’d had, the only thing you wanted was your bed. You quickly stripped then face dived into your plush blankets, pushing everything out of your mind hoping to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

 ~~~~~~~

 The pounding on the door was what jarred you from your sleep. You rolled and crashed to the hard floor.

 “Ouuuch!”

 When you snapped your head up and the time on the alarm clock beside your bed came into focus, you screeched. It was eleven-ten. Bolting to your feet, you hurried down the stairs to the front door to let in the hired hair and makeup team and your assistant Aamal.

 “We’ve been standing here for almost twenty minutes, Y/N.”

“I know Aamal. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened. Come, come in.”

 The team of five walked into your townhouse and began setting up. Aamal held out the black garment bag to you. “You’re lucky I called them this morning. You were supposed to get this yesterday.”

 “I know, everything is crazy. I forgot. I’m gonna be late. Give me twelve minutes to take a shower.”

 You hurried up the steps to your bathroom. You’d gotten good at taking twelve-minute showers and still being squeaky clean. While you showered, you blamed the margaritas you’d had for this predicament you found yourself in now. If you’d kept it at one, then you would have woken up on time, and you wouldn’t need to hurry to make it to the party for twelve. At this rate, you had no idea if you were going to make it at all.

 By the time the makeup and hair team began primping and priming you, it was eleven-thirty. You decided to change the planned hairstyle from a sleep updo to a mixture of loose and flowy curls. It would still go with the outfit, but it would take less time to accomplish. Then entire time your foot shook. It was a nervous tick that you’d had since you were five years old, a tick you still hadn’t outgrown. It was a tick only a select few knew what it meant. You were close to losing your shit.

 When you were stuck in traffic eight minutes from the venue, it was a little after twelve-fifteen.

 “Calm down. No one is supposed to arrive until twelve-thirty anyway. You just like to be early,” Aamal voiced.

 “I have to look over the setting and give any last-minute changes.”

 “I don’t know who plans their own party,” Aamal scoffed.

 You were meticulous and knew what you liked. You didn’t want to hire anyone for something you could do for free. Plus, it gave you yet another opportunity to showcase your knack for this career you chose to be in. You loved it.

 When the car finally arrived, you hurried inside through the service entrance and met the rest of your team. As you approached them, you looked around the venue, already pleased with what you saw. The pinks, greens, golds, and other colors of the tropics all went well together. When you had the idea, it was just a few pictures thrown together, and now it was a full-blown tropical luau. A smile spread across your face was the indication your team needed to know that you were happy with the finished product.

“This is perfect, guys. You did well.”

 They looked relieved and then overjoyed. As they walked you through the glass-roofed solarium, you took in every palm tree, pineapple, and bamboo hut you passed. It was perfect.

 Before you knew it, the room filled with your family and friends, everyone had the same reaction as you. They marveled at the beauty of the decorations and the elaborateness of your plans. You were that planner, the one to bring the elaborateness to life.

 “Y/N!” Spinning around, you saw Scott, Lisa, Carly, and Shanna approach you. Once they got close, they engulfed you in a tight group hug. Groaning, you allowed them to smother you.

 “Goodness, you’re gorgeous!”

 “Thank you. I’m so glad you guys could come.”

 “Really, you’re family, of course we’d be here,” Carly expressed with a wide smile.

 You’d all grown up together in one way or the other, and you did feel like they were your sisters.

 “Your mother and I were making the rounds around the room, and I am amazed at what you’ve pulled off,” Lisa said.

 “It’s beautiful in here. I love it,” Shanna added.

 “Me too. It is so much better than I pictured,” you admitted.

 “You’re so modest. You knew you were going to slay this,” Scott teased. Throwing your arms around him again, you giggled, fully appreciating that he was there.

 Aamal approached your side with a wide smile. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve been sent to find you. It’s time for your welcome address.”

 “Right. I’ll be right back guys.”

 With your arm looped with Aamal’s, she led you through the crowd of one hundred toward the spot you’d decided was the best for speeches of all kinds. As you passed friendly faces, you warmly smiled at them and mouthed your thanks for their attendance. When you looked back up, that was when you saw him in the back. Instantly, you felt butterflies in your belly. You didn’t know what kind they were, though. Fuck, you thought.

Chris wore yet another great suit you knew he’d picked himself. You could always tell the difference between a CEvans outfit and a stylist put together one. You bit your bottom lip; you could feel it trembling. He gathered in along with the other guests but kept his eyes glued to you.

 “There you are beautiful.” The familiar deep voice beside you brought your attention from Chris. As you looked upon the smiling face of Jaxon standing before you, the butterflies intensified. Again, you had no idea what kind they were.

“Hi yourself, handsome.” Jaxon lowered his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arm around your hip before he faced the guests.

 “Uh, first, Y/N, and I would like to thank you all for coming today to this shower. It means more than you all could ever know. Um, each of you have impacted us as a couple in some way or form, and we want to thank you for your friendship, advice, and support on the path to us getting here. Let’s raise a glass to each of you; you have our eternal gratitude. Here, here.”

 Everyone repeated the words before they took a sip from their glasses. Before anyone scurried off, Jaxon turned to you.

 “And to my beautiful, kind, loving, and immensely sexy fiancé, the day we met, I knew the second you shook my hand that you’d be my wife. I was always told that when a man knows he’s found the one, there would be no doubt in his mind, and I’m happy to attest to that being fact. You are my future, my destiny, and my home. I love you so much. Thank you for agreeing to become Mrs. Pierre.”

 Everyone around you awed and clapped. You tried not to feel self-conscious, but you couldn’t help it. Jaxon lowered his lips to yours, quickly setting the tone for the kiss as he delved his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, sensing his intent, but like always, you quickly got caught up in his kisses and kissed him with a fraction of the passion he kissed you. The cheers and yelps around you had you pulling away before Jaxon got any ideas.

 “Enjoy yourselves, everyone, eat, drink, party,” you exclaimed, hoping to douse the rising humidity in the room.

 One look at Chris in the back of the room, and you could see the storm on his face and recognized and knew it well. 

He was pissed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic   @surmya1907 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @starlite-starbite @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @jovanaprime @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @likesfairytales @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @produtofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @miss-jackson500 @jd-now-jq @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @brwnsugababe @richonne4life @evansshine @munteanhore @spideydobrik @laketaj24 @munteanhore @chris-butt @priya212 @euh-say-what-now @richonne4life @brownskinafro @chrissbabybunny @night-of-the-living-shred @simply-heaven @chaos-crusader

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

[nightswithkookmin]

I think Jikook acts different on cameras yess they flirt a lot but they don’t show us everything of course, Jikook has changed a lot from 2015-2020 It’s like they used to do a lot of things but back then they were very sneaky when they used to do things like when Jimin was playing footsies under the table in Hawaii , him being jungkooks room in the morning while he was taking a shower , them holding hands while suga body was hiding it , do you think they act different on camera now From before

Jikook act different on cameras? Oh god, I hope you don't mean to say Jikook is fanservice now cos...

I've heard this a lot in my Jikook lifetime and after Taekook's conversation in the Soop that narrative shot back to prominence. The behind the scenes of them at the photoshoot certainly hasn't helped things. Lol

Lord knows it created a schism between Jikookers as to what that moment was and what it meant in the grand scheme of things.

I know Jikook have personas, I've been saying this from the onset of my blog. I know Jikook are human, I've been preaching this from go. I know they have different personalities, hell my whole schtick about their love language has been around their personalities.

We don't know much about who they are behind the cameras but I'm glad at least people are probing into that and not taking Jikook at face value- that's what alternative shipping is. Reconstructing their 'real life' behind the scenes interactions based on their online interactions and the little clues they leave behind through their digital print- very heavy detective work lol and I'm all about that life.

I don't know them personally but if I were to reconstruct all of their interactions to guess at what goes on behind the scenes, I can tell you as a fact that Tae and JK are the least members who spend time together off cameras. I can tell you that much.

They will be followed closely behind by Tae and Jin, Suga etc. In my opinion. If there are any pairs that spend a lot of time together off cameras, to me, it would be Jimin and JK, followed by Jimin and Suga, Jimin and RM and of course VMin. You just have to pay attention to the things they do and say about eachother.

You only have to take one look at Jikook dancing in sync to the very tip of their hairs to know those two spend a lot of time practicing together off cameras. And when you hear them harmonizing- damn, you just know.

The members have pointed out Jikook's unique way of dancing planned and choreographed dance moves on stage and the look on Hobi's face in that reaction video says he was equally taken aback.

Jikook, out of all the members, have the most chemistry online in their interactions and a certain high levels of intimacy that to me the only way I can make sense of it is If they have carnal knowledge of eachother or have at least encroached on eachother's emotional and personal space in such a way that it blurs the lines of friendship a little bit resulting in synergies between them that is out of this world or both.

Because let's face it, neither of Jikook is peacefully mounting their respective partners without addressing the elephant in the room which is eachother staring at them go at it from the couch.

I have seen Jimin with his friends within and outside BTS to know he acts the same- THE SAME, with everybody skinship wise on and off camera and yet his intimacy with JK stands out the most- I wonder why. Smirk.

We've seen him drop softly into Sungwoo's laps at an award. We all saw it. And that was not 'on camera' and so we can't say he acts differently with JK off camera at least where skinship is concerned. Know what I mean?

And just the fact their rain fight was about Jimin caring too much about JK- we can't say JM doesn't care about JK off cameras either.

When JM tried doing his flirty gat shit with Suga, Suga scolded him saying he is not JK if my memory serves me right. So clearly the gay shit he does with JK is something he does offline too.

I can't say same for JK though because JM have said JK acts different with him on camera- cold on camera but warm off camera. I've mentioned this several times now so I won't get into it.

What I'm trying to say is, Jikook don't Jikook all the time but their interactions aren't exactly off of what we see on camera. Their personalities offline may be different but that doesn't mean their interactions offline are different or wildly different. Their interactions on line aren't so far off from their off line interactions such that we can brand what they do online as fanservice. In my opinion.

And also, something about the way JK reacts when he sees Jimin all over the members tells me he is not used to seeing JM prioritise others over him or have that intimacy with the members off camera. Yes, he does skinship with them and with his friends but I feel he does it the most with JK.

I mean if memories 2019 is anything to go by. Why do I feel I have answered this ask before? Lol.

Have their interactions changed online? Well for one, they aren't horny teenage boys anymore- ok, that's lie. They still got it like it was yesterday. Lol. They've matured a lot is what I mean. They've learned a lot and their fandom has equally grown enormously since those days.

I mean, let's be real, the Jikook ship tag wasn't as hot as it is now so they could get away with a lot of things back then. Now, they are one of the biggest ships not just in BTS or S.K but in world. There isn't much they can get away with. So their bandmates, editors etc. even they themselves check their behavior on camera a lot these days- especially with the jealousy and possessiveness bit. Lol.

Jk has really been trying. Jimin too. They crack sometimes but still you can see them putting in the effort- honestly, good for them. I can't be mad at that. We love positive change.

As for the sneaky behavior...

Chilee, I don't know. They still seem pretty gay, very risque to me. Lol

Jimin playing with Jk's titties in last year's season's greatings, dipping his hands in Jk's pockets- from JK's reaction it didn't seem like JM was reaching for Christ in those pockets. Cough cough.

And JK intentionally pushing his butt into JM's groin region- had my bias looking all kinds of confused. Poor Jimin! The sexual innuendos in that footage... good thing the editors cut that bit off. Good thing. And JM, you did not have to drop your eyes to the Jeon booty. You know you can't keep it straight. Jeon booty makes you weak and you know it. Lmho

Eye fucking eachother this year, blowing illegal kithes during the Dynamite reaction VLive - Tae didn't yell 'let's not look in the camera's because he thought they were about to harmonize for Jesus. Lmho. Dude is tired of their shenanigans- I feel you Tae. I'm done with them too. Gosh!

Jk interrupting Jin's call to ask JM on a date- now that was wild. Asking JM to change his clothes and come back to the live and that little gay panic moment JM had after hearing that. Oh Jimin! Bless his heart, he's weak. Lol

JK really wanted to do a live with JM so bad- I'm glad he got his wish later. And from the looks of it, seems he is still fighting to have another one (ALONE) with JM. Can't wait to see how that works out. For now, I know he is grounded. Lol

The bolder one this season for me has been JK. I think you have to go back towards the end of 2019 until JM's birthday this year and reevaluate their interactions. Jk has been holding it down, piloting the Jikook ship until August this year when JM started getting loud again with his overt flirtations.

No but seriously JK, you will do all of these bold wild moves and still not take a minute or two to wish him a happy birthday on his birthday. Then when we don't ship you with Jimin too you'll stand there looking like your cat got stuck in a tree- quirky for no reason this one. Chilee.

It's the, I love you Jiminah at the end of his call for me. I set that as my ringtone for months! Lol

And JM turning red on the couch during Bon Voyage four- c'mon now, that was something! Hobi was right, JM needed an ice pack- all night. Sksksksksksksksksksksjk

Don't mind me. I can be silly for no reason sometimes. Lol

It's not so much as that Jikook's interactions have changed for me. It's more so that there are a lot that has changed around them and in effect, is impacting their interactions on camera.

For one, as I keep pointing out, they don't have the freedom to do certain things anymore. Like, doing VLives on their own whenever they want like they used to do before. Now their vlives are heavily monitored, and the content they make on the app has been reduced to crafts and Arts- until Jimin's birthday live. You know my theory on that so...

VLive used to be one of the sources of their most authentic interactions. That and award shows, interviews and other contents BigHit has less control over. But all that have ceased due to the Corona Virus pandemic.

BTS's online presence, in the wake of the pandemic is also being heavily monetized. A simple tweet on Twitter from any of them has become very transactional- they have to be careful what they tweet because every tweet now is also a brand promotion for a phone campany.

Soop was equally that- brand promotion for Fila and all the big sponsors that sponsored that production, so bet your sweet ass they aren't going to let any 'controversial' sexual innuendo slip into that- but even that, chilee they tried. Lol. If you know, you know!

I'm waiting to see how they all interact with the VApp in the future, especially JK and Jikook.

And those moments, you pointed out are from Bon Voyage, no? I'm not gonna lie, I am wary of content that comes from BigHit editors. I think I've mentioned this a few times. They aren't stupid, they know what they are doing letting certain moments slip into screen time.

And some of the moments we think are authentic Jikook flirty interactions are just missions given them by the content developers- nobody wants Jikook to be gay more than bang PD and his shady ass editors trust me! Lmho.

Some moments too may be authentic coming from Jikook but that doesn't stop pro gay editornim from using it to his advantage. Chileee. I think I've talked about all of this?

All that being said, I think somethings will never change- like JM caring about JK or JK wanting Jimin. That is a Jikook thing. Yes, JM held JK's hand behind Suga when JK seemed- bored out of his mind. But JK rushed to console JM right after his ment in the recent Online concert. That right there was another Rosebowl moment for me and that would never change until they are no longer a couple.

That right there is also an example of the intimacy I talk so much about. It's that unconscious need to be there for eachother in a way I haven't seen anyone else in the group be that for either of them. They answer eachother's questions even if they don't ask. I don't see Tae traveling across podiums for JK or JK rushing from one end of a stage to another for anyone apart from JM. They really care about eachother and I don't think it's only on camera.

And you are right about their sneaky moments in those instances. sometimes these are moments Jikook breach the forth wall but other times too they are just balderdash. Lol

I think BigHit didn't see this pandemic coming, nobody did. Sometimes I feel they are in way over their heads with it, trying to maintain a steady stream of income inspite of it. But they are going to keep experimenting with content, experimenting with marketing strategies until they find that sweet spot.

I'd be ignorant and a hypocrite if I said all these new developments in no way impacts Jikook and their interactions. Or even their relationship. But one thing I know for sure is Jikook is not fanservice. They are not. And I don't think their affections for eachother has changed. They still got it.

I hope this helps. Stay safe and I purple you.

Signed,

GOLDY

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Nine of ??)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone (even if you don’t live in the US)! Here is the update for this week :) This chapter was a little self indulgent. I do talk a tiny bit about music theory and Jane Austen in this chapter. If you have questions about either, just ask and I can try to explain/direct you to some good sources on what I’m talking about 😅 

Edit: Totally forgot to mention! The whole Pride and Prejudice HC about Lucifer is not originally mine. I believe I read it on one of the Beel blogs. I think it was @taco-beel :)

For anyone new, here is the link for Part One. I hope you enjoy 😁 

Tags for the Lovelies:  @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan (If you’d like to be added to the tags list, just message me or comment below!)

Satan/ F!Mc

Trigger Warnings: possibly for depression?

Word Count: 2,322

After Mc shut the door, she slid down the door to the floor, head in her hands. Well, that couldn’t have gone worse. I would’ve rather had him ignore me or not remember me at all. I could’ve figured out how to interact with him in those situations. But what was with him being sweet in the beginning, and then just seizing up? Then he grabbed my wrist and seemed super worried about me leaving and then didn’t even say anything the whole walk?! That goodbye too! What was that?! 

The more Mc thought about the whole thing, the more upset she got. She leaned her head back against the door, her brain replaying the beginning of the conversation trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Remembering the look in his eyes as he had fervently declared he remembered her. The warmth of his voice.

Then the progressive unease as she had continued talking until the abrupt emotional cutoff. He had obviously been uninterested in talking with her any longer, though she really couldn’t figure out why. He had been so dismissive. But when I tried to leave… She looked down to the wrist he had grabbed. He sounded so… desperate. Like he truly didn’t want to let me leave. So, why didn’t he talk to me?

“Mc? Are you alright?” Michael asked, stepping into the entrance hall with Diavolo.

“I’m… I’m fine. Diavolo, do you have a music room?” Mc asked, standing up as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you have a piano, or similar instrument?”

“Yes…”

“May I use it for the rest of the day? I need to compose.”

“I… Sure. I’ll have Lil’ D No. 2 show you the way,” and as he said that, a small demon appeared and beckoned her forward, and she promptly followed.

“Oh dear,” Michael sighed, eyes following Mc.

“What’s wrong,” Diavolo asked, thoroughly confused by the whole encounter.

“She is definitely not alright. She can only compose when she’s really emotional about something.”

“I… Wait, is she going to let us hear it when she’s done?” Diavolo asked, eyes lighting up.

Mc sat down at the piano. It was an almost pure black grand, and the key colors were reversed, which was messing with her brain visually. The piano bench lid was made from a beautiful dark red wood, the rest the same black as the rest of the piano. The piano did not look worn, but it was obviously old. 

Mc started playing her normal warm up scales, but quickly stopped when she realized they didn’t sound right. She tried again with the same result. It’s in minor…

Trying out all the keys, she realized the whole piano was in minor. You could play major chords, but it was like making minor chords on a normal piano. Interesting.

Mc continued playing and getting warmed up, wanting to explore the amazing opportunity that had presented itself. She started playing some of her own creations, marveling at how different her songs sounded. As she was playing, she remembered a song she had abandoned a long time ago. Though it should have sounded correct, she had never been able to make it sound correct. I wonder…

She started playing the song, and was amazed to find just how perfect it sounded. It was the same song, but it now sounded perfect. Encouraged, Mc tried to continue composing, but she couldn’t get past where she had already composed, no matter how much she worked on it. Discouraged and a little frustrated, Mc look at her DDD and was surprised to see it was almost time for dinner.

