#And I will stand by my stance of ‘let people be messy about messy emotions’

[thesixthstar]

Man i understand being annoyed at Americans in a general sense, especially when there’s some choice hypocrisy to yell about on this bitch of a website but it is frustrating seeing some of the posts drift by that are “””calling out”””” Americans for just. Reacting badly to a bad situation.

The internet was always a mistake in the sense that it allowed us to capture in realtime any messy reactions we have to anything, before anything like sense or logic have a chance to kick in. And it was more of a mistake when we learned to Process Via Posting.

But that really doesn’t change the fact that humans. when big bad shit hits us that we weren’t expecting for some god damned reason, we might spend some time feeling fucked up contradictory things and lash out about it a little. It’s not good but it really just is.

There’s shame and there’s anger and there’s guilt and indignation and hope and hopelessness and spite and despair. And i fucking get it when people see that and want to say “oh poor fucking baby let me play you the works smallest violin” but you really can’t expect us to thank you for that.

I’m angry. I’m sad. I went to work today and I had dinner and waived TV and I laughed at some god damn posts and then I had some other emotions and I’m still angry and sad and confused and anxious in ways I don’t understand yet.

I try to delete posts that I reblog and then realize are kinda Fucked because I want to be someone who doesn’t lash out but if the worst thing I’m doing when badly processing my emotions is reblogging a post with angry judgmental words, then fucking sue me.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Falling Behind

Patrick Zweig x Fem Reader

cw: like one use or y/n

(loosely inspired by Falling Behind by Laufey)

This Ask!

The doorbell rang, echoing through your quiet Syracuse apartment. It was an unwelcome sound, one that signaled the arrival of someone you had been trying to forget. The last person you expected to see was him.

“The Toxic Ex” as your friends called him. the ex who had left a trail of heartbreak and confusion in his wake.

You opened the door hesitantly, your heart pounding. There he stood, looking disheveled and desperate, a far cry from the confident man you once knew. His baby blues, usually so piercing, were now filled with a pleading sadness.

"Can we please talk Y/n?"

He asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You crossed your arms wrapping them around yourself covering your tiny night-set, leaning against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Zweig?"

You scoffed.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair.

"I need to apologize. I know I messed up, and I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

As he spoke all the memories of your relationship flooded back the highs, the intense connection.

But also the lows, the manipulation, and the constant feeling of falling behind.

You had spent months trying to piece yourself back together after he left.

"Why now?"

You demanded, your voice wavering.

"Why show up after all this time?"

He stepped closer you fought the urge to step back instead staying leaned against your doorframe his eyes never leaving yours.

"I was scared, scared of losing you, scared of my own feelings. But losing you was the worst mistake of my life. Please, give me another chance."

All of the memories played in your mind, a haunting reminder of how you felt during your time together.

Always trying to keep up, always feeling like you were never enough for him.

But here he was, begging for forgiveness, a broken man.

"How do I know you won't hurt me again?"

You muttered your defenses slowly crumbling.

Patrick's gaze softened, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out.

"You don't. But I promise I'll spend every day proving that I'm worth the second chance. I'll never take you for granted again."

You shook your head, trying to keep your stance on this situation.

"Patrick, you hurt me. You made me feel like I was constantly chasing after something I could never catch."

His eyes were filled with genuine regret.

"I know."

His voice cracking.

"I know I hurt you, and I can't change the past. But I love you. I've always loved you, and I can't let you go without trying to make things right."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, to protect yourself from the pain he had caused.

But another part, a smaller, quieter part, longed for the love you once shared.

"Do you really think you can change?"

You asked your voice barely above a whisper.

Patrick nodded, determination shining in his eyes.

"I've been working on myself, trying to understand why I did the things I did. I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I want to be the man you deserve."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit.

All you saw was a man who was truly sorry, who was willing to do whatever it took to win you back.

Maybe it was foolish, but you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that people could change, that love could conquer the deepest wounds.

"Okay," you said softly. "But this is your last chance, Patrick.