Standing up, she promised herself she’d come back later, and work on it more.

“I’ve decided to throw a ball in Mc’s honor!”

Michael and Mc looked up from their dinner at the proclamation from Diavolo. Luke seemed unphased by the announcement.

“A ball? In my honor?”

“Yes! You’re my honored guest after all.”

“He also loves throwing balls,” Luke added.

“Also that,” Diavolo admitted.

“Well, I’d be honored. Thank you.”

“Perfect! It’ll be held a week from today. Barbados! Make sure invitations are sent and food is ready.”

“Yes sir,” Mc jumped, not realizing Barbados was in the room, turning around to see him exit. She was starting to notice the butler seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Is a week too fast?” Mc asked worriedly.

“Nonsense! This is a lot more notice than I usually give if I’m going to be honest,” Diavolo laughed.

“For a whole ball to be planned?”

“Yes! Barbados is one hell of a butler,” Diavolo grinned over his teacup, before taking a sip.

Mc sat in her room and mused over the events of the day. Now that she had calmed down enough to think rationally, she started analyzing Satan’s behavior, and found she really couldn’t make sense of it. Unless he thought I was someone else… Wait. That makes a lot of sense actually. Like not a ton of sense, because he should have realized I wasn’t them before I started talking about meeting him before, but more than anything else I can think of. He may have also been a little… unhinged. He did look like he hadn’t slept in three days…

Satisfied enough that her brain could rest, she snuggled down into her blankets. Every time she closed her eyes however, all she saw was Satan’s face as he had grabbed her wrist. She brought her other hand up to her wrist and grabbed it. Now smiling, she drifted off to sleep.

Mc snorted, shifting a bit as she read. The bed was comfortable, the scent of its owner making her feel safe and comforted. Classes had been long and when the demon that sat behind her had gotten up, they had accidentally hit her in the head with their bag pretty hard, which had made Mammon nearly kill them. She had narrowly saved their life by assuring him it had been an accident and somehow calming her guardian demon down. This then had resulted in her being called into talk with Lucifer about what had happened, and so she had missed her Devildom History course.

She had come to Satan’s room to grab the notes he had thoughtfully taken for her, but when he saw how worn out she was, he had offered a quiet evening of reading and tea. She hadn’t been able to refuse, seeing as how she relished anytime she could get with him. The scent of old books and their caretaker was a surefire way to help her unwind from the day, the stacks of books throughout the room making her feel like they were in their own little world. The outside world glittered in the perpetual darkness through Satan’s large windows.

“What’s so amusing?” Satan asked from the armchair he had moved over by his bed once their reading sessions became a normal occurrence.

“‘We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him’” Mc quoted.

“Ah! ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’” Satan said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Mc’s brain stopped functioning for a second, “Wai… Wha…?”

“Pride and Prejudice right?”

“Oh, hehe, right,” Mc laughed, trying to hide behind her book as best she could as all the blood rushed to her face, “It’s a good quote.”

“You know, when it came out, there was a rumor going around that Mr. Darcy was based off of Lucifer.”

“Wait… You’re joking.”

“No. He had been spending a lot of time in the human realm. Sometimes we wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Then, he just stopped going up as much. About a year later, Pride and Prejudice was released. After the rumor started, Lucifer would not allow it in the house for the longest time. He even went so far as to ask Diavolo not to allow it in the Devildom at all.”

Satan had Mc’s full attention at this point, “What was his excuse?”

“Something about a stupid romance novel ruining his reputation, and how we needed to be the voice of reason for the lower demons if they were going to allow themselves to be so easily swayed to believe the nonsense.”

“You had a copy though, right?”

“Oh, of course I did. I still do actually. First edition. I even went up to the human realm to get it.”

“Wow… That explains so much though. Lucifer is like the epitome of Mr. Darcy.”

Satan shifted in his chair, and looked down at his book, “You think so?”

“Yeah. Tall, dark, handsome,” Mc watched as Satan sunk a bit lower in his chair at each word, seeming to get fairly upset, “Standoffish. Rude. Conceitful. Overbearing.”

“Ah, so you’re not a fan of Mr. Darcy?”

“Hmmm… I wouldn’t say that. He is her most popular leading man for a reason. But…”

“But?” Satan was looking at her now, his eyes probably larger and more insistent than he meant them to be. 

“He’s far too prideful in the beginning for me. We probably wouldn’t have gotten anywhere,” Mc watched Satan relax visibly before continuing, “While I enjoy Pride and Prejudice, I’d rather read Sense and Sensibility or Northanger Abbey. I would rather have a Mr. Tilney or possibly even a Colonel Brandon. Someone who I could sit and make jokes with. Someone who would read to me. Someone I could go on adventures with and who could tell me all about this or that because they’re so well read,” Mc was looking down at the cover of the book now, and she could tell her face was heating up, “I’d much rather have someone like that.”

There was silence after Mc stopped talking, and she dared not look up. She’d basically just confessed to Satan, and she hadn’t even meant to. She kinda hoped her words went over his head, but also hoped they didn’t. The silence stretched longer than Mc would’ve liked before the bed shifted.

There was another few moments of silence before Satan spoke, a bit haltingly, “Mc, will you look at me? Please?”

Mc lifted her eyes shyly looking a little sheepish. She only had a moment of Satan’s shocked look before there was a flash of gold and his lips were on hers. She was so shocked she couldn’t respond for a second, but then she returned the kiss, melting as her body was on fire. Completely focused on the moment while soaring through the clouds. Perfect. It was perfect.

Mc came back to consciousness, her alarm playing soft piano music. She reached out her arms grasping. Searching. Coming up empty, she cracked an eye open, disappointment flooding her body when all she saw was her own arms. Her vision blurred as a strong wave of loneliness washed over her. She blinked a couple times to clear away her tears, feeling them slide down her face. She had had mornings like this in the Celestial Realm, though this was the first time she had remembered the dream that preceded it. She hadn’t really felt lonely since coming to the Devildom, and hadn’t registered it. Now though, it felt debilitating. She sent a text to Luke explaining she probably wouldn’t be down for breakfast and asking him to apologize to everyone for her. She then turned on some soft music, and dropped her DDD on the bed.

She lay quietly, the tears falling openly. This is what she had to do those terrible mornings in the Celestial Realm when she felt like she couldn’t face the day. Eventually her tears gave out, and she was left with an apathetic empty feeling. She continued laying in bed, not remembering a bout this bad in any recent history. After a while, she drifted off to sleep again.

“Hey. You awake?”

Mc groaned, sore from not moving in awhile, “Is that you Luke?”

“Yeah. I got a bit worried when you also missed lunch. You okay?”

“I think I’m okay now. I just got a bit too upset this morning.”

“Are you sure? I can tell Michael you’re caught up in an artistic frenzy or something.”

“Nah. Thanks though,” Mc smiled, still sleepy.

“Okay. As long as you're okay,” Luke was looking at her worriedly, but leaning down and kissing her forehead anyways, “I’ll make sure some lunch gets saved for you.”

“Thanks Luke,” Mc sighed, sitting up.

“Anything for my little sister.”

Over the next week, Mc continued trying to work on her song, though she didn’t get any further, along with her other art. She also read all about the Devildom’s history and visited some historically significant locations to put a name to a place. The whole time, her mind worked on the enigma that was her dream. She supposed it was a product of her brain trying to work through the disappointment of how her first meeting with Satan went, along with how active she had been since coming down to the Devildom. She tried to convince herself of this anyways. The truth was, it felt exactly like she was reliving a memory. It felt real, and nothing about it had been weird, all details clear, nothing out of place. It even felt familiar, she’d even go so far as to say worn, like some of her favorite memories did.

She blushed even thinking about the dream, clearly recalling the warmth and softness of his lips. The feeling of his hand on the back of her neck....

“Mc, are you almost ready,” Luke called from the other side of the door.

“Give me a couple more minutes. I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay. The guests are starting to arrive.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me know,” Mc took one last look at herself in the mirror before nodding and getting up, “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Like, comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love discussing Obey Me so feel free to chat with me 😁

Part Ten

[thoseofgreatambition]

smoking

smoke and roses | prologue | pt 1. get well soon | pt 2. smoking

summary: george is glad to have you back. overjoyed in fact. he writes about flowers now. the nightmares are going away. it would all be perfect, if you would stop trying to sneak in cigarettes. 

a/n: it’s nice to be back and making this series again. i missed it a lot, and i’m happy to be revisiting the topic of grief again and what healing can look like. if you liked marry me, i think you’ll like this. let me know what y’all think please. i love feedback :) 

George’s quill danced across the page, a small smile upon his lips. 

you’re back. 

you’re back you’re back you’re back. 

you’re here. 

you’re here. no kisses is fine.

waiting is fine. 

you’re walking.

you’re smiling. 

you’re joking. 

He stopped writing for a moment, sniffing the air out in the garden as you came closer. George frowned at you as you came closer to him. 

He wrote one last line. 

now if you’d stop fucking smoking. 

“You smell terrible, Y/N.”

The scowl you gave him would have made a weaker man wither. “Want to say that in a nicer way?” 

“No, you said you’d stop smoking.” 

“It was my first cigarette in a week and a half! I think I’ve done very well.” 

George however seemed less than impressed. “You’ve just gotten out of the hospital.” 

“Two months ago--” 

“After being in there for a year.” 

It seemed that a stare down was in order, as you refused to break eye contact with the man. 

“I’m doing my best.” 

“It’s a terrible habit.” 

That you couldn’t deny. You’d picked it up in your sixth year, and Fred had picked it up from you.

George had always been the one to scold you for it. He’d ratted out Fred to Molly which had gotten the poor boy into a great deal of trouble. He’d gone to tell your parents and had found that both of them were incredibly avid smokers. 

You’d been punished for smoking before you were 17, and giving cigarettes to your friend. It’d been enough to have you quit for a few years. You’d apologized to Molly and gone cold turkey with Fred. 

Then the war happened. And you’d reckoned that there were worse habits you could pick up to deal with the stress. Fred still snuck off with you every once in a while to light one up. 

George had been less than impressed. 

“Pop a mint, Y/N. And no more smoking here. Mum hates it.” 

Your teeth ground together for a moment before you nodded and popped a mint into your mouth. “’m sorry George.” You sat down next to him and leant your head on his shoulder. “Don’t mean to make you worry.”

Like always, you made it hard to stay mad at you. “Show me you’re sorry by stopping it.” 

With a nod, you reached into your coat pocket and handed him the carton of cigarettes “You can take ‘em then. Won’t be needing them.” 

George stared down at the box with a frown, remembering how unhappy he’d been cleaning out Fred’s room and finding an empty carton of cigarettes. “Terrible habit.” 

“It is.” 

“Stupid thing to do when you’re recovering.” 

His voice lacked any real anger behind it. He spoke a great deal like when he was chiding his siblings on something they ought not do. A gentle voice that still remained stern enough to get a point across. 

“You’re right.” 

“What made you want to smoke anyways?” George reckoned he was undermining his point by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you. But the smell of roses from your conditioner was quite nice, and it truly was impossible for him to keep you at an arms length. 

Your silence spoke volumes. He glanced down at you with a larger frown. This time his tone was worried. 

“You’ll be cross with me if I tell you.” there was an odd thread in your voice that he couldn’t quite tie to an emotion. 

He used the same tactic he had when he was younger. A joke. “Can’t be that bad can it? Sure I’ve done worse. Surely you remember me and Fred’s exit from Hogwarts.” 

Tears stung your eyes and your chest seemed to tighten up. A rather painful thing now. When you’d been in the hospital your strep throat had turned into pneumonia pretty quickly, which had led to a whole host of other problems. Any tightness in your chest just served as a reminder of that time. 

Really, you’d been quite stupid for smoking. 

“When I got sick it was just three months after the war, you know? Not that long. And I was in there for a year...” your voice trailed off, unsure of what you were really trying to say. “And everything is different now, you know? It feels like everyone’s moved on and I don’t know how or I’ve missed the boat... and I just...” 

Again you fell silent. Truly you felt awful for bringing this up, especially when George was having such a good time adjusting to it all. 

It was almost a year and a half now, and to you it felt like a much shorter time. 

“I’m sad about it all.” your voice fell even more quiet. “And I really miss Freddie.” 

You’d expected to be chided about how silly that all was. What a foolish reason to pick up a bad habit. Instead you found yourself being hugged so tightly you lost your breath for a moment. Tears welled in your eyes as you gently gripped George’s shirt. 

“Why would I be cross about that?” his voice was muffeled against your neck. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to be sad. I’m sad too.” 

Your eyes burned for a moment. “I thought you’d think it was silly because it’s been so long since it happened.” 

“Eighteen months isn’t long at all, Y/N.” he held you even tighter against him. “We knew him for years. Probably going to keep being sad for a while.” 

When the tears finally began to fall you gripped onto him even tighter. You weren’t even sure what there was to cry about if it was okay to be sad. The tightness in your chest scared you, and resulted into you gripping onto George painfully tight. 

Gently, he rocked you back and forth, allowing his own tears to fall. “Why don’t we go inside and you can lay down. You’re still getting better. A nap will help out.” 

There was a small nod from you. “Can I nap in your room?” Something about being closer to George made the tightness in your chest feel smoothed away. 

“‘Course. I could use a nap too.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

You had fallen asleep incredibly quickly. Immediately asleep as you hit the pillow of Fred’s old bed. 

George’s brow knitted itself together as he watched your breathing even out. Just why would you think he’d be cross with you? 

Some days seemed like everything was back to normal, and other days you seemed close to tears. Perhaps you didn’t notice yet that most everyone else felt the same way too. 

There was quite a loving look on his face as he spoke softly, “Numpty.” 

He tried to write once more and simply found that his words wouldn’t come out right. Hot tears began to escape him, which he simply did his best to wipe away. When he’d smelled the smell of cigarettes as you came towards him before, he’d half expected to have Fred trying to hide behind you, making jokes about what a terrible influence you were and that George shouldn’t be mad at him. 

Then you would laugh and try to push Fred in front of you and say if he was so brave he should be able to resist temptation. 

He’d been so frustrated before when that would happen but now it seemed to be a rather fond memory. 

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring at a crying George.

“Are you sad too, Georgie?” 

He wiped away his tears the best he could and gave you a smile. “Yeah. ‘m sad too.” 

You held out your arms from underneath your blanket. “Need a cuddle?” 

George nodded silently before crawling underneath the blankets and wrapping his arms around you. A rather squished fit seeing as how small the bed was, but you nuzzled into him and any discomfort faded away. “Yeah. A cuddle sounds good.” 

With a hum you closed your eyes. “Do I still smell bad from the smoking?” 

His chest vibrated underneath you as he laughed. “A little. But that won’t be a problem anymore, will it?” 

He was rubbing circles onto your bath as you shook your head. “Nah. Not a problem anymore.” 

George still found himself crying, but still managed to smile up at the ceiling. 

“Good.” 

He needed you healthy, after all. 

George wasn’t sure how he would handle you getting sick again. 

“’ts really good, Y/N.” 

He half expected a response before realizing you were asleep again. 

You weren’t perfect, but he loved you for it. 

TAG LIST: @fainting-fancy @insearchofnewdreams @stillwater20-blog @lumos-barnes @oh-the-snowinthemoonlight @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @geeksareunique @phantomhive-shadow @i-am-tired @carolinesbookworld @imaginethis-st @xinyourdreamsx @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @doct0rstrange @neontiiger @lovelivelovesomemore @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @hasinoreb @1moom-girl1 @familiarcrow @chocok22 @fandom-rpblog @familiarcrow @kimytimeywimey @knreidy1 @obsessedwithrandomthings 

[dr-skellington]

And The Winner Is...

So I was hella bummed to miss HIV/AIDS Awareness Day... So I wrote this for National HIV/AIDS Testing Day but I feel like it can emcompass both

anyways happy National HIV/AIDS Testing Day! If you’re sexually active y’all better go get tested! 😜

This is being posted to both my main and nsfs blogs because all of us nsfs content creators are guilty of (more often than not) creating content that doesn’t portray safe sex, which is the only way to prevent STDs and AIDS. For all my followers out there, please use condoms when engaging in sexual activity and if you don’t want to get pregnant, use some form of contraceptive as well. Stay safe. Love you guys <3

Please reblog the version with links

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Loceit

Words: 2,899

Summary: Janus has been in the epicenter of the AIDS pandemic since it began. He’s seen more death, felt more loss, and heard more pain than any human should just within the last seven years. He’d all but given up on family, friends, forming bonds of any kind, because he knew they would just be taken away from him.

Until he met Logan Abbott.

Tags/Warnings: death, character death, HIV/AIDS, takes place in the 80s, specifically ‘87-’89, mentions of ballroom culture, descriptions of illness, descriptions of delirium/fever, descriptions of unintentional minor starvation, this is not a cheery fic guys just keep that in mind and be careful

December, 1987

“Number 37?”

Silence.

“Number 37.”

People glancing around. Logan nudges Janus. “Janus, that’s you.”

Janus startles slightly when Logan nudges him, blinking. He’d been completely zoned out, staring at the white wall opposite their chairs. “Ah, yes. Right. Thank you, I’ll be back in a moment.” He stands up, meeting the nurse’s kind smile with a blank look and following her back to the doctor’s office.

Janus shuts the door behind him, the click of the deadlatch nearly deafening in the silence. He takes a seat across from the doctor in a stiff polyester chair, shifting his weight nervously and crossing one leg over the other. Janus folds his hands in front of him and gives a slight nod.

The doctor smiles at him, opening up his file and looking over a page as she speaks. “So, are you ready to hear the results of your test?” She looks up, one of her eyebrows slightly raised.

All he can manage is a nod, his heart hammering in his chest. Please let it be negative, please let it be negative, it has to be negative.

“You tested positive, Janus. I’m sorry.”

Janus sits in numb silence for a moment, his mind screeching to a halt, the sound of his racing heart unheard past the ringing in his ears. Positive. He had HIV.

“Run the test again.”

He doesn’t even realize he spoke until the doctor is replying, a sympathetic frown pulling at her lips. “We’ve run the test twice. I’m sorry, but that’s the result.” He shakes his head, looking at her with wide, frantic eyes.

“I can’t have HIV, I can’t die! Not yet!”

The doctor raises her hands in an effort to placate him. “Janus, you aren’t going to die. This doesn’t have to be a death sentence. There are options; treatments, support groups. There’s AZT. You don’t need to fight this forever, you just need to fight until a cure is found-”

Janus jumps to his feet, pushing the chair back. “What cure?! No one is looking! The world wants us dead!” He’s bordering on hysterical; shouting, trembling with his racing heartbeat, tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t an idiot. Doctors may promise help and support and solutions but the facts were that no one cared enough to even look for a cure and the only worthwhile treatment killed as many people as it helped. He’d seen the effects of AZT, seen how it can make your body shut down. He was just as well off not doing anything, in his mind.

His doctor sighs, lowering her hands. “I understand that this is hard to accept. I’ll give you a moment to yourself, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She walks past Janus and shuts the door quietly behind her, leaving him in silence.

It lasts for all of ten seconds before he’s falling back into his chair and hiding his face in his hands as sobs wracked his body. In the span of thirty seconds his entire life had been thrown up in the air, all plans for the future shrouded in a veil of futile hope that he’d even live long enough to see them happen.

The virus had swept through the gay community like the final plague of Egypt, claiming countless lives in the last seven years and looming over thousands more. It had become apparent very quickly that there would be no help. Not from the president, or any governors; no one. Hospital staff would do their best, but even they could only do so much and due to lack of knowledge many of them were afraid to get too close to those on the downslide, afraid of catching the virus themselves. It was the kind of plague that left even the most healthy man riddled with anxiety. It was the kind of plague that didn’t care about sex, race, gender, religion; it only cared about spreading death.

It was the one thing in this world Janus was afraid of.

Janus had been only nineteen when the pandemic began. He remembered hearing of it through rumor, how so-and-so’s brother/cousin/son had become mysteriously ill, only to die months later. He remembered when it was no longer a rumor and people in his own backyard began to drop like flies. He remembered friends locking themselves away, ending relationships, never leaving the house in fear of catching it. He remembered moments of silence in ballroom and the absence of it on the television. He remembered the first house he had joined and the exact number of days it took for him to be the only one left standing. He remembered burying friends, brothers, sisters, mothers.

And now Logan would have to bury him.

Oh god, Logan. How could he tell him? He knew the pain of watching the man you love withering to nothing before your eyes while no one offered help. Now that he was on the other side, though, nothing terrified him more than Logan not being there, being left alone to rot in a hospital bed while this virus stole his life from him. But Janus was not a cruel man.

He had to tell him. He had to give him a choice.

Janus took another moment to collect himself, wipe the tears from his face, and stood. He left the doctor’s office without a word and made his way back to the hall Logan was waiting in like countless others from their community. The way Logan straightened up and looked up at him with hopeful eyes when Janus finally turned the corner crushed his heart in his chest. This may be the last time that he gets to see that face, hold those hands, kiss those lips.

He walks up to Logan, who’s stood up to meet him with an expectant look. “Well? What’d she say, Janus?”

Janus takes Logan’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. Logan’s expression morphs into one of pain and sadness.

“I’m positive.”

“Janus…”

Janus takes a breath through his nose and lets go of Logan’s hand. “I’ve been on your side of this too many times to ask that you stay in good conscience. If you… If it’s easier for you to leave, to move on now before things get bad… I understand.”

“Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten! The winner is Janus from the House of Fidelity!”

Janus Jackson was twenty-three when he met Logan Abbott. By then he had buried half of his house and five boyfriends, and had decided life would be more tolerable if he stopped forming close bonds with other people. Despite this self-declaration, anyone you asked would claim that Janus was an open, kind, charismatic young man. He could make the terminal men laugh, gossip with the most effeminate queens, and trade beauty tips with all the trans women without making anyone feel awkward, out of place, or invalidated. No one knew his whole story, but everyone loved to fill in the blanks. This was just as well, in Janus’ mind, as it made it nearly impossible to tell which parts were fictional gossip and which were the sad tale of his life.

Logan was a twenty year-old nobody from out of state. He’d moved to the city for a change of scenery, or so he claimed to anyone who would ask. Janus could tell there was more to it though, and had he cared at all about making friends he might have pried. He assumed Logan came out and got shamed by his community, as was the story for many of the people in the ballroom scene. It was their home, their refuge where they could be themselves when the world told them they were a mistake, a disease, a cancer. Logan had taken quickly to the ballroom scene, finding like-minded people to watch the night’s categories with.

Logan blinks, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. “I… Janus, I would never leave you just because you have the virus. You mean more to me than that. I love you.”

Janus sighs, relief and sadness washing over him; he was thankful he had met Logan, that he wouldn’t have to go through this alone, but the guilt of putting Logan through the same pain he’d gone through would weigh him down until his dying breath.

“I love you, too.”

At some point during the night, be it during a category Janus was participating in or just idle chit-chat, someone had pointed Logan his way. Janus swore he would find out who it was and make them suffer, but for the moment he had to uphold his reputation and make Logan feel welcome. Logan had come wandering over like a little lost lamb, taking the chair next to Janus tentatively and glancing at him.

“Are you… Janice?”

Oh, this bitch.

Janus rolls his eyes. “Janus.”

Logan blinks. “That is what I said.”

“You said Janice. My name is Janus. J-A-N-U-S. I can hear the difference.”

Logan looks at his lap. “I see. I apologize. Though admittedly I feel a little better not having had the chance to accidentally misgender you.” He casts a glance around the room; gay men, a few lesbians, trans women - some more obvious than others - and those you couldn’t label at first glance.

Janus snrks. “Oh honey. You better watch those comments before you offend the wrong people. This isn’t the suburbs, where you can gossip and slander behind closed doors.” He sighs through his nose, crossing one leg over the other as he gives Logan a once-over. “But I can’t fault you for not knowing. Yet. What is your name, pup?”

“Logan,” he says, just loud enough over the emcee to be heard. Janus leans in with a soft smirk.

“Well Logan, after the ball you’ll be coming to my house and talking to mother. We can’t have a cute thing like you living on the streets.”

Logan blushes and nods, and the two turn their attentions to the next category being walked.

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

In the spring of ‘88, Janus got a bad flu. Janus and Logan had just buried their house mother the week before, leaving the two of them and Roman - their newest and youngest house member, a gay Latino boy who was barely older than eighteen - in their house. Roman had been debating leaving to join another house, but his loyalty to Janus as an older brother-now-house-father (oh, the irony) kept him in that dingy apartment. Roman and Logan did their best to look after Janus, checking his temperature every few hours, feeding him soup and helping him drink water, helping him bathe when he was too weak to stand on his own. The flu lasted nearly a week before his fever finally broke. Once it did, Logan was hopeful that Janus would recover quickly, but he never fully did.

As the months went by, Janus seemed to have less and less energy. By the beginning of fall his diagnosis had been moved from HIV to AIDS, and he had stopped walking the balls. If he was having a particularly good day, he would still show up and show support for friends in other houses. Roman had even walked a category on one of Janus’ good days to cheer him up, earning the House of Fidelity their first trophy in almost a year. Janus had cried when Logan wheeled him down the runway to accept the trophy at Roman’s insistence.

The days began to grow colder and Janus never left the apartment. If he even got a cold, he could die, so he and Logan decided it would be better, safer, to stay indoors with the heat on. It didn’t last too long; November rolled around and Janus was admitted to the hospital with an infection. He couldn’t sleep, had trouble breathing, and would only eat if Logan was there to make him. No one thought he would live to see Christmas. Even after his infection cleared, Janus stayed in the AIDS ward with the other men who were too sick to leave. The place smelled of chemicals, with a backdrop of hacking coughs, desperate prayers, and crying. He hated it there, but Roman and Logan made sure to visit as often as they could to keep him company.

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

On Thanksgiving, Logan walked into Janus’ room to find him gripping the pole of his IV stand, walking the length of his room like it was a runway. His eyes were unfocused, swinging his arms around in a delirious attempt at vogueing. Logan carefully approached Janus, gently guiding him back to bed, his heart beating anxiously in his chest. Janus sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up at Logan with a soft smile.

“What are my scores, baby?” He asked airily. Logan swallowed, his eyes burning with tears.

“Tens across the board, my love.”

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

“Everyone misses you in ballroom, dad. Every night I got people comin’ up to me and telling me they hope you’re doin’ okay.”

Janus gives Roman a small smile, patting the teen’s knee as he sits before him on the bed. “And what do you tell them, Roman?”

Roman grins. “I tell them my dad’s the strongest guy there is! Just watch, spring’s gonna come and you’re gonna get better, I just know it.”

“I’d love to see the looks on their faces when I walk into the room like nothing happened.”

Logan smiles, running his fingers through Janus’ matted hair. “I’m sure you will, love. You just need to rest up.”

“Rest up later, it’s Christmas!” Roman shouts, bouncing a little. Janus chuckles.

“Yes, yes it is. Logan, did you bring the packages I told you about?” Logan nods and hands Janus two sloppily-wrapped presents. Janus hands the blue one to Logan, and the red one to Roman. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

Roman grins and snatches the present out of Janus’ hand, ripping the paper off. “Oh, bitchin’! Thanks, dad!” Roman holds up the leather jacket to inspect it, showing it off to Logan. Logan nods in amusement, watching Roman put the jacket on before he carefully unwraps his own present. He gasps as he looks down at the picture of him and Janus laughing together as they sit next to each other, Janus’ hand on Logan’s knee.

“Just in case. Don’t want you forgetting how hot I am,” Janus jokes lightly. Logan looks at him with teary eyes and takes his hand, squeezing gently.

“Never.”

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, Logan,” Janus sobs, his body shaking as tears make their way down bony cheeks.

Logan shakes his head, taking Janus’ hands and looking him in the eye. “You have nothing to apologize for, my love.”

“I-I didn’t want to d-die alone, I’m sorry, I’m s-so selfish.”

“You couldn’t have gotten rid of me if you’d tried.”

The pair sit in silence for a moment, Logan rubbing Janus’ knuckles as Janus cries. It was one of those days where a fever made Janus overemotional. Sometimes he thought it was still 1987, and when he realized it was almost 1989 he would lay there and cry, apologizing for trapping Logan with him. It was the same conversation every time.

“I don’t w-want to die.”

“You won’t die, my heart, not for a long time.”

“I should h-have taken the AZT, I should have tried e-everything I could.”

“You said so yourself, there is a significant chance that taking AZT would have shortened your lifespan even more. I’m thankful that we’ve had this time together, I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“... I know.”

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ

Janus Jackson passed away on January 2nd, 1989, just twenty minutes after his boyfriend Logan had left the hospital. He’d passed away in his sleep, having been well looked-after and held in the arms of the one he loved until he drifted off. The funeral was a week later, and something told Logan that he would need to find a big space to hold it in. True to thought, the day of the funeral the entire church was full of people coming to say goodbye to Janus and celebrate his life, drawing a crowd so big that it spilled out the front doors. No one had known that Janus was religious. No one except Logan.

Logan tested positive for HIV just two months later. He’d sat in the doctor’s office in contemplative silence, nodded, and thanked them before leaving the room. That day, he’d walked the streets of Brooklyn and thought about his time with Janus; all the laughter, the excitement, and the tears. The one thing that kept coming back to mind was all the nights he would sit by Janus’ side in that hospital bed, listening to him cry and apologize, listening to his regrets. Logan returned to the doctor the next day and got a prescription for AZT.

Logan Abbott lived to the age of fifty-four. He had a small number of boyfriends in his life, a few after Janus’ passing, and had buried almost all of them. Shortly after testing positive he had joined ACT UP, leaving behind the balls that Janus loved so dearly to instead fight for his community’s life. When he finally passed on a cool spring day in his own home, Janus’ gift in his hands, he found he had no regrets, looking forward to seeing Janus once again.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

AHHHHHHH I HAVE IDEA!!

How about Henry interacting with Helpy and the “annoying” Ultimate Custom Night characters! Maybe throw in Funtime Freddy!! Helpy could be his son or maybe Bon Bon reincarnated! Just sheer silliness and stupidity :p

Animatronics: Bonnie, BB, JJ, Phantom BB, Phantom Mangle, Phantom Freddy, Old Man Consequences, Trash and the Gang, Helpy, El Chip, Funtime Chica and Phone Guy! (Sorry, no Funtime Freddy here, wasn’t an option- though I don’t mind adding characters that aren’t an option, I would just had to write around that a little more, so I didn’t want to go all in. Events and surroundings all randomly generated like this in-game! Just with slight adjustments for a bit of writing flow). (Special note: This is an experiment. This is a whole ass chapter. Tumblr might not be the right place for it, but I have no better place to put it. If you have an idea on what would work better, I’d love to hear it, but for now this is just it. If you don’t want to read a long chapter, you should probably not press “read more” Honestly, this might not be as much fun as I imagined it to be, I’m terrible at making fun events, heh. If it is, take solace in the fact that it might be the only chapter of this kind on this blog.)

Henry groaned, his bones sending agony through his nerves. It felt like his insides had splintered and were now stuck in his flesh. His throat was burning, but he managed to open his eyes. He was- somewhere. At least it was a place. That was actually news, good news, last time he hadn’t been that lucky after all. Having a couch below him and a room surrounding him was actually a deep relief- it was a room he didn’t have to create himself. Sitting up, he looked around. It seemed to be some sort of employee lounge, a coffee machine, a tv and a couch, with lockers against the walls. A few posters painted the walls. -CELEBRATE!- They said, over and over again. Henry showed his teeth, a grin with no hint of amusement. “… that is what you would like to do, huh?” Standing up he stumbled a little, but the pain only served to keep him awake and grow his confidence. It HURT. And it was GOOD. It hurt, his body hurt, HIS BODY was REAL and in PAIN. When he left to the outside, he was surprised to see that he was inside of one of the oldest locations- at least in form. He was standing beside where the stage was supposed to be, coming from where the saferoom used to be, but to his surprise instead of a stage it was a giant price corner, filled with all sort of plushies and other goodies. Sweets and candies, candles, little gadgets… … and a silver coin among them. It shined and felt oddly… powerful. Ten Faztokens. The other things didn’t even have a price tag, so he decided that he would check back on that later. All items were hidden behind a thin glass wall and he wasn’t sure if he could break through it. Maybe he should try later. Moving further down, he realized a few more things were different- There were TWO pirate coves in the main area and- ‘Pssssst… hey… I have something to tell you…’ Abruptly Henry turned around. Where had that voice come from?! ‘Hey… hey, down here…’ It seemed to come from one of the hallways, leading down to the office. As quick as he possible could, he followed the source of the noise, the mysterious whispers slowly growing louder. ‘It is really… really… important…!’ Finally, he was near the supply closet, looking around. “Hello? Where are you? Who are you? What is this place?” The questions broke out of him more erratically than he wanted them too, the desperation and quiet panic bubbling under the thin veil of cold control- it was almost cracking out of him. ‘Pssssst…’ He spotted a little crate with eyes, and leaned down to investigate- Suddenly a loud noise! The thing was all up in his face, making a low noise, pure bass, causing his head to HURT, but not enough that he would have to hold his ears- Just enough that it shook his skin uncomfortably, from the inside out. Stumbling backwards, he shook his head, the crate had disappeared, leaving him with a headache and burning aggression, so potent that his throat felt sore, as though he had screamed from the top of his lungs… despite not a single noise having come out of him. Moving inside of the office, he was somewhat stunned. It looked like a bedroom. With closet and everything. The wallpaper and whole atmosphere felt… old. A child’s bedroom… except there was an office desk, with a fan, a microphone and a weird little action figure of Bonnie on top of it. Some air ducts were hanging into the room and there were- multiple vents, two doors- A flashlight. Quickly he grabbed it. Great- now all he needed was a taser and maybe he would feel like- “… Henry Miller…” A raspy voice sounded to the side of him, causing him to make a few steps back. In front of him, a creature was forming, a Freddy, burned and see through- It grinned. “… long time… no see…” “I have never met you.” “… your memory is failing you, Mr. Miller…” At this point it seemed to become more and more corporeal, reaching out to the table, its paws scraping over and only slightly moving through the material. Turning to the Pink Guy, he opened his maw a little, nothing visible inside. It was getting ready… “… that’s on you however-“ A squeaky voice sounded. “Maybe you should shine your light at him, Mr. Miller!” Instantly, the flash of his light ripped through the ghostly Freddy, who was quite disgruntled to say the least. “… Helpy… you are supposed to help US.” With that he vanished, giving Henry the chance to turn to around and see who’s mysterious helper was. His eyes fell on a little walking bear standing on the blue shelf, trying to hide between the purple fan. “Whoops…” “… who are you? Can you EXPLAIN this place to me?!” “I’m Helpy! Don’t you remember me, Henry?” Fully irritated the Pink Guy stepped back. “No. No, I did not make you. I THOUGHT about making you, but I never did!” “Oh my, Henry, you must have fallen on your head!” Helpy laughed. “But- I can’t help you actually. Everyone else will be mad! So I won’t tell you how the other people here work!” “Can you at least tell me who exactly these ‘others’ are?!” “Uhm… no. I don’t think so.” Slowly he was reaching behind him for something- But Henry couldn’t worry about it, as a phone suddenly started ringing. Shoving off the bear off the shelf (resulting in a little squeak), he tried to find the source of the noise, his head throbbing. He thought he shortly saw a “mute call” button pop up, but as soon as he saw it, it was already gone. Instead a receiver just- fell from the ceiling, randomly. How? Who KNEW- “Uh- hello? Hello, hello?” “… Phone Guy?” “Scott. Uh- anyways- uh, anyways, I wanted to record a message for you, to help you get settled in on your first-“ “This is not a recording. You just interrupted me. And why would there be a phone RINGING if you were to play a recording!?” For a moment it was quiet, then Scott started laughing. “You never changed, did you?” Irritated Henry skipped past that question, having more urgent matters to talk about. “Scott. Good old Scott. Listen, I think I am in some level of hell.” Dumbfounded there was silence on the other end, while the ghostly Freddy tried to reform, being instantly shooed away by the light. Until finally- “… yes of course. Of COURSE you’re in hell, Henry. Uh. What did you expect?” “I-“ “No, no, no, let’s uh- let’s talk about this. Where did you THINK you are? Because, uhm- not sure how to say this, but- uh- I DIED and I’m in HEAVEN right now and you DIED, sooo… uh- yeah.” “I am glad we talked about this. I cannot recall how I GOT here, however. And everyone seems to know me.” Displeased he shined the light at the grinning grimace of the phantom, before he could even fully form. “Yeah… uh… can’t help you. Actually, I have to go. You don’t have a noise activated animatronic around, do you?” “A- what?” “Hm. Too bad. Talk to you later!” “Wait-“ But before he could say anything else, the connection was cut, and his camera system was blinking up red. ‘Catch a fish!’ the title said, his head becoming dizzy as he watched the little red thing move from one side to the other. Wait, that wasn’t just- the noise and the flashing, the air was getting harder and harder to breathe! … smells like brimstone. He managed to catch the fish, albeit just barely, then opened the camera feed, where a warning sign was blinking. The camera itself was completely covered by another phantomlike animatronic, the Mangle this time. Shortly he blinked at it, shaking his head, then clicking the button that said ‘RESET VENTILATION’. A gust of fresh air instantly blew through the location, allowing him to finally breathe again properly. The fan itself seemed useless- he deactivated it. Having climbed back up, Helpy was back on the shelf, looking at him happily. “Are you having fun?” For a moment Henry looked at him, shining away the Freddy once more. “… no.” Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted Balloon Boy, staring at him with his terrible grin. Instantly he hit the button to shut the door, a dull thud coming from it right away. At least that one gave him a hint of satisfaction, pleased with the mental image that the obnoxious plastic abomination ran face-first into the metal wall. “But you look like you have fun!” Helpy reached behind him, before Henry shoved him over again, still not interested in what he was hiding. “You are TERRIBLE at reading emotions then. A useless AI.” Pouting Helpy sat beside the shelf, not answering this time around. Looking around, Henry got comfortable in his chair, slowly growing… a little bit hot. Huh. Seemed like the fan wasn’t entirely useless after all. Maybe it kept the heat from the hell around them away. … what an image… a Freddy’s in the middle of a fire-y pit. He hoped it wasn’t the case. That would make getting out a lot more complicated. “Is this all I have to deal with?” Henry asked Phantom Freddy, who chose not to answer, but only smile grimly. “… I can live with that.” Leaning back, he quickly flipped up the screen once more resetting the ventilation and shutting the vent to the side one more time for good measure. Again, a bonk. Hopefully Balloon Boy. He relaxed. A routine would form easily. Shine your light, reset the vent, keep the generator going, close the side vent for a while. At least for now the place seemed empty- Suddenly something DROPPED from the ceiling. Lights flashed a heap of shadow-y humanoid figures entered with what sounded like cameras, flashing and shining, making Henry’s head spin. On the top of his table stood Funtime Chica posing elegantly. “Don’t get distracted~!” She spun around showing herself off, then blew a kiss down at him. Then she turned to Helpy. “Helpy!!! Why didn’t you tell me our guest was already here!!!” She whined, upset. Her paparazzi had vanished again, she however stuck around. “My first impression was TERRIBLE! Because of YOU!” “I’m sorry Miss Funtime Chica!” Helpy didn’t seem bothered by the accusation. “He was just suddenly here!” “Aw- well- at least he’s a total cutie!” “Why thank you.” Henry rose an eyebrow, but tried to continue focusing on the plastic children trying to enter the office, as well as the Phantom trying to materialize behind her. “I appreciate the compliments, especially from someone who seems to have an eye for it.” “Oooooh, look at him~ so adorable~ I wanna pinch his cheeks!” Sitting down on the desk, the bird smiled widely, watching him. “How’s the night going~?” “Rather fast. I think I have a grip on it though.” “Hm? Are you sure~?” Before Henry could answer his tablet acted up. For a few seconds he saw the little 8-bit fishing game- but before he could catch it, the screen changed showing an add. “COME TO EL CHIP’S FIESTA BUFFET, WE HAVE-“ Instantly clicking on skip, Henry managed to get another glimpse at the game- And then it was gone, a red GAME OVER stuck on his screen. His breath was getting shorter as the smell of brimstone slowly started filling the room again, the red alarms blinking, but the screen constantly flashing error when he tried to access it. More and more his head hurt, the room seemed to become darker and darker- was this smoke?! Was smoke entering the room? Would he be poisoned by the gasses!? Desperately he rattled the screen, while Chica only giggled and left, Helpy watching intensely from the shelf. “You know, if you just wait a few minutes, it’s gonna-“ Frustrated Henry shoved him down once more, his mouth filling with a disgusting taste as the room began spinning- It all come together, once Freddy formed, the Balloon Boy loomed in the vent, a second after, the telephone was ringing- Suddenly the screen flashed back up and he instantly grabbed it, trying to get his bearing as he hit the button to reset, being stuck for a second too long on the grinning grimaces of both a phantom Balloon Boy and Mangle- the latter of which suddenly crawled out of the screen and while he managed to hit the button, his office had descended into chaos. Helpy was holding a horn, the phantom Freddy had almost formed, the phantom Mangle was slowly extending its neck towards him, screaming and gargling in insane glee and to top if all off, the screen flashed red AGAIN, forcing him to focus on that instead of the other two things- Balloon Boy was snickering as he tried to make his way inside, Henry barely being able to shut the vent on him before discovering the stupid crate from the start looking at him from under the table. “Uh- hello? Hello, Hello?” “Scott. Bad timing.” “That is my job!” Cheerfully the Phone Guy said. “To be as much of a nuisance to you as possible. Uh- glad to hear the high praise. How are you? Bad? Good. Uh- anyways, I will now read to you the company greeting, but only the imperfect, first draft so you feel bad about what bullshit you wrote!” “I can crush this phone.” “No, uh- you actually can’t! The afterlife is neat, huh?” “I can mute you.” “If you are fast enough. Which you obviously weren’t. You really grew old, uh- up there…” “MY REFLEXES ARE GREAT AS EVER.” “If it were the case you wouldn’t, uh- y’know. Fighting with me over this.” “I am not fighting with you, I am merely correcting you. As I always did while we were alive.” Stopping the petty crap, seeing as he wasn’t even sure if this WAS actually the real Scott, he turned his attention to more important things. “What is this place? Who made it?!” “Uh- Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza! A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person-“ Instantly Henry tuned out. “Good riddance, Scotty.” He mumbled to himself, taking solace in the memory that no matter what, this obnoxious Phone-head had been dead for much longer than he himself. While the words kept going in the background, he kept working, pausing as a bright green mechanical parrot flew through his office. But- it didn’t really do anything, so he decided to ignore it for now. A good amount of time passed with his voice in the background, until it was abruptly cut off- seemingly by the ad for El Chip’s. Once that was skipped, the office was quiet, aside from the fan. Finally! The silence lingered. For a second Henry felt a bit lonely. Not even the little bear was there anymore. There was enough to do though, as the air kept needing to be reseted, Freddy kept popping up, the parrot came through once more, the minigame, the annoying balloon children wanted in- At last… … it was five AM. One last time the call sounded. Henry allowed it to come through, despite eyeing the ‘mute call’ button. “Hello? Hello, hello!?” It sounded on the other side. “Hey! You’re doing GREAT. I, uh- didn’t expect you to last this long! I mean-“ He broke off. “Y’know. Usually I expected you to move on to other things by now… disappearing into the void like you should, seeing as there’s no out.” “I will not disappear.” “Huh. Guess I owe the person who made this place an apology. I was wrong-“ “Who?! Who was it?! Who are you TALKING about?!” But before anything could be said, the bell chimed. Six AM His screen changed once more, a high-score board showing, then loud music started blasting from the speakers, hyper and fast paced, the numbers blinking and colorful, rapidly climbing higher and higher as fireworks were set up on the screen and around Henry, raining down confetti as they exploded- GREAT JOB! FANTASTIC! The fireworks stopped and the jingle ended with a congratulatory little up and down. Then the office was dark. Slowly he stood up, leaving to the outside, checking for danger- “Hey! You won. Here, take this for your trouble.” Suddenly ANOTHER Freddy was there, a golden star on his chest- he dropped a battery into Henry’s hands that he had grabbed, then he walked off. “Wait- wait a moment! I need an explanation! I need-“ The bear was gone. After a while of searching around the place and not finding an exit, Henry finally sighed and made his way back into the saferoom- or employees only lounge, or- whatever. Inside it was just like before. Safe. Except this time the TV was on. And there was a Fredbear suit on the sofa. How? Who knew. Why? Hopefully not to kill him. Slowly he moved next to it, inspecting it. At this moment it seemed completely lifeless, yet somehow he felt watched. “Am I… interrupting…?” No reaction. Walking past the suit, he put away the battery. Still no reaction, but he could swear the creature was looking at him. Unsure he approached it once more, sitting down besides him. “… looking at… fuzzystatic. I see. I think I will… join.” Suddenly, a loud noise of came from the tv, then it flashed. INTERMISSION. A little bit later, Henry was done watching a samurai Freddy fighting an ULTRA edgy Foxy, he put his face into his hands. “… send me back out. Please. I actually prefer it.”

[safflowerseason]

The OC rewatch - 2x09, The Ex-Factor

To the lovely and insightful anon who sent in the ask regarding my take on Ryan and Marissa’s fight in 2x09 -

I answered the post and put half of my response under a “Keep Reading” cut because it basically turned into a mini-essay and I wanted to preserve everyone’s timelines. But because this website has the clunky design of a junkyard car, the formatting got all messed up when I added tags to the ask post (@Tumblr - why can you not tag an ask post directly?!) and moved the cut to just below the original ask, hiding the whole response, at which point I got so frustrated I deleted the whole thing. 

Anyway, Anon, you noted that this fight in 2x09 really encapsulates Ryan and Marissa’s baggage as a couple, and is also one of the few moments in the show they are genuinely open about their issues. As any Veep fans who read this blog know…I adore breaking down a good explosive fight (and I love writing them, too). One of my proudest accomplishments on this website is my close-reading of Dan and Amy’s fight in Ep. 5.03. So I analyzed the hell out of this fight for you, because you’re right—it is a very important fight for Ryan and Marissa. I also included the make-up conversation they have after the argument as well, because it seems to me that the two moments are linked. 

First, a few opening comments. 

Thematically, this episode calls back to Ep. 1.13, The Best Chrismukkah Ever, which is the last time we have really seen Ryan and Marissa confronting this idea that the way she deals with the challenges of her life—drinking and other reckless behavior—bring up very real shit for him, emotionally (even if he is also subconsciously attracted to her because of it). This dimension of their relationship kind of gets swept under the rug for the rest of S1, with the Oliver and Theresa drama. But it’s back on full display here, since Marissa is (theoretically) supposed to have spent most of the first third of S2 on a low-grade bender. Note that Ryan refers to the “Dawn Atwood special” earlier when he’s speaking to a drunk Lindsay. This is a familiar trauma, watching over a drunk woman, and it brings out the worst in him.

I also find this argument noteworthy because it shows Ryan in his worst light, but not necessarily Marissa. Yeah, she knowingly let Lindsay drink too much, which is a pretty passive-aggressive move, but she’s distinctly not Lindsay’s babysitter. And when a drunken Lindsay (somehow) makes her way back to the club, Marissa and Alex start looking after her. It’s Ryan who goes off on Marissa with very little provocation, and it’s clearly more about his own issues than hers. I just think it’s significant that this fight occurs on a night Marissa is pretty well behaved, all things considered. Not to wave away Marissa’s substance abuse issues, which are serious, but this fight at least demonstrates that Ryan’s explosions of violent overprotectiveness would not necessarily be solved if Marissa suddenly stopped drinking tomorrow. Their issues with one another are more complicated than that.

Anyway, so here we are, in the backroom of the The Bait Shop that is mysteriously run by an emancipated minor (Alex Kelly). Lindsay is passed out on the couch; Marissa and Alex are tending to her.

Marissa: I can do that. Ryan: I think you've done enough. Marissa: Oh, ok, so this is the part where you blame it all on me? Ryan: You’re right, it was Lindsay's idea to pound straight vodka and pass out…feel good to see someone else mess up for a change?

Out of all the teenagers on the show, I don’t think we ever see Ryan drink? He clearly views binge drinking as a moral failing. This is understandable given his upbringing, but alcoholism is much more than a question of good vs. bad. (Although just to be clear…I do not think binge drinking is a good thing, especially for teenagers.)

Marissa: It was her idea! And, ok, so it got a little outta control b- Ryan: It always does with you! You spent all last year trying to drag me down with you, and now her? You wanna make a mess outta your own life, fine! You’re doing a pretty good job of it if you ask me.

Ryan uses the word “mess” twice in this sequence of dialogue, which is very telling. Even more than S1, in S2 we’ve seen Ryan truly trying to capitalize on the opportunity his relationship with the Cohens has brought him. The line “drag me down with you” is extra significant. In S1, Ryan was pretty willing to throw himself into Marissa’s life and try to solve all her problems, which he views as Marissa “dragging him down.” (Lol, remember when he blew off his entrance exam for Harvard to help Marissa escape from the hospital?) But this year, Ryan has done the opposite. He’s thrown himself into things not involving Marissa, namely his schoolwork, and he clearly sees his relationship with Lindsay, studious and innocent, as part of that new direction. As a result, Marissa’s “mess” has become even more of a risk to his future.

But at the same time, Ryan is so afraid that Marissa is going to destroy her life in some way, and therefore his life. As you said, Anon, he’s conflicted about her place in his life because of the potential danger of her actions, even as he’s drawn to her beauty and vulnerability otherwise. So, he goes after her in a way that is pretty unjustified in this particular moment.

Alex: No one asked you! Ryan: (aggressively) What did you say?! Seth: Hey, Ryan, let’s…let’s go. Ryan: No, I'm not leaving her here. Alex: I’ll take care of her—you go.

As an episode that begins to set up Marissa’s relationship with Alex, this episode doesn’t do a bad job. Alex, as the one person in Marissa’s life who actually defends her, must come as an incredible relief.

And now we’re in Alex’s apartment, where Ryan has come to apologize.

Ryan: Look, I don't know…I…I guess I was hoping this could be easy...for you and me to stay friends…for you and Lindsay to be friends. Marissa: (skeptical) And have us all live happily ever after? Ryan: (sheepish) Yeah, something like that. Marissa: I know it seems like a million years ago we dated, but it wasn’t. Ryan: I know that. Marissa: And ok, maybe you're over it, maybe it doesn't mean anything to you anymore…maybe it never did...but it meant a lot to me. You meant a lot to me...still do.

I think Barton is actually decent in this scene. She doesn’t overplay Marissa’s confession. She’s very quiet and matter-of-fact, and it makes her words all the more devastating. Meanwhile, the camera cuts to Ryan’s face throughout this line, and Ben Mckenzie makes a series of expressions that make it pretty clear that Ryan has been pretty actively not thinking about his and Marissa’s relationship, because it’s just too much.

Ryan: ...it's not like that I...I don't know what it’s like… And…thinking you and Lindsay should be friends was a bad idea. Marissa: Why? I like her. And if you do the math, she's my step sister, so… Ryan: …I guess. (Mckenzie is unintentionally hilarious with this delivery.) (pause) Marissa: Look, clearly, it's gonna be strange for us for a while. Ryan: Yeah I know, you’re right. (pause, turns for the door) I’m sorry. That's what I came here to say. Marissa: I’m sorry too.

The way BM delivers that last line, genuinely heartfelt, the emphasis on the word “sorry”…it's really Ryan apologizing for his departure at the end of S1 and the manner of his return. He left abruptly, he came back abruptly, they never talked about any of it, and he and Marissa basically stopped speaking after the (contrived) DJ reveal. They never had a chance to clear the air, and it’s not like they broke up because they stopped having feelings for one other...all their joint pain over what happened has just been festering.

So, Anon, that’s my take on this great fight. Thanks so much for sending in the ask!

[alchemist-shizun]

Anagnorisis

(AU belongs to @pistachiolan​. Check the notes for more info!)

ἁναγνώρισις: Sudden and unexpected recognizing of the identity of a character in tragedies or other written works, which often determines the turning point in a story. (Latin: Agnitio)

Merry super extra late Christmas aaand at this point this can count as a happy new year gift? I've been literally working on this since last decade, this is some dedication. I hope you like it Lan!! Lov u

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 3,812

Characters: Roman, Virgil (Patton and Logan are mentioned), Thomas

Pairing(s): pre-Prinxiety

Warning(s): Migraine (and its symptoms), implied mind control, self-harm, crying, implied panic attack, some metaphors might be a bit graphic, please tell me if I missed anything!

Summary: Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people. And then came the headaches.

Song used: Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty

A/N: I now have Once Upon a Dream stuck in my head. I like to call this "let me just take all the creative liberties I can get and distort everything about the plot". Okay I have no clue if this is at all the idea you had in mind so I improvised thanks to the lyrics, I hope this isn't too far off? Either way, enjoy the angst and these two pining boys cause I sure as hell had a good time. To all my regular readers: you have no idea what’s coming. (Don’t forget to check out @pistachiolan’s profile for their fantastically marvellous au which you can find in their blog under the #TsCultAu tag) The poem Roman recites is a rough translation I did of Catullus's 48th carmen (had a book of his poems and ended up using my fav ofc). The narrated parts in cursive are either thoughts or past events, the parts in cursive and bold are the song lyrics.

✾

❝I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts.

Cause I don't care if I lose my mind,

I'm already cursed ❞

I know you!

A hand flew to Roman's face, which was contorting with unwelcome pain he hadn't seen coming, before he could even register it was his own.

His fingers pressed on a spot between his eyes and the bridge of his nose, his skin wrinkled around them and he had to steady himself against the rocky wall that led to the dungeons.

The dungeons.

Roman attempted to take a look at the stairs he was on: he was met with a flash, or maybe they were multiple flashes, attacking his vision like sharp blades diving into your skin numerous times, one right after the other.

He was blinded.

Eyes closed again, a whimper came out of his mouth; his free hand found its way to his forehead, getting warmer by the second along with his face, then it slid through his hair, barely able to feel its texture.

Too much of a recurring sensation.

Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people.

And then came the headaches. When he forced himself to remember or clear the discordance in his memories, pain would come.

Oh, come on Roman, his head would reprimand, didn't you learn by now you shouldn't do that?

Headaches turned into fully-fledged migraines.

And hallucinations.

At least that was what he called them. He would be certain of events that had never taken place.

For instance, dungeons.

Roman had been walking down the path leading to them when his mind started to drift away: it happened the same way you look at an object and a memory hits you before its meaning.

For some reason, he remembered being there with Virgil in the past, they had conversations about carvings in the back of the furthest cell, which became the symbol of a legend kids told to scare each other.

It was insane.

Insane his mind could ever fathom the possibility of interacting with Virgil.

Sure, his distress towards Virgil had diminished the more he'd been around without causing any trouble or suspicion, but a memory was a memory. They had yet to have a serious conversation that wasn't necessary, a memory meant they had already spent time alone together as if they had been childhood friends.

Doubt came in, but there had never been solid proof of Virgil himself being up to something, so he had decided to drop that theory.

Roman fell down, but didn't rise up like he usually did in conflicts.

The pulsing in his head made him nauseous; everything was spinning, even the void he was met with once his eyes were closed.

His arms went over his head, trying to shield it from any other malevolent deity that had decided to plague him.

It just all felt so real.

As if he had known Virgil all along.

I walked with you once upon a dream.

Months, months and still no sign of defeat.

Now, who the hell was thinking that messing up with Roman's brain was a fun activity to spend time with?

Even his subconscious had to shove him further down the hole confusion had created: his dreams often displayed all too familiar situations, all too familiar events he knew he had been in, but with that one particular difference in them.

Virgil was present in every single one of them.

It made him lose his mind, so much that he was barely able to bear his sight anymore. He'd feel somewhat embarrassment, he'd turn away after a single glance, as if he had gotten burnt by it.

And then he'd never tear his gaze off of him because, gods of the Empyrean, that boy had to be up to something or else he had no idea where to begin to look for clues.

What a terrible mistake.

Instead, he ended up with the image of Virgil constantly occupying his mind, everywhere he went to, there wouldn't be a moment where his thoughts wouldn't drift away from his task and focus on him.

Daydreaming and migraines became one, distinguished only by the type of pain they caused. Emotional and physical.

Overthinking was his main daily pastime.

And what if his mind was actually trying to tell him something? Dreams often had meanings, so what was his subconscious up to exactly?

That was Roman's train of thought upon waking up from one of those fated dreams, the pounding in his head a visitor who had now become a close friend.

Only thing he was sure of, was that what he had to concentrate on was the fact that it involved Virgil. He tried to recall all of his past hallucinations, all the fake memories, trying to connect the dots between them.

If only he had Logan's skills, he would've had cleared it up in a second. Of course, this one thought was something he was never going to admit and that he would have willingly taken to his grave.

Going into detail was a mess, all the events that had displayed in his mind or in front of his eyes had no correlation whatsoever; so he started looking at the big picture, put labels onto what he remembered.

Those memories. They were all … happy. Carefree little quotidian life bites.

And he felt serene, something that had to be ruined by the massive physical pain. His thoughts told him to stay in those memories, to hold onto them the longest he could, to endure the constant aching so he could stay that additional moment.

It was another him, another Roman who was desperately trying to catch his past and bring it back to himself.

Present Roman wouldn't have been able to perceive that conclusion.

Actually, present Roman was currently losing his mind.

Because just what if what he hadn't realized by then was exactly what he had been focusing on all along?

Feelings. Feelings for someone who had been infesting his thoughts ever since he had arrived.

I know you!

Roman was a knight walking around the village in a busy afternoon at the marketplace. One turn towards a figure in front of a stand, a few feet away, and he switched to distressed knight mode.

« You've got to be kidding me. »

Virgil kept himself from jumping in surprise and faced the owner of the voice right behind him. A single infuriating eyebrow was raised in confusion.

« Pardon me if I dare to show up and get Patton the stuff he needs. » everything was accompanied by a whispered “geez” and an eye-roll.

Again, infuriating.

« That's not- ugh, you're always putting words in my mouth! » Roman watched as Virgil started to walk away.

But he didn't sense the bitterness left in the boy's chest, the one he felt every single time their conversations resulted into senseless bickering.

Then, it happened again.

Virgil stood next to the fountain and Roman's head started spinning.

The way the sun rays hit the water, glimmering in delight, the sparkles that reflected onto Virgil's clothes, the sound it made when he quickly passed a hand through the small cascade.

Dumbfounded, the knight approached him again, searching the scene with his eyes for even the smallest clue to prove him either right or wrong, he simply wanted to get it over with.

Of course, the other noticed his staring. « Like what you see? » Virgil jokingly asked, a hint of sarcasm never leaving his voice.

Yeah, I'm trying to figure that out. Roman stayed silent for another second.

« Are you going to walk back? »

« I don't have a carriage, I apologize. »

He sighed and wondered if he really was considering having feelings for such a … a-

Virgil chuckled right after, ducking his head toward his hand, which shielded his smile.

Gosh, he was gorgeous.

Roman fought a peculiar instinct to pull the hand away and let the whole world be blessed by such a sight. And maybe it was the first time he had smiled like that in his presence, maybe it was the first time after so long of not being able to do that.

Maybe it wasn't the first time at all and Virgil was simply a master at hiding it when Roman wasn't looking. When he didn't want him to realize the truth that could've hurt both of them in brutal ways.

« Well, » Roman snapped back to reality, trying to ignore the headache at best. « It just so happens that I have a horse. » he gestured to the beginning of the plaza.

« No, you don't. » a cryptic expression crossed Virgil's face.

« Wha- » Roman turned just that much to notice that, yes, his horse had definitely freed himself and was now on the loose around the village. « Oh my gods. Oh- Oh my gods. » his hands flew to his hair. « Nope. No. Absolutely unreal. This isn't happening. »

« Dramatic much? » Virgil approached the broken ladder still tied to a fence and started examining it.

« What are you doing? »

« Helping you. »

Roman was getting drunk by all the deja vus he had been getting that day.

Virgil showed him the direction in which the horse had run away, judging by what was left of the ladder. « He might be in his favourite spot. »

« Favourite spot? » his words felt almost slurred, like he had cotton in his mouth.

The other pretended he didn't notice how odd his behaviour had been for the past week. « You don't remember your horse's own routine? »

Roman didn't even know he had one.

After some sighs and an incredulous conversation, they reached a clearing in the woods, where the horse was promptly considering whether or not to swiftly jump and reach one of the fruits on the trees.

« Samson! Really, running off like that on me? »

The animal happily trotted towards them, resting his face against Roman's hand before facing Virgil and surprisingly nuzzling his cheek. For some reason, Samson had always taken a liking into Virgil, which had made it really difficult to interact with the boy in the past.

It was as if Virgil had been his best friend before he was Roman's.

Like he had known him for as long as they did too.

The headache hit his forehead once more.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

Relax time, Patton had called it.

Stressful weeks had been pestering Roman, Virgil and Logan, all for different reasons, yet there never seemed to be time to catch some breath.

Patton had insisted some untroubled hours at night, sat around a little welcoming fire, would have helped their constant stiffness.

So there they were, watching flames try to reach the sky and fail with every attempt.

Oddly enough, their conversations were … simple. Nothing too heavy, no bickering or sarcasm, some jokes but not an overbearing amount.

Roman had his eyes fixated on the fire.

The voices started to drift away from his hearing and everything became muffled as he zoned out, leaving space for the familiar buzzing of nightly insects.

« Earth to Roman, did the gods finally take you away? »

Of course he was sitting next to Virgil.

Of course his whispering would bring his attention back despite having ignored any other louder noise.

He turned his head slightly, his head was resting in his crossed arms on his knees.

« I wish. » he let it out before he could stop himself.

Virgil simply chuckled. « Same, but I don't think Pat would be too happy with that. » And some others, too.

He faced the fire and let its light reflect in his eyes.

Roman believed he could see the stars. « Mhm. »

Virgil seemed to ponder something, reflect on a decision; he could have stayed silent, he could have simply not indulged in a certain matter any further, because that would have costed his life. But he needed proof.

And so he spoke.

« You'll be fine, princey. None hates you here. »

There it was again. Virgil made his best not to immediately check his reaction, but he could see from the corner of his eye how Roman was already raising a hand to his head.

Okay, he thought, something is up.

He bit his lip and ignored the anguished feelings rising in his chest.

Yet I know it's true the visions are seldom all they seem.

Where did that even come from? Why did he call him that, why did it feel so normal as if he'd been used to it his entire life?

What was happening?

Why was his heart beating so fast as he replayed the scene in his head? With Virgil's eyes glimmering against the sky and that smile hidden in the dark.

Who dared to send him so deep in the admiration zone to forget about the continuous pain he was subjecting himself to while being around Virgil so much?

When exactly did he sign the “I will dedicate my existence to destroy myself in order to be around such a human” contract?

To think that months prior he would have called him monster.

Then again, what a peculiar word it was. A mixture or positive and negative meanings, it was the extraordinary, a prodigy, a miracle. That incredible thing that also presented itself as a heinous atrocity.

And it had devoured his mind.

Here he was, now, countless migraines after, finally accepting his feelings because he was at the last stop before having that nightmare finally end.

Except it didn't.

Except non-existent memories of him and Virgil in a past he had never experienced came back to him at once and stronger than before. He couldn't almost breathe and he had no idea where he was going.

But he needed to find Thomas.

Last resort, as they say. A literal deity would have solved the problem in the blink of an eye.

Right.

Thomas had a weird twinkle in his eyes when Roman explained how often he had been getting the headaches and what was the recurrent situation the dreams displayed.

He made him sit down somewhere … he was too clouded by the pain to understand where he was exactly.

« I perfectly know what's going on. » Thomas had reassured him. « Trust in me, everything will be alright soon. »

Yet, when he placed his hands above Roman's head and he closed his eyes not to be blinded by an all too familiar glow, “alright” would have been the last thing he would have felt.

Or it wouldn't have been a word at all, because with the persistent twisting and turning and deleting and reforming of his thoughts and memories in his mind, there was no way he believed there could have existed anything else but pain in the world.

Roman didn't even have the strength to scream anymore.

And it was agonizing. Dangerously agonizing, as he fell to his knees and couldn't even feel the touch of his own hands vehemently pressing on his eyes, strong enough to push them far back into his eye sockets.

Maybe he was actually shrieking so loud his hearing had failed him long before.

His fingers dug onto the sides of his face and fell down on his cheeks, the nails traced red paths down both of them, white bits of dead skin left by them crossed paths with bitter tears that were somehow able to escape the limit his palms put.

« Everything will be alright. » Thomas had repeated while he nonchalantly destroyed the poor boy's mind. « You don't need him. »

That was the downfall of his discernment.

« I'll fix it for you. »

But if I know you,

When the blinding light ceased to hit his face, Roman's entire body plunged into the pavement for a split second, before immediately scrambling back to his feet.

His vision was back, the headache was gone.

But the confusion …

The thoughts that were now forming into his mind. Those were the doleful sting of skin thrown carelessly into flames: just as the skin burned and turned into an ashen damaged substance, so Roman's memories were filled with blank gaps and eroded by the flames of Thomas's power.

« I need- » he stormed out of the room without ever completing the line.

What he needed was actual reassurance.

If before his memories only conflicted with each other, now Roman felt like his whole life he had lived an illusion.

Gods, what was even true at that point?

So, he needed.

He needed answers, confirmations, he needed to feel authenticity.

Roman knocked on a door.

When Virgil opened it, he was met with the sight of a dishevelled and devastated boy, with red on his cheeks and in his eyes. This boy suppressed a sob, barely able to keep his lips from trembling.

« Are you even real? »

It was the exact same feeling as having a crowbar hitting his teeth: insanely painful and impossible to bear.

Followed by colossal quantities of resentment.

Virgil moved carefully, he let Roman in before closing the door behind them and let him sit on a chair in his room. In a second, he was already at the knight's side with a glass of water placed on the desk next to them. Eyes wide with concern, trying to fight the angered shaking of his hands.

He knew it all. That was just the confirmation. Yet, he couldn't talk, only help. Which was the first priority at the moment: care for Roman.

« What happened? » nothing. « Are you hurt anywhere? » still nothing.

His lips contorted with concern; Virgil watched the other try to steady his breath, looking around the room to see if he could still distinguish whether or not he was hallucinating.

Roman raised his arms and pulled Virgil close to him. It felt real. He buried his face in his chest, and still felt real. The tears wetting Virgil's shirt were real.

Real, real, real.

You're real, Roman. He's real. Your feelings are real.

He held him closer.

I know what you'll do.

How long Virgil had denied everything in favour of his safety.

And anyway, as soon as he was back, Roman had instantly hated him, who could even blame him for suppressing the truth?

Then things changed. He had noticed the alterations in Roman's demeanour, the loss in his focus, how disoriented he had started to become.

Townspeople constantly told him to pray to the gods, go visit Thomas for some “blessings”.

Yeah, right.

Virgil's heavy knot contorted in his stomach at the sole thought.

Instead of burdening himself even more, he passed a hand through Roman's hair, maybe embracing him with his other arm a little too tightly.

His feelings blossomed at once again, so much harder than before, as if he had bottled them up for so much time that they exploded simultaneously at the first display of affection he received.

Too long he had waited for something as simple as a hug. And there was only one to blame.

Roman wasn't even able to talk, he didn't want to move and face his issues, there was no way he would have wished to speak up about anything that had happened.

He felt damaged. He barely knew his identity at all and Virgil's presence was so grounding that he would have stayed in his arms forever.

Which Virgil would have gladly accepted.

« Can you tell me a place? » Virgil lowered at his level so he could look him in the eyes. « Somewhere safe, a comforting space? »

Roman sniffed one last time before being finally able to respond.

« The Black Lake. »

You'll love me at once.

Seeing someone calm down on the spot, with the breathing evening out nicely, was a rather cathartic experience, Virgil's own tight chest could finally be released from the grip of anxiety.

The two were sitting by the limit of the Lake, which was enlightened by the moonbeams.

« Follow me now. » Virgil called for Roman's attention. « Focus on the water. »

Roman did as instructed.

« What's your name? »

Grounding exercises.

« Roman Kingsley. »

« How old are you? »

« 22. »

Virgil waited for Roman to take a deep breath.

« What's your title? »

« I'm a knight. »

What is the name of your brothe- « Tell me the name of one of your friends. »

« You. Virgil. »

How can you even exist?

Virgil tried to hide a wide smile at best, while his heart jumped happily.

« Where do you live? »

« In this village. »

« Where are you now? »

« At the lake in the forest. » Roman took more breaths with his eyes closed. « You're with me. You're a friend, I think? I don't know it's all so confusing- »

« It's okay, let's talk about something else. » Virgil let the silence sink in purposefully, so the other could regain his focus.

He watched as Roman moved closer to the water and immersed his hand in it, pushing the water away in vain.

« Can you tell me something you learnt by heart? »

Roman didn't take his eyes off of the water.

He seemed to think about it for a second. « If someone, Juventius, would let me kiss your honey-like eyes to the bitter end, » the steady movement of his hand was almost hypnotizing. « I'd kiss them three hundred thousand times; never will I feel like I'm satisfied, » he raised his hand and stared at the drops falling back into the lake, creating the chaos that mirrored the one in his head. « Not even if the harvest of our kissing were to be thicker than the dried ears of corn. »

Virgil snapped back to reality when he felt Roman's head rest on his shoulder, his eyes closed again, but this time they weren't squeezed shut with pain.

« Thank you. » he whispered.

And, for once, nothing was wrong.

✾

« Want to know why this is my favorite place? »

In another memory, in another past, Virgil had turned to Roman with a small but expectant smile. « Why? »

« No matter how many times I come here, » Roman had returned the smile, holding so many more things he was never going to be able to tell him. « You're always here with me. »

The way you did once upon a dream.

[muddyhippy]

Night Terrors, Chapter 5: Check-ins and Check-ups

A Lily Of-Many-Names Mechanisms Story

Okay, this is my last attempt to get this posted and picked up by the mechanisms tag before I just accept defeat and scream into the void! Apologies for the multiple times I have posted this now, I’m just trying to make Tumblr do it’s job for once! This will probably get self-reblogged once as a last ditch attempt because that sometimes works to make a post of mine appear on my own dashboard! 

Summary

Lily has another nightmare filled with darkness and bad ones later than her usual night terrors torment her and when her usual source of comfort is nowhere to be found she decides to try her luck with the one person she’s pretty sure will still be up…

Featuring;  Some science officer observations, discussions of nightmares, lots of comfort, medical practice, some past Jonny whump, and some soft mechs at the end!

CW-Medical examination, blood test (very minor), needles (very brief), discussion of nightmares (ALL of these are tagged on AO3 too)

(This is also posted on AO3 but I am not including links on this post to see if tumblr will actually allow it to appear outside of my own damn blog! If you want the link there’s lots of versions on muddyhippy!)

 Check-ins and Check-ups

 There was a tentative knocking at the lab door.

 Raphaella frowned, she checked the ship’s time, 4:54 am. That was unusual. The only one who bothered to knock like that was Lily and Lily would be in bed by now and—

 Ah.

 Raphaella moved in a fluid motion, rising from her workbench and opened the door to be greeted by a slightly soggy Lily, the tear tracks and snotty nose was evidence of what had happened, clutching a fuzzy lump of something.

 “Jonny not in his room?”

 Lily shook her head, “M’sorry.”

 Raph sighed. It wasn’t a great inconvenience, she was hardly interrupting a breakthrough, she’d just lost track of time documenting one of her less hazardous bio-concoctions. Without a word she scooped Lily and her fuzzy thing up and carried her back to the bench. Lily immediately cuddled in close to her, Gemini tucked against her chest, breathing in the science officer’s familiar scent of chemicals, leather and a hint of flowers from her long golden hair. Lily loved Raphaella’s hair, it was so beautiful and silky. She loved being allowed to play with it, threading her little fingers through the fine strands and trying to plait them carefully.

 “You want to tell me what it was about?” prompted Raph.

“It was silly.” Lily thought the science officer was so clever and busy with all he experiments she felt shy and small and silly admitting what was wrong, she was a big girl and she should be able to handle one little nightmare. Even if it had really scared her. Lily hadn’t wanted to bother her, Raphaella was always kind when she did her checks on her but that was always at the same time, they were planned. So were all her fun science lessons. This was definitely interrupting and interrupting was rude.

 Raphaella sighed, disappointed at Lily’s conclusion, “If it upset you then by definition it is not silly. Just because dreams are caused by synapse transfer and your brain’s interpretation of events does not mean that the outcome can be deemed ridiculous if it has an impact on you.”

 “Oh.” Lily wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but it sounded like she didn’t think Lily was silly after all.

 “Quite.”

 “I dreamt the Aurora was all dark and cold and I could hear banging like a big, angry someone was trying to get in.” Lily explained quietly.

 “I see.” Raphaella frowned.

 Lily quailed a little, misinterpreting her expression and began to hide her face, “I said it was silly.”

 The science officer sighed, realising what Lily thought she’d meant, “And what did I say?”

 “Sorry.” The child cast her eyes down as she mumbled.

 Very gently Raphaella caught Lily’s chin and pulled her face up to meet her, “No, don’t be sorry. This is a perfectly rational thing to dream Lily. You’ve been very brave and you continue to be brave. My research indicates that nightmares are a way of processing something very frightening and unpleasant that as happened to you. What happened to you was not silly so your way of processing it is also not silly.”

 It had actually be a good excuse to research nightmares in general since she knew full well the whole crew got them, regardless of age. Her own ones were manageable if unpleasant, determined to remind her of things she’d much rather forget.

 Lily’s lower lip wobbled dangerously.

 Raphaella sighed and for once decided to take a leaf out of Jonny’s book.

 Logical rational explanations could wait until she was little older. And she knew Lily responded extremely well physical comfort, she’d seen evidence of that be beyond that farthest doubt.

 “Come here little proton, it’s alright.” Raphaella wrapped both her arms and wings about the upset child and began rocking her like she’d seen Jonny do. It seemed to work after all and if observed action had been proved to yield positive results then who was she to argue with empirical evidence?  

 “It’s alright. You’re safe. Aurora is never truly dark, Nastya, Jonny, Tim and Brian don’t really like the dark either so she makes sure it’s always bright enough. And no one can get into Aurora without our say so. Aurora wouldn’t let them in anyway.”

 “An’ you’d shoot them if they did.” Came a convinced voice.

 “We certainly would. Or do something more interesting but we’d make sure they never got to you.”

 “Promise?”

 Raphaella was not in the habit of keeping promises, they were ephemeral and inconsequential unless you could use them to get what you wanted but this one felt important.

 “On my honour as a scientist.”

 Lily’s eyes widened at the words, that was very important. Raphaella was the best scientist there was and science was very, very precious to her. So she very much meant it.

 “Thank you.” Lily snuggled closer

Raphaella sighed once more, not really put out, she began to card her fingers gently through Lily’s silvery hair. It had been more pleasant than she’d been expecting to show Lily an exact comparison for her hair colour in the natural world, sunshine reflected off the surface of the lake. She rather thought the explanation of how light travelled and refracted might have gone a bit over her head but Lily had been an enthusiastic listener all the same which was better than her crewmates most of the time. She had been thrilled at being compared to sunshine too.

 Lily tentatively inched her fingers towards Raphaella’s cascading tresses, seeking the comfort they represented, Raphaella was kind and she was safe, she looked after her using her science. Lily loved sitting on the science officers’ lap, it made her feel important and special when Raphaella spoke science to her, (like when the others told her about things they loved too) even if she didn’t always understand it, she especially loved it when she let her play with her hair. Lily wanted to grow hers just as long.

 The science officer gave Lily her warmest smile, the one she had cultivated especially for the child. “Go on little proton, I don’t mind.”

 Lily gave her a smile filled with wonder that quickly turned into one of happy, soothed exhaustion. Two hands, one large, one small, each carefully combing fingers through soft hair, both knowing a singular form of peace.

 It took precisely two minutes and thirty seven seconds for Lily to fall asleep under the science officer’s ministrations. Lily had never fallen asleep on Raphaella before, she wasn’t normally the lulling type, leaving it to the others when the occasion arose but this was immensely satisfying, she could now see why Jonny never really complained about holding her till she slept.

 She was glad this interaction was being recorded too, it would be useful to refer back to when comparing different calming methods they all used to see which was the most effective. She had a suspicion that despite all their research, Jonny’s instinctive cuddle and rocking combination from the first night was probably the more sure-fire way to settle Lily. Not that she’s tell him of course. He didn’t need to know just what a comparably good job he was doing. The thing Lily had been clutching was likely to be a Jonny concoction too, the man was deceptively good at needlecraft, he’d mended enough of the crew’s clothes over the years when sufficiently bribed with whiskey, he’d even fixed the Toy Solider’s uniform when it got torn badly enough, complaining that he’d done so only because he couldn’t stand it moping around lamenting the damage.

 He’d even carefully embroidered eyes on the thing Lily held which seemed to be some sort of geological shape. She could admit whilst in her own company only that the craftsmanship on it was rather remarkable. He’d obviously gone to some effort to make her something with crystalline accuracy in some sort of fuzzy fabric and given how tightly Lily had been holding it but she’d never seen it in the mess at meal times nor had it accompanied the child to her check-up sessions, it was her comfort-at-night object. That, that was surprisingly thoughtful of him. She smiled quietly to herself.

 He definitely didn’t need to know what a good job he was doing.

 Maybe a hint.

 He also didn’t need to know the general positives these interactions were having on the pair of them and by extension, the rest of the crew. They would all work it out eventually and if she said anything too soon the idea would be dismissed out of hand, no, it was much better to be able to make unobtrusive observations and predictions unhindered.

 Lily was beginning to grow at a healthy rate, she wasn’t back up to where she should be yet but after three months she was now making steady progress. At her last weekly check-up Lily was now projected to be back on track to reach where she should be for a healthy eight year old in the next three months. They’d successfully reversed the physical damage done to her by the three weeks of acute malnutrition but the longer effects of a lifetime of not having quite enough would take longer to mend.

 Still, it felt, well, nice to see her improving.

 The first time she’d insisted on a proper check had been only few days after Lily had joined them. She’d asked Jonny to bring her to lab so she could get a real idea of what they were working with for Lily, exact height and weight, not to mention resting heart rate, lung capacity, bone density and a blood test to make sure everything was functioning as it should be. Lily was human so there were some basics that could be taken for granted but Raphaella wanted a solid starting point for knowing how best to reverse the damage of long term malnutrition.

 She’d argued with Jonny about it for 47 minutes before he finally saw sense and agreed to bring her along. His hang ups over poor medical practice were one thing and even understandable but not to the point that it impeded Lily’s recovery.

 He’d grudgingly agreed, especially when the others added their voices in assent and Raphaella assured him that she’d keep to the bare minimum of procedures to assess Lily.

 Marius had argued that it was so they could help her not hurt her. Given how delicate the matter was nobody teased Marius that surely it should be him leading the investigation if he was, in fact, a doctor. As it was, they all recognised that Raphaella’s dedication to the scientific approach would probably yield better results long term.  Marius and Brian advised on what she should be looking for specifically all the same.

 It was Nastya who’d finally swung him into accepting the proposal. She pointed out that if they didn’t check her properly when they could have and it turned out that they’d ensured the damage done by her ship management was permanent then that made them no better than the idiots that had led her mission. A grim accolade no one wanted to earn, the more Lily talked about life on her ship the more everyone was convinced it was mission led by utter idiots doomed to failure.

 She added quietly that they weren’t like their creator, that Carmilla would only be interested in tests to see how she could exploit Lily. They needed to conduct tests to work out exactly how to help Lily properly and make sure she stayed healthy and happy.

 Jonny couldn’t argue with that. Well, he could. But he wouldn’t, Lily being safe and well and as healthy as she could be was too important. Kid was a bag of bones, a mortal bag of bones at that and he should know, she still spent half her time attached to him and he was honestly worried by how light she was. He had very vague memories of being young except for a few key things but if he really thought about it he was sure at eight he’d been taller and broader. That wasn’t a bullshit boy vs girl nonsense thing either, he was sure he’d been taller and heavier at her age and that was with his family set up. Something was wrong. Raphaella was right, they did need to check.

 He didn’t have to like it though.

 Raphaella wasn’t sure which of the two were the more nervous coming in to the Lab.

 She made it more into a game in an attempt to settle them both, it wouldn’t do for their nerves to set up a negative feedback loop.  She got them both to play catch with one of her more robust recorders so she could check hand to eye coordination and reflexes. She challenged Lily to scrunch up as small as she could then stand on her tip toes and then stand as straight and flat-footed as she could on her weighing scales.

 Raphaella had Jonny pick her up and hold her as though they were posing for photo whilst she deployed the scanner for Lily’s bone density, explaining that she wanted close ups of her smiling face. It covered her dental development too.

 Checking her ears and throat had been relatively easy, getting silly to pull as ridiculous faces as she could whilst trying to sing ‘Old King Cole’ worked on her throat and the otoscope was hardly invasive.

 Jonny had managed to keep things light enough asking if Raphaella had found some of Ashes’ missing gold down there. Lily had been indignant and Raphaella had played along, pleased he was trying to make things easier.

 The blood test was unsurprisingly a little harder of a sell.

 Lily went rigid with fear when she saw the needle.

 Hmm. Understandable but not helpful, it was one of her smallest ones as well.

 Jonny cleared his throat, his own spine stiffening and also not taking his eyes off the syringe. “Why don’t we have a go with the stethoscope first?”

 That was a surprising suggestion coming from him. Raphaella had been planning to brace herself and try to use that as a wind down but maybe there needed to be buffer. She decided to put it to Lily to decide.

 “Lily, I’m not going to hurt you. I need to take a little bit of your blood to check everything is working as it should be inside you. Your blood can tell me all sorts of important things that you yourself won’t be able to tell me.”

 Lily still looked scared. Raphaella found it wasn’t an expression she liked to see on so young a face. Raphaella had no problem being seen as intimidating or even down right terrifying by those who crossed her path or got in her way. That was half the fun, but on Lily? No, she didn’t like being the cause of that fear one bit. The test was still needed though.

 “But you’ve got a choice,” she continued in the tone she’d already modulated especially for the child, no-nonsense but gentle, firm but soft enough to put her at ease most of the time. “I can take this sample now then use the stethoscope to listen to your heart and lungs or I can listen first and then take the blood sample but either way I need to take it.”

 The child had tried to melt into Jonny, clinging to him, fingers burying in fabric and belts.

 Raphaella tried not to notice that the comforting hand that was running up and down her back was trembling.

 Lily turned to face Jonny. “What do you think?”

 Jonny tore his gaze from the poised syringe and did his best to look relaxed and nonchalant despite the fact his heartrate had audibly trebled, “I think it’s always better to get the thing that scares you done first. Raph’s right though, she’s only doing it because she wants to make sure you’re okay inside and out. It won’t hurt, it’s more like getting a sharp pinch on your skin for a second and then it’s done.”

 He didn’t mention that it was fine when blood was being taken from you rather than a bunch of different poisons being injected into you over and over again to see how quickly each one affected you and how quickly you came back. How each one burned and cramped and ripped through every single system until he was desperate for death. He was the first after all. Carmilla had to make sure her new creation was full-proof and indestructible. That he could come back from anything.

 “How do you know?”

 Jonny smiled ruefully, “I’ve had a lot of injections over the years, given lots of samples too. It doesn’t hurt.” ‘It’s what comes after’ remained unsaid.

 “Oh.” Lily clearly thought about it, weighing up the pros and cons. She eyed the stethoscope on the science officer’s workbench. She knew how that worked at least. There was something right next to her that might make her feel braver. “If Raphaella takes a sample can, can I listen to your heart while she does it?”

 Jonny was halfway to opening his mouth to say ‘no’ on sheer reflex when Lily added in a small voice, “I don’t want to watch. I don’t like blood. It goes bad and gloopy and changes colour too quickly. And it smells horrible.”

 Well fuck. He could hardly say no to that.

 “You won’t be able to smell it Lily, it’ll be in the syringe.” Raphaella tried to distract, she was well aware of Jonny’s dislike of anything to do with exam practice. She was actually impressed he’d not just dumped Lily on her and run, that he’d taken part so far. He had more courage than she gave him credit for, that or a greater sense of guardianship than she’d expected. Either way, he was making her job much easier and she appreciated it.  

 Raphaella had tried to get a better understanding of his Mechanism not long after she’d joined the crew, intrigued by the ticking of his chest. She’d come at him with a stethoscope and woken up in the wreckage of her workbench recovering from 6 gunshot wounds.

 She hadn’t pursued that line of research further.

 “Still don’t like it.” Lily half spoke into Jonny’s chest and half to the science officer.

 “That’s fair enough.” Conceded Raphaella

 Lily’s eyes were doing the thing again. The thing where they took up half her face, she gazed imploringly up at him. “Please?”

 Fuck. He really had to immunise himself against that. Later. Now though?

 He swallowed. “Sure.”

 Raphaella raised an eyebrow, fully prepared to snatch Lily out of his arms and rocket skywards if he looked like he was going to detonate like he did last time.

 Jonny gave her tiniest nod.

 This was Lily. He shook himself internally. It was Lily. Lily couldn’t hurt him if she tried. Okay, well she could but she wasn’t armed right now and she liked his ticking. He forced himself to watch her, to brace for the touch of the disc. He’d be ready, he’d know. If he closed his eyes there was no guarantee he’d be able to hold it together for her. This was Lily reaching to him for comfort, he reminded himself firmly. She needed him to distract her from something frightening but necessary. Lily wasn’t going to sigh and tut and then open him up.

 He wasn’t strapped to a table.

 He forced himself to breathe as calmly as he could, the way Ivy had shown him from one of her books when he’d taken refuge once in the earliest incarnation of the library.

 He was fine, he was holding Lily. He was free to move. He was holding Lily and being reassuring because needles were frightening. He was proving it was fine. It was fine.

 The disc made contact.

 It took everything in him not to bolt.

 “Jonny, your ticking is very fast.” A little voice piped up matter-of-factly.

 Before he got a chance to answer Lily had already drawn her own conclusions.

 “I know I’m not a proper doctor like Raphaella but I won’t hurt you. See?” She took the disc off then pressed it even more gently against him, then rested her head on him too, trying to be reassuring.

 Fucking Hell. That she thought she could hurt him? Like this? At all? But the pressure helped. Carmilla had never been gentle with his chest. She’d never been gentle full stop.

 Lily was.

 This was Lily and it was fine. He held her a little tighter. “I like this,” she spoke quietly, as if she was speaking directly to his heart but then again, when wasn’t she? “I can hear your ticking all around. It’s going slower now.”

 It took two tries to speak.

 “T-That’s because you’re doing a good job.” Raphaella was watching him like a hawk, despite the fact he’d drained of colour and there was a noticeable (to her experienced eye at least) tremor running through him he was still sat still and solid for Lily, making no sign that he was about to flip her workbench.

 “I am?”

 “Of course.” He managed the ghost of his usual grin, “I don’t let just anyone listen to me.” If only she knew how true that was.

 Lily beamed at him, utterly delighted. Just as Raphaella took her moment.

 Jonny was aware enough of the situation to catch Lily’s face as she turned to see the source of the sudden pinch, directing her back to look at him, the surprised ‘Eeep!’ already escaping her lips. “Keep looking this way Lemondrop, it’s alright. Keep listening to the ticking.”

 Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

 “It’s alright,” he ran his fingers through her hair, hating that she was upset, hating that they were doing this. He’d always sworn he’d have nothing to do with anything like this but here he was. A necessary evil. “It’s alright, she’ll be done soon. You’re being very brave.” He didn’t dare rock her and risk jostling the needle so he hummed instead.

 She clung to him with her other hand, with a muffled whimper but did as he asked. It didn’t hurt, not really but the idea of something being stuck in her was an idea she didn’t like. Still, Jonny had her and she could hear his ticking loud and clear and he said she was being brave so that was good. She could hear him humming Rose Red as well and she couldn’t help but relax, Jonny had her, she could hear his ticks and the humming and she could smell his spicesmokewhiskey.

 It was okay.

 She was safe.

 They were looking after her because she was part of the crew, they cared about her. It was alright.

 All at once there was the feel of something going away and something pressing on her arm.

 “There we go, all done, good girl, you’ve been very brave.” Raphaella finished taping the small cotton gauze to her arm covering the tiny pinprick of blood.

 Lily took a moment to take in the sight of her arm and then the science officer, Raphaella had been right, it hadn’t hurt. It had been scary because she wasn’t sure what it would be like and she was scared it would hurt because they were bigger and stronger and braver than her and that they said it wouldn’t hurt because it wouldn’t hurt them when they had to have needles in them but actually, it had been a bit of a shock but it hadn’t hurt at all and Jonny had made her feel safe all the way through and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or let anything else hurt her anyway.

 She gave a sunny smile to Raphaella.

 “It didn’t hurt!”

 Despite herself, Raphaella was rather pleased, she allowed a knowing grin to bloom across her face, rather than the haughty scoff that she saved for the others, “I did say.”

 “You did!” Lily beamed wider.

 “Well I’m glad I was proved correct. Are you ready for me to take a turn listening to you?”

 “Yes.”

 “Good, I just need a listen to your chest and then we’re all done. Can I have the stethoscope back?”

 Lily carefully removed the buds from her ears and hand the piece of equipment back, she missed hearing Jonny’s ticking quite so loudly. She leaned against him instead.

 Raphaella decided not to comment on the sudden drop in tension from Jonny the second the disc was taken away from his chest.

 With gentle efficiency she had the device in her own ears.

 “Can you sit up straight for a moment please?” Lily did so, “then take some nice deep breaths for me.”

 Lily did the best she could.

 After a few minutes Raphaella sat back, satisfied.

 Her initial suspicions were well founded, Lily was almost chronically underweight and under-height but that could be fixed with care. Her lungs and heart seemed strong through and her reflexes as well as hand to eye coordination were sharp and focused, ears and throat were clear of infection too and that was the most common source of ailments for human children according to her research. Lily was a fighter and, pending the results of the blood tests had no reason not to make a full recovery. That was pleasing and definitely worth the few uncomfortable moments.

 She gave Jonny a short nod over Lily’s head.

 The relief in his face was something Raphaella was going to remember for long time to come. She might find him deeply irritating most of the time but he’d certainly proved himself when it counted. He was many things but could not be accused of being a selfish bastard. At least, not right now.

 “Alright then, all done here. I think you’ve earned something nice.”

 “Really?” Lily perked up even more.

 “Oh yes.”

 “What?”

 “I happen to know Brian’s been busy in the kitchen with Marius.” She happened to know exactly because they’d planned it earlier, it was only fair for Lily to get some sort of recompense for having to go through something unpleasant. It was something they all wished they had had when they were young (not to mention everything that had happened since they were young).

 The excited squeal that erupted was something that warmed both of the adults in the room and would certainly not get passed on to the chocolate cake bakers. It wouldn’t do to give them ideas after all.

 Not for the first time they found themselves hand in hand with Lily, swinging the excited child all the way to the mess.

 Raphaella came back to the present and smiled as she held the currently comforted and sleeping Lily, the child had got far more used to the weekly check-ups following the first one, it helped that her blood came back fine and healthy, no underlying issues to be concerned about so no more blood tests were needed.

 She still liked to listen to Jonny’s heart with the stethoscope during the check-ups.

 Jonny still endured it for her sake.

 Raphaella thought that over the weeks he’d looked a little more relaxed each time.

 The check-ups proved what they were seeing in real time. Lily was mending. She was putting on healthy weight and starting to grow, her skin was starting to have a glow to it again. It felt nice to have used her research and scientific approach for unquestionable good for once. She’d shared her findings with them all. The rest were pleased too. They’d made a comprehensive list of supplies with Ivy and Raph’s information that Ashes organised and sourced. Marius and Brian eagerly added more recipes to the collection and the others made a point of each eating vaguely healthy snacks every so often so as to not make Lily feel like she was the odd one out. Regular mealtimes helped too.

 It was satisfying to see that improvement over time, Lily was proving to be a fascinating research study that Raphaella was very much invested in. It was also immensely satisfying that the rest of the crew was just as invested her topic of study for once. Seeing Lily grow and heal and improve was something that was having a positive effect on the rest of the crew, she’d noticed (and made notes of course) that the crew interacted more frequently and more positively usually when Lily was present but sometimes even without her there. These developments were, pleasing, to put it into layman terms. Though Raphaella wasn’t entirely sure why. It would take further investigation of course but she did have eyes, the positive interactions were slowly improving the general well-being in the crew, communal mealtimes and friendlier banter seemed to be improving moods across the board.

 Most notably of course was Jonny.

 His general comportment had softened a little, his violent outbursts reduced and he definitely looked like he was sleeping more regularly. Raphaella estimated his alcohol consumption had dropped by a least a bottle a night which was rather impressive, it wasn’t like the alcohol did anything long term since all their mechanisms prevented permanent internal damage, especially when one was killed far too frequently to even consider organ failure due to extensive alcohol poisoning. But still, it was nice to see him looking more, centred, for lack of a better word.

 Heavy boots made their appearance on the peripheries of her hearing.

 Think of the devil…

 Raphaella took a moment to soak up the situation, Lily had fallen asleep against her peacefully and easily as if she were her mother. It was a completely new experience but not an unpleasant one it turned out. Raphaella had enjoyed introducing the scientific process to Lily over the past three months, teaching her the basic principles of chemistry and physics and now botany since she’d set up the hydroponics lab with Nastya and Ivy. That had been a fun collaboration and all three enjoyed Lily’s delight at each seed sprouted and new leaf grown.

 She’d added a whole new strand of research to her study too, the poisons and toxins of plants were fascinating and she was eager to put those to good use when the next opportunity arrived. There was always opportunity for hybridisation too. Excellent.

 The heavy boots stopped right outside the lab door followed by an uncharacteristically gentle knock.

 “Come in Jonny.”

 The first mate entered looking annoyed at the presumption that quickly melted into relief when he saw a sleeping Lily in her arms.

 The science officer gave him an appraising look. Despite the obvious panic at not knowing where Lily was Jonny still looked calmer and better rested than he had for centuries. Raphaella found she liked that look on him, he seemed far more settled, music rehearsals with everyone had become a lot more productive too, always a bonus.

 She still found it funny he refused to use his ship communicator to ask the group chat where Lily was on an evening she had a late nightmare-startled wander, clearly too proud to admit he’d lost her. It wasn’t as if she could get into any real danger any more. Both the Octokittens and Stowaways knew not to touch her and Aurora wouldn’t let her get lost anywhere too dangerous. Then again, the day he did they knew it would be a serious one.

 As it was the first mate was only looking marginally stressed and panicked, a whole lot better than she’d seen him look.

 Jonny took in the sight of Raphaella as he entered the lab. From the lights behind her and a sleeping Lily in her arms the science officer resembled an angel that he’d seen statues of on multiple worlds, beautiful and terrible, just as he remembered the preacher talking about on Sundays when he was small. He’d seen what Raph could do to somewhere or someone that irked her and he’d come to believe all those stories.

 Still, the look she was giving Lily as he walked in was something else, it was a face he knew she saved just for Lily, that slight softness, a pride in her eyes and smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

 Jonny knew Raphaella was incredibly pleased by the progress Lily had made both physically and with all the science lessons she’d been teaching, Lily had talked his ear off about all the things she’d made by experimenting. The physical checks were good too, in their way. Much as he hated them. If he really had to admit it, the checks were worth it, it was good to know Lily was on the right track at least, that they weren’t making a mess of her, at least not physically.

 “Thought she might be here.” Came his way of explanation,

 “Well congratulations.”

 “She been here long?”

 “Only half an hour or so.”

 “Good.” He stayed curt, not wanting to give her room to rinse him more than he was expecting, Raphaella had a way with words that could cut like one of her scalpels if he wasn’t careful, most of the time it didn’t bother him but if it was about Lily and how he handled her, it tended to cut to the core of him, much to his annoyance.

 “How did you lose her this time?”

 “I didn’t lose her!” he snapped, “She just got up when I wasn’t around. I do check the times on things you know, she’s usually up at 11, 1 and 3 so much that you can set a metronome by her. It’s not my fault she just got up out of sequence!”

 “And you weren’t in your room because?” pressed Raphaella, not giving an inch.

 “Because I wasn’t!”

 “Jonny,” Began the science officer in a deceptively gentle voice, “I could wake her up and make Lily ask you with her big blue accusing eyes.”

 The first mate looked furious he was about to say ‘you wouldn’t dare’ but Raph absolutely would to prove a point and he really didn’t want to risk having to admit the truth to Lily, he found it incredibly hard to lie to her properly after all.

 “Fine, Lily mentioned a birthday coming up some months from now and I am making something for that. Away from my room. Lost track of time. That’s it.” He ground out.

 “A secret something I take it?” Raphaella teased, amused to have caught him in such an obvious lie, Jonny on the whole was usually quite good at lying. He managed it effortlessly on stage after all. And he was damned good poker player.

 “You won’t find it.”

 “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the bits of clothing several of us have missed over the last few weeks would it?”

 Jonny’s ears began to turn red.

 “No.”

 ‘Aha.’ Thought Raphaella. But she was intrigued enough to let it stand, it was honestly rather refreshing to have Jonny do something vaguely productive outside of his musical and lyrical talents, repair work not-withstanding. There were only so many theoretical studies of chronic alcohol abuse and sleep deprivation she could observe before it got tiresome. This proved to be far more interesting.

 “Alright then, well I await to see the results with bated breath.”

 “Fuck off Raph.”

 “I could just wake her.”

 “I could just shoot you.”

 “You know you won’t.”

 The impotent rage on Jonny’s face was amusing to witness.

 “Fine, but I fill find a way to make you suffer.”

 “I look forward to it.”

 He matched her feral grin, feeling like he’d at least gained somewhat of an upper hand he moved on to the more important issue, Lily hadn’t been out of her bed unexpectedly for the last month, not since she found Brian during the poker game.  

 “What was it about this time?”

 “Doors being rattled and banged on by enemies in the dark.”

 “Oh, standard then. Good.”

 “Standard? I thought they were all like this one?” This was interesting, there were others? Raphaella got halfway through that thought and froze.

 Uh, Jonny realised he’d not actually shared a lot of detail of Lily’s nightmares, he passed on the basics to everyone at Tim’s insistence after she’d climbed in with him, demanding to know at least what they might have to deal with if the crew was now fair game to ask comfort from. The others had backed him up, the bastards, and he’d been forced to share a bit. He didn’t really want to, nightmares were private things after all and it wasn’t fair for him to share stuff that bothered someone else but as it had been pointed out, Lily was a child whom they all cared about, whom they were all guardians for and thus they all needed to know likely sources of upset and triggers to avoid when they spent time together, either during the day or if they happened to be the ones to comfort her at night.

 He’d relented, wanting to make sure she always had some solid options for comfort. He knew in excruciating detail how unpleasant it could be to suffer that sort of fear and misery on your own. Until you learned to ignore and bury it that is.

 So the others knew the basics at least, it was always the threat of attack, rattling and banging and bellowing in the dark unsurprisingly. He tended to keep the extra details to himself though, he knew how desperately Lily wanted to be seen as a ‘big girl’ by the crew. Even though there was nothing she could say or do that would actually make them think she was somehow less. Kid had endured enough and was still pretty functional, that was one hell of an achievement already. And she was stil mortal.

 Sometimes her nightmares was flavoured with gunfire (though not Tim’s apparently, that sounded different according to Lily, Jonny had no idea how the hell gunfire could sound ‘friendly’ but supposedly Tim’s did-children clearly had a higher nuance of sound perception-it made music lessons all the more interesting that was for sure), sometimes it was visions of what was left of her crew, her parents dying and on one particularly horrendous night images of her parents demanding to know why she hadn’t saved them. He had mentioned that one to Marius and then the rest of the crew since it had taken the singing of the entirety of ‘Alice’ to lull her back to sleep bookended with ‘Rose Red.’

 The one about her being left behind that she told to Brian was concerning, that one he had talked to the others about straight away, worried that taking her to a planet had, in fact, been a bad move. Given that that was as near as an admission to the idea he’d been wrong about wanting to take her planetside actually had them all discussing it properly with only minimal jeering. It ended up being pointed out that since it was such a new experience, even though it had been very positive, Lily’s subconscious was so traumatised it wasn’t surprising it had sparked off a different set of nightmares.

 It had assuaged the guilt a little at least. He was glad she clearly had really enjoyed the visit.

 “Jonny?”

 He realised he’d been staring into the middle distance and not actually talking. Shit.

 He refocused on her. A look crossed Raphaella’s face that he’d seen maybe once or twice before in all the years he’d known her. A hint of worry.

 “Does, does she have nightmares about what we, what I,” she corrected, “do here?”

 That question knocked him sideways, his initial instinctive bastard response died on his lips. This was Raphaella actually asking him, Jonny, for reassurance, reassurance that what she was doing wasn’t physcologically damaging their charge. He’d never seen the science officer look unsure before. Jonny realised he had a choice, he could lie and tell her that yes, the check-ups upset Lily and he’d had to calm her down from a lot of nightmares inspired by Raph’s actions or, or he could be honest.

 He thought about how genuinely devastated he’d be if one of the others told him that the reason Lily had come to them wasn’t because she couldn’t find him but that she was scared of him, that she’d had a nightmare about him because of something he’d done. He felt his guts twist. No, he couldn’t do that to Raphaella, he could murder her happily along with the rest of the crew whenever Lily wasn’t about and he’d been suitably bored or antagonised but lying about this?

 He couldn’t do it.

 If he stopped to think about it, there were quite a few things he couldn’t do now. All involved Lily, he couldn’t lie to the others about her, they were all in this together, more so than anything they’d been bound by previously. Jonny knew he was the primary source of Lily information but he actually respected that fact and that he should share as much as was reasonable to make sure it was as easy for the others to comfort and look after her as possible. This communal guardianship parenting thing they’d fallen into was working but it needed proper communication much as it felt like pulling teeth sometimes. It was needed so he did it. So they all did it.

 He fixed Raphaella with as sincere look as he could manage.

 “No Raph, she’s never had a nightmare about you or the check-ups, I think she’d settled into them, always asks me stuff about what you do in the lab so I reckon you’re fine.”

 Raphaella tried and failed not to look relieved.

 “Oh, well, thank you that’s, that’s preferable.”

 Yeah, it is. Her ship’s done enough of a number on her, she’s been here long enough now to know, I think, that we’re not trying to fuck her up.

 That seems like a reasonable conclusion. She’s not been put off by what she sees on a daily basis, between Tim’s shooting practice, TS’s stories and my science if that’s not affected her negatively then, for the moment we may remain in grace period.

 “What do we do when that ends?”

 “We’ll have to slowly introduce more regular elements of life on board to get her more used to things, little by little, it seems to be working so far.”

 Jonny considered, Raph did have a point, last week something had exploded and whilst Lily had gone stock-still and the colour drained out of her face she hadn’t cried or outwardly panicked, instead asked Jonny very quietly if they could find out what happened, because ‘it was probably Tim trying his new canon that he had been showing her through the building process but could they go and check please just to make sure?’

 So they had and it was. Jonny was feeling pretty fucking murderous but Tim had ignored him and got there first, explaining when they arrived exactly what he’d been upto, that he was sorry it went off without her there to see but the trigger had been too sensitive. He’d shown Lily the system and rig so that she understood the weapon and where the sound had come from, feeling much happier that she knew this was something to protect them and not a sign that they were under attack.

 Jonny had planned an elaborate murder for Tim and braced himself for an onslaught of nightmares that never came. Well they did but it was just the usual, banging on the doors in the dark one nothing to do with Tim or his explosions. He’d been waiting a full eight days and nothing. He was beginning to suspect Tim’s approach of including Lily in the construct of the weapon really had been a big help. Clever bastard.

 “Yeah, that’s, that’s probably as good a plan as we’ve got.”

 Raphaella considered, Jonny didn’t have to have been kind a moment ago. But he was. She’d almost entirely forgotten what it was like to be concerned about the long-term effects of her science and she hadn’t liked the feeling whatsoever. He could have made it worse and didn’t. That certainly counted for something and definitely towards her working theory about him and his own developmental track.

 “It’s probably better than what she would have in any other circumstance or with anyone else who might have rescued her. We’re all doing well with her, physically and mentally, we’re all in this together and it’s working, I can see it in my results and charts as clearly as I see it on her, against more odds than I think even Ivy would be comfortable calculating we’re improving her, as a crew, she’s healing and mending, and,” she considered her words, “you’re both the catalyst and accelerator in this compound of all of us, with all the variables.”

 Jonny began to open his mouth.

 “You’re good for her, my research indicates it.” Elaborated Raphaella stiffly. Being kind and gentle with Lily was far easier than she expected it to be, transversely being articulately kind to her crewmates was decidedly harder, she’d had very little practice and took refuge in her scientific terms, they always flowed more easily.

 Jonny’s eyes widened at the implication of what she was saying. That it was her saying it.

 Still, with him, sometimes actions spoke louder than words.

 Very carefully she handed over Lily to him, fuzzy rock thing and all, taking care to catch Jonny’s hand in the process and squeeze it for the briefest of moments.

 She was deeply surprised to receive a returning squeeze, equally as brief.

 She tried to read his face, a myriad of expressions flitted over him, shock, confusion, wariness, pride and elation before settling back to his default of ‘cocky bastard smirk’

 He held Lily close a moment then allowed a softer, sincere expression to linger in his eyes, “Thanks Raph, s’what the crew’s for, everyone’s got a job with this one.”

 He sobered and shifted, face returning to its usual look, his regular swagger sliding into his stance, “See you at breakfast.” He threw out his familiar feral grin without the need or will to add a snarky comment and sauntered out with a Lily tucked up against his chest who was at least half an inch taller and several pounds heavier than when she arrived.

 They were working as a crew and it was mending Lily.

 Not for the first time Raphaella considered the pair as they left her lab, a fond smile spreading across her face. The unlikeliness of this scenario had already cost Ivy one full notebook but the science officer could honestly conclude that she was deeply satisfied by this anomaly and looked forward to the further variables it generated.

 Otherwise, what even was the point?

 Smile still on her face she settled down to update her research log on the day’s nocturnal events. Her file was getting decidedly long.

 Raphaella found that only pleased her more.

[mythandlaur]

Burai here on anon, rip Side-blog personal blog. Anywhoo-- The Will of the Swarm, Children of the Archives, Light Unseen, and are ya winning the tournament son. If you don't mind.

The WIP Tag Game

@buraidragon​ You should know these--you were involved in at least two of them.

Lots of text under the cut!

The Will of the Swarm (working title only) - Spiral Knights - 2018

A collaborative project with friends Burai and apprenticeNerd; a roleplay adaptation that would’ve made for a multichapter fic. Knight-Elite Ixtharion and his protégé, the slightly pyromaniacal Ashoza, are called on for a cryptic rescue mission in the Wildwoods, only to find the person they’re rescuing is none other than Parma, reconnaissance specialist of the lost Alpha Squad, who bears worrying information from the Core and evidence of her claims in the form of a dark miasma that appears to have eaten away her right arm. Ix has some knowledge on prosthetics, and takes over the effort to get Parma set up with one, facilitating interaction and camaraderie between the trio--and it’s them who chase after Parma when she delves back into the deepest layers of the Clockworks upon word coming back of the fate of the Alpha Squad’s technician...consumed by the Swarm and working for Herex.

I still really enjoy this concept tbh??? Like I don’t know if I could WRITE write it but if you guys still wanted to poke at it after all this time I’d be game. I don’t have a snippet, but I do have some nigh-incomprehensible notes from a document dated August 2018

Events:

Parma needs to recover a little bit, explore Haven when she can (her arm’s definitely going though)

Ix dinner party

Discussion of important things/she lets them in on what she found

Vanguards find Shadow Rulen in the depths and Parma immediately runs off looking, Ix and Shoza having to follow after her

Other ideas and stuff:

Scout slowly becomes a Seraphynx

Drunk Ashoza happens at some point

Concepts:

Shadow Rulen/Technomancer Rulen:

Is possessed/corrupted by the Swarm and taken in by Herex

Speaks in the plural in this state

Creates a very large mech (possibly named “Omega” something for irony?)

Swarm turret gatling gun

Shard bomb launcher

Tears out bits of the world and slams them down on enemies

Weak to overheading

Last ditch attempts to escape deeper into the core

Potential concept of Rulen losing his body to the Swarm and becoming a spirit who possesses/manipulates technology

Grantz’s Sword:

This dude took his oath way too seriously and stuck around even after dying, possessing his sword which remains around the core

Doesn’t realize he’s dead

Inadvertently possesses whatever knight holds the sword

---

Children of the Archives - Hollow Knight - 2019

Another collaborative project between the same trio, an AU affectionately referred to as “Monomom”. There isn’t so much a plot summation for this as there are a bunch of concepts; basically, in this verse, a very large amount of Vessels find their way out of the Abyss and into the Teacher’s Archives, becoming mainstays around there long before the Infection starts to take hold. Though Monomon still fulfils her duty, she isn’t happy about it or the Pale King’s plan, and Quirrel stays behind to take care of the Vessels after she’s gone, though becomes infected as a result. Several events in the game go differently, partially because Hornet is aware of the vessels and is more open with Ghost because of that awareness. Was meant to probably be a verse with a lot of domestic nonsense going on overall.

I don’t have a snippet, but there’s a doc with a lot of concepts, including about three pages’ worth of Vessels created between the three of us. Have some favorites:

Trio - Early model, has three arms. Acts like the older brother to other Vessels. Probably has three small Nails. 

Ase - Broken Vessel, stoic leader, mature, has been wandering longer than the others, cares about siblings more than themself - Insists they’re strong and independent and don’t need help, try to get to the void, fail, several others from the Archives sneak out to drag them back to the Archives badly injured and scare the living daylights out of Quirrel

Lantern - Likes putting lumaflies in their head. Yes, the eyes glow depending how many there are. Theoretically if they Consume the shock ones, they could have laser beam eyes? 

Vault - Taller and thicker vessel that likes storing stuff inside of them. Not a fighter. They fight by flinging stone writings at people and running.

Spite - Seven horns, is upset about that, breaks one off that forms the core of their nail, always down to fight. Will probably stab you if you insult a sibling.

Ink - Gets really good at making ink, their shell’s always stained, loves learning, pesters the students. Probably carries brushes instead, and would hang around Sheo for art.

Legion- One Shade spread over five Vessels. They act as a collective within a collective. If threatened will pile into a very stable tower and initiate a five-tiered Loom. Highly skilled in combat, as you need to take all five of them out within a short time period to fully incapacitate them. You might find one of their Shells roaming Fog Canyon, too keep a scout’s eye out for any potential dangers. If nothing else, they’re bouncing off of jellyfish because it’s fun. Each Shell of Leigon’s has a pentagon inked onto the back, with a dot in each corner responding to which Shell it is. Legion’s shade is as large as Hollow’s. 

Smith: Slightly-large Vessel, missing a leg, really wants to be a Nailsmith. Alters between studying under The Nailsmith and practicing Nailcrafting on sibling’s blades. Keeps them in shape, if nothing else. Has a metal peg-leg they are perfectly willing to take off and smack you with if they’ve lost their nail.

---

Light Unseen - Destiny 2 - 2019

A backstory oneshot for Kaira, a blind Guardian only capable of seeing traces of Light where it’s present, and her Ghost, Nel, who acts as her guide. This particular bit of writing was meant to be Kaira and Nel’s first meeting, and Kaira’s first (and second) revival, as Nel tries to figure out how to accommodate her and help her escape from a Cabal ambush in the EDZ, eventually assisted by more experienced Guardians Irina and Elara-4, who become Kaira’s good friends.

I really, really love this character and I really, really want to do something more with her, but D2′s writing has gone in the crapper since Forsaken and I don’t agree with basically anything Bungie’s done with the game in the last year, so I’m in a bit of a pickle. I do have a snippet, though. Trigger warning for a brief description of an extremely long-dead corpse/skeleton.

Other Ghosts do this for years, he’s heard. But for him, it only takes a few minutes.

Sticking out of some bushes, the Ghost finds a leg. Not much of a leg, of course; the flesh has long since rotted away, and the elements have left just the barest scraps of fabric from the deceased’s clothes. As he delves into the bushs, branches scraping and poking at his shell, he sees the rest of the remains tangled inside are similarly skeletal. The skull is the worst, mangled and caved in around the eye sockets. He wonders how they’d come to be in a place like this, in a state like that. Had they fallen? Had someone, or something, tried to hide their body?

There’s no way for him to know, and he doubts he ever will. But it doesn’t matter, because what he does know is that this is it.

He doesn’t know in any logical capacity, but he knows because he can feel something inside of those bones reacting to his presence, like a pair of magnets drawn to each other’s polarities. He feels...warm, and whole, and his shell is buzzing as if with errant electricity, except it is not electricity, it is Light, his Light, the Light the Traveler had given him with the sole purpose of passing that wonderful gift on to another.

Their body isn’t really in an ideal position for resurrection, and he can’t do much about that given his lack of both size and limbs. But that doesn’t dampen his growing excitement, as he looks at those bones and wonders not for the first time what they’ll be like, what sort of adventures they’ll go on together.

There’s only one way to find out, he knows.

The red-shelled Ghost hovers there, relishing this moment of anticipation for a few seconds longer. And then, he can’t contain it any longer.

He opens himself up to the gift of the Light, and it all but consumes him; his form expands, a little blue sun with little metal planets orbiting around it, and every mechanical sensor cuts out. The part of him that isn’t mechanical reaches out, and from the tiny floating solar system comes a beam that bathes the lost bones in Light.

Flesh reforms itself in the wake of shimmering waves, and clothes over that. The skull rearranges its broken, twisted parts and knits itself back together. After what feels like an age to him, his sensors come back online as his shell wraps around him again, and he drifts back to check his handiwork.

They wear the cloak, hood, and mask of a Hunter, hiding their face. Their shape is vaguely feminine--he’s going to assume until they tell him themself. Her chest rises and falls slowly with her newly-restored breathing, as if she’s not yet fully awake, and she doesn’t seem to realize the fact that she’s lying in a bush.

“...Guardian?” He quells his excitement, trying to keep his voice soft as he flies in closer to her face--then quickly back as he realizes he may be too close. The branches rustle with a slight movement of her arm, and her head turns sluggishly. “Guardian, wake up. I’m sorry, I couldn’t move you--you’re going to have to get up.”

She tilts her head slightly upwards towards his voice. For a moment, there’s no other reaction, but then the words seem to register and she starts pushing herself into a sitting position. Branches snap and crack as she pushes against them, struggling, before she seems to realize a better way and starts sliding her feet along the ground, dragging herself out with her knees little by little until she can sit up unhindered. Once she’s up, she crosses her legs under her and sets her hands in her lap, chin dropped towards her chest as he hovers around her to make sure she’s all in one piece.

He can hardly believe it. His Guardian, living and breathing once again, right here in front of him. The Ghost flies around to hang in front of her face. “How do you feel?” No response, no acknowledgment. He guesses she’s still a little rattled. “Not much of a talker? Okay, you don’t have to talk right now, but we do need to get moving, there’s--”

The Hunter abruptly raises her head, and he stops talking. In the silence, a loud rumbling can be heard, gradually growing louder. Seconds pass, and he turns his eye upward to see a shadow in the sky above the trees--a very familiar shadow, as he’s seen several of these during his scouting missions.

“...Maybe they’ll pass us.”

The dropship stops in the air, almost directly overhead. The side of a wing is all he can see, but he can hear grunts and shouts all too close nearby, feet hitting the ground hard.

So, he’d been quite lucky to find his Guardian so quickly and easily. But apparently, he’d used up all that luck at once, and now a Cabal scouting party is here, for whatever reason.

“You know what I said about moving? We’re going to need to start on that right now.” The Ghost quickly disappears in a shimmer of light, still keeping an eye out around them. “I’m still here. I’ll explain everything later, I promise, but right now we’ve got to run. I’ve got a marker up for you, just follow that and don’t stop. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

The Hunter stumbles to her feet, holding her arms out to steady herself. The Light is still waking inside of her; she probably doesn’t know how to control it, and without a gun, running is their only chance. She glances about wildly, and then takes off--not exactly in the direction of his marker, but he trusts she’s got a plan. If she’s a Hunter, she’s likely got impeccable instincts.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

You know I had to do it. This is a oneshot based in an AU where Sig’s ancestor, Ajisai, is reconstituted by the deus ex machina duo themselves, Ecolo and (much to their chagrin) Satan. After spending a few weeks living in the middle of nowhere, Ajisai hears about an upcoming Puyo tournament and decides to participate in the festivities, using it as an excuse to endear themself to varying degrees to the students and visitors. Eventually, they confront Satan about his unacceptable behavior, and get a hint that Satan’s actions may be a bit more tragic than merely pathetic.

Basically this is just ‘what if Ajisai lived because I want to write more for them and I want to see how they’d interact with more characters’. It’s mostly just me goofing in 15th anniversary’s style and I don’t know if people would be interested, but I’m getting some enjoyment out of it.

Looking down on Primp Town from the ridge is rather like watching a beehive--except instead of honeycomb, the excited bees are rushing about building a network of colorful streamers and decorations hanging between buildings.

“You certainly have a lot of celebrations here, don’t you.”

Sig gives the barest of shrugs, not even bothering to glance up from the caterpillar that’s made itself at home on a finger of his claw. “Guess so. It’s fun, though.”

“What is it this time? The Primp Festival wasn’t too long ago. It can’t be that again, can it?”

“Puyo tournament. The school’s running it.”

“Ah, I see.”

“They did it last year, too. Bunch of Arle’s friends showed up.”

“You do realize I was there for the last one, yes?”

Sig finally looks over, and they patiently wait for him to arrive at the realization. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Ajisai chuckles quietly under their breath as their descendant goes back to admiring the caterpillar. It is easy to forget that they’d been present during many of the major events in Sig’s life, if only because they look and act so different now that they have a whole body to themself again. It’s a small price to pay for their freedom, of course, and they owe Ecolo a great deal for the service.

Well, not just Ecolo, they suppose. There had been...others involved.

“It’s different playing in it yourself, though,” Sig continues after a pause. Ajisai shakes their head to dislodge the loose thoughts before turning back to him.

“Are you going to be joining in this year, then?”

“Yeah.” A tiny smile comes to Sig’s face, though he still doesn’t look up. Nothing more needs to be said, so a comfortable silence stretches on between them, as Sig watches the caterpillar climb his arm and offers his right hand to crawl on instead so he doesn’t lose the little thing. Meanwhile, Ajisai can’t help but glance back down towards the frenetic party preparations, slight fangs poking at their lower lip in thought.

They’ve been alive and well for at least two weeks now, and only four people even know about it; they’ve either been staying at Sig’s house rereading the collection they’d passed down to him or wandering about the Forest of Nahe aimlessly, occasionally slipping into town at night to have a look around before quickly leaving again. But...they’d like to go into town, if only to visit the library. There are so many of Sig’s classmates they’d never gotten to meet properly, too. After so long isolated, they finally remember what it’s like to feel a need for companionship.

There’s only the question of if they deserve it. If they’ll be welcome there.

Ajisai takes a deep breath. “Is this tournament only for the students?”

“No,” Sig replies without missing a beat, “Bunch of other people are probably gonna play. Arle’s friends, Ringo’s friends, the space guys, Ally…Dunno who’s coming, but I’d be surprised if those guys didn’t.”

“Hm.”

“You wanna play too?” Sig takes his attention from the caterpillar, looking over at them with half-lidded, questioning eyes and pursed lips. “You’re really good.”

“Well…” Leave it to their ‘nephew’ to see right through them. Ajisai looks away, hair flicking in slight agitation. They’ve picked up a thing or two about Puyo over the years, it’s true--they’ve even given some of Sig’s classmates a run for their money in the past. Though that only brings up the circumstances of those battles, which were...less than ideal. “Do you think they’d be willing to have me?”

“You’d have to ask Ms. Accord.” Typical Sig--doesn’t even notice their internal struggle, or perhaps he does and doesn’t think it’s an issue. He points down at the town with a clawed finger. “She’s probably down there helping set up.”

Ajisai narrows their eyes, considering it. They suppose the worst that can happen is them being told no and having to go back to the forest, but the idea of just walking into town as they are is a bit unnerving. Still… “Would you mind if I went down there now, then?”

“Go ahead,” Sig says, focus returning to the caterpillar. They can’t help but chuckle a bit under their breath at their nephew’s fascination, the same all-consuming interest that they had for books and stories. 

Ajisai stands, shaking the grass out of their cape before resting a hand on Sig’s left shoulder and squeezing slightly. “Don’t go running off,” they say with a wry smirk, fully aware that Sig will probably still be watching the caterpillar twenty minutes from now.

Sig knows it too, and huffs a little, amused snort through his nose. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

[red-applesith]

You're very dismissive of reyloismine. They had so many things right last time, you can't deny it.

Look, as I said I had no idea who that person was before the last anon. I’m all for giving people the benefit of the doubt, and since you’re all so insisting that this person is legit I went to sleuth into their archive to make up my own mind. If you’ve been following me for a while you know I do not take anyone’s word at face value, especially when it comes to leaks and stuff like that.

I’m putting my observations under ‘read more’ and I don’t tag that post because I’m not interested in calling out anyone but my conclusion is that person read the Visual Dictionary one way or another right before it was leaked, because the only detail they had right and no one had predicted was the green milk and that info appeared on Reddit on Dec. 7 via the VD. That’s also the detail they chose to “prove their legitimacy” when objectively there could have been so many more interesting details pertaining to Reylo. Like if they had said “Kylo Ren slides in the corridors like a 4-year-old or “they hold hands” I would believe they were legit. 

Otherwise, from their blog, I have 0 evidence that between Dec. 5th and Dec. 14th they shared information that no one had been able to deduce from watching the trailers, reading the interviews or the leaks on Reddit (aka Shirtless Kylo for instance), especially because they talked like your typical psychic i.e.”Oh yeah, I said that but I didn't’ give details of where and when and I won’t.” or “I’m talking openly about seeing the movie and sharing my old speculation thread where I was about 15% correct pretending I was so right but I won’t say more because I don’ want to spoil the movie for people.” Even saying that there are “good and bad Reylo scenes” means jackshit.

So anyway, Nonnie, you do you but I don’t have to place my trust in someone who couldn’t provide real details and quotes before the movie came out.

Also now I’m annoyed at myself because I wasted the whole morning on that. 

On November 1st that person posted their timeline speculation that goes like that (Bolded Italic their words - my comments underneath. Pictures are theirs)

Episode 8 starts, where the last movie ends: Rey and Luke literal cliffhanger.

Everybody believed that would be the case because one of the first detail that came out from interviews is that there wouldn’t be any time jump, which is why the crew was back filming in Ireland.

However, turns out that the movie starts on D’Qar when they evacuate the base so the prediction for the movie itself isn’t 100% correct.

Luke bewildered, takes the lightsaber that once belonged to his father from a stranger. He asked who is she and how she found him. Rey tells him Leia sent her and that he is needed.

That was an easy one. We* pretty much all had deduced from the way Luke look at Rey at the end of TFA. 

(*collective reylo) 

Luke returns the lightsaber, does not want to be involved, and starts to retreats to his cave when Rey takes off her vest, and showing him that she is force sensitive.

The idea of Luke not wanting anything to do with Rey is there, but the hut/cave scenes and training scenes are all mixed up. There again, that wasn’t groundbreaking speculation since a lot of reylo fanfics started with the premise that Luke doesn’t want to train Rey.

The next day, Luke finds Rey still waiting for him. She was meditating, and he tries to guide her. With his help, her power grew, cracking the floor beneath them.

Continuation of the reluctant master theory, mitigated by the fact we had images of Rey cracking the rock beneath her but Rey wasn’t meditating before he found her. That’s all mixed up.

“I’ve seen this raw strength once before. It didn’t scare me then, it does now“ says Luke and dismisses her once again.

That was in the trailer and it made sense that it was that scene.

Kylo Ren wakes up and finds himself alive on the Supremacy. He does not remember how he got there. The last thing he remember is the scavenger defeating him on Starkiller base. His wounds have been treated, but the scars will remain. A daily reminder of his defeat.

That’s the start of about every fanfics. We knew that Hux had retrieved Kylo and we knew he had the scar from the promo pictures but it didn’t happen like that + turns out Kylo doesn’t even mention the scar at all.

He is escorted to Snoke, who belittles him for being defeated by a girl. He demands from Kylo to prove himself once again. Dismissing killing his father as any form of achievement. Then he is presented with his mask and lightsaber, salvaged from Starkiller base. Snoke orders him to wear it to hide the disgraceful scar.

Same, most fanfics had that kind of element. Snoke being an abuser it was evident he would belittle Kylo and call him on his failure. But the sentiment regarding the scar and the mask was completely wrong.

Once Kylo Ren is back to his chambers, he could not control his rage and destroys his mask.

That came directly from the trailer but it wasn’t in his chambers.

Kylo Ren acts fast and tracks the Resistance fleet, desperately wanting to prove his loyalty. To his surpise, he senses his mother being onboard, and Leia talks to her son. Asking him to come home.

They deduced that almost right from the trailers, apart from the fact that Leia doesn’t say anything at all.

It caught him off guard. He hesitates firing at her ship, then tells his mother to run away and buys her some time before he fires eventually to cover his tracks.

Same. The not firing comes from the trailer but Kylo’s supposed intention to buy some time for Leia to run away was really incorrect.

The Resistance fights back, Leia escapes unharmed and Rose helps an unconcious Finn escape as well.

100% incorrect. 

Back to Ach-to, Rey experiences a force vision, showing the events of the Jedi Massacre, her jumping into the ocean, fending off a sea creature, then fights Luke. I also believe, she sees Kylo Ren too.

It did not happen like that at all, and we all know the sea creature turned out to be the Thala Siren.

Rey decided to go back to the Resistance base the next day. In the meantime, she set a campfire near the Millennium Falcon and are cooking dinner with Chewbacca and R2D2. Luke visits them to say goodbye and gives her some advice.

100% incorrect

Time passes and Rey senses a new presence on the island. She runs towards Luke’s home, only to find the Knights of Ren.

100% incorrect. Also, the scene with Rey running towards the village was deleted in the final montage.

Rey and Kylo Ren duel, while Luke fights the remainder.

Never happened. But a lot of people believed the KoR would make an appearance on Ahch-To.

Rey learns that Kylo was able to trace her due to the force vision she experienced earlier. Somehow he was able to defeat her and takes her to Snoke.

100% incorrect. 

Snoke reveals his intentions with Rey. He wants to train her as his new apprentice. Discarding the old for the new.

100% incorrect

Kylo Ren goes on the offensive, and stops Snoke torturing Rey.

That was correct, but definitely not for the reasons implied above.

Finn learns about Rey’s abduction, infiltrates the First Order fleet with Rose and DJ’s help. DJ has a different agenda, and bombs the place.

100% incorrect apart from the fact that Rose, Finn and DJ are on the Supremacy, wearing FO uniforms

This puts the First Order on alert, resulting in Phasma and Finn facing off.

It didn’t happen like that either. But sure, the Supremacy is in flame and we saw Finn fighting Phasma.

Rey escapes and Kylo intercepts her, pointing his lightsaber at her. Not knowing whether she is consumed by darkness or still the same person. Kylo Ren turns off the lightsaber, not wanting to fight her.

Nope.

Kylo sill say a line similar to  “come with me and together we can rule the galaxy”

That was pretty obvious that it was going to happen, unless you believed Hux was holding his hand out to Rey lmao

She doesn’t and joins Finn and Rose, who board the Millennium Falcon piloted by Poe and Chewbacca.

Nope.

Poe takes the team onboard one of the resistance ships. Only for it to get attacked. The resistance retreat by using escape pods and head to the nearest hideout on Crait for cover. There, the team meet Leia and Luke.Luke returned to the base with Chewbacca and decided to join the battle.

I see where they came from when you look at the pictures, but the details are all off, especially Luke returning to Resistance with Chewbacca.

The First Order have tracked them down. This was it. The final battle.

A battle on Crait to finish the movie, wow who would have seen that coming?

Then on December 5, supposedly after they watch the movie they posted that

I got so many things right and wrong!

Personally, I see way more wrong than right. There’s 0 mention that Rey and Kylo have a Force Bond, there’s 0 mentions of Finn and Rose’s journey on Canto Bight, There’s 0 mention of Holdo or any other character that plays an important role in the story, there’s 0 mention that Kylo actually kills Snoke and becomes Supreme leader.

Still on dec. 5 someone calls them out and they mention the milk scene.

Then on the 7th the Visual Dictionary is leaked and that’s where people start believing they’re really legit. To me that just means they saw the VD. Afterward, why not share something that wasn’t in the VD and wasn’t in any trailer and being all cryptic? Something that wouldn’t have spoiled the movie and Reylo.

[egopocalypse]

The last decade was... eventful to say the least. Incredibly long in some places, and in others, not nearly long enough. But this past year especially has made me look back and reflect on myself as well as my behavior online and in-person.

And with the new decade, I’ve decided some of the behaviors can’t continue.

I’ve spent so much of last year worrying about how others thought of me that I felt constrained by expectations and the need to understand everyone, but all it did was turn me into a shell of myself so I didn’t rock the boat. I let friendships slip away, I let people walk over me because I didn’t want to seem like I wasn’t being fair to them, and I shied away from topics that I enjoy because others didn’t.

And in the end, that only hurt me and made me passive to other people’s behavior.

I’m not letting it stand anymore.

So this year -no, this decade- I’m going to focus more on doing my own thing and what makes me happy, regardless of how anyone else feels about it. And it all starts with what I wanted to make this post about.

I like ego shipping.

Not all ships, and not with all of the egos, but I enjoy reading and writing that kind of content. I’ve posted it before, long before my blog started expanding, but that was in an era where many of the people I followed and saw on my dash enjoyed that content as well.

But then a shift occurred, and as a wave of vehemence against ego shipping and other kinds of content started overtaking the people who enjoyed it, I stopped. I didn’t dare post anything that wouldn’t be approved because I was afraid of losing the favor of people I admired on here.

And once I saw the trend the community as a whole was taking with discourse/tea blogs, and just a general inability to be able to speak calmly and critically without resorting to hate, I only shrunk into myself further. I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I only talked about topics that were quickly becoming extremely controversial and divisive in private with my closest friends- ones I knew I could trust and who shared similar opinions with me.

I’m not the only person who did this either. Not by a long shot. But as a result of hiding behind closed doors, I and many other people started venting to other people instead of talking out our issues with each other in a calm manner. That resulted in heated call outs and arguments based on rumors and things taken out of context, turning people against each other and severing friendships instead of being open and honest with each other from the get-go. It only served to turn people who used to be great friends into toxic, bitter enemies, and I watched it happen over and over again not just to me, but also other people.

As a result of all of this, I lost a lot of passion for the JSE community. I wrote a lot less. I started getting less and less reblogs on my work, which lead to me writing even less. 2019 as a whole turned into a vicious cycle I couldn’t escape.

But this year is going to be different, and I’m going to start it by saying “fuck it” and posting whatever I want. That includes ego shipping, that includes pieces from other fandoms that I felt I couldn’t post because this is a purely JSE sideblog, and that includes more posts that reflect my true thoughts and personality- not one tailored to a certain audience. 2020 is the year I start being true to myself online and in-person, rather than hiding behind a facade.

I’ll tag everything appropriately, so if you don’t like the content you’ll be seeing, feel free to blacklist or unfollow me. If you feel the need to send hate, the block button is right there and I encourage you to use it instead of sending me anons, because I will delete all of them. I’m no longer caring about people’s opinions, and the first step of that is getting rid of unneeded negative opinions that don’t do anything except try to drag me down.

If anyone reads this to the end, I thank you for listening to my rant, and I encourage you to let 2020 be the year you free yourself of the internal expectations holding you down. Trust me, a weight will be lifted off your shoulders.