If you hurt me again, we're done for good."

You said now standing up straight from your doorway.

He nodded, tears of relief glistening in his eyes. "I won't let you down. I promise."

As he pulled you into his arms, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other. Maybe you could heal and grow stronger together.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you felt a strange sense of peace. Falling behind was no longer an option.

This time, you would walk side by side, facing whatever came your way.

Later that evening, as you both sat on your cream sofa, the silence between you was comforting rather than oppressive.

Patrick held your hand, squeezing it gently. "Tell me everything,"

He said softly.

"I want to know what you went through, how I made you feel. I need to hear it."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of release as you began to speak.

The words poured out of you, each one a step towards healing.

Patrick listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, absorbing every painful detail.

As the night wore on, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe, with honesty and effort, you could rebuild what was broken.

In that moment, you realized that sometimes, falling behind can lead you to a place where you can finally catch up, together.

[redwiccanrobin]

The problem with Trevor

Throughout my life I’ve been a fan of many different properties. And, as I’m a fan of them, I try my best to reach out and make some connections with people who share that interest. Along the way, I’ve come across many bad takes for many different things. Shameless (US) is one of those fandoms that have an assortment of bad takes in its space. For the most part, I’ve been able to address things and then move on. But, there’s been one take that has plagued me and driven me up the wall.

“People hate Trevor because he’s not toxic.”

This was something that was said to me to justify why some in the Shameless fandom didn’t vibe with Trevor. Not only do I find this an odd stance to take, it’s also just not correct. And I want to break down what is wrong with this statement.

But first, let me address something. Some of the hate towards Trevor is unwarranted. Some of the hate towards Trevor is unfair. And some of it is straight up transphobic. Those reasons are wrong, invalid, and will not be present in this analysis of mine and if I see it happening, I will block you. With that being said, I will go on to explain the valid reasons why I, and many others, do not enjoy Trevor as a character.

At first, I was inclined to like Trevor. He seemed nice enough (if a bit bland), gave representation to queer trans men (of which they have few), and he introduced Ian to the queer world. Why wouldn’t I like that? But, slowly, he started to bother me in many different ways. There was a pretentious element to him, an arrogance and rudeness that he showed in reference to Ian. There was a demand that Ian understand every facet of him but, in the same breath, refused to extend that back.

I tried to ignore these feelings out of guilt. I didn’t want to hate the trans character who was helping Ian to know his community. Then one scene struck me, made me angry. Monica had come back to town and Ian was uncomfortable and upset by her presence. He tried to voice these emotions to Trevor but, as I said, Trevor never tried to understand Ian’s feelings. He brushes Ian’s feelings aside and tells him he needs to get over it. Ian leaves with anger filling his veins. And never once did Trevor apologize for overstepping his bounds. Now, I will admit, the scene was a bit messy and Ian didn’t look very good himself. But that was my first true bitter taste for Trevor forming.

Still, I was determined to like him. That was, until I watched season 8.

Season 8 is a bit of a polarizing topic within the Shameless fandom. Some appreciate the decision to show the character’s less than desirable attributes unashamedly. Others feel it’s a bit too mean spirited. Whatever side of the fence you stand on though, a lot of people seem to agree that this is the season where it was abundantly clear how little Trevor cares about Ian’s wellbeing.

Throughout the season, it was abundantly clear that Ian was going through a manic episode. Ian becomes obsessive, angry, aggressive, downright cruel at some points. He is sinking and we are watching as everyone else turns a blind eye to his increasingly erratic behavior. Including Trevor.

Trevor, who has dedicated his life to those in trouble, offers no help to Ian in what is clearly a mental health crisis. In fact, for the majority of the season, Trevor sits back with a smirk on his face as Ian fights for his cause. He allows Ian to sink into his obsession, anger, aggression because it ultimately benefits him and what he cares for. Ian is walking closer and closer to the edge and those around him are choosing to not step in, not offer help. Instead, they wrinkle their noses in disgust and get angry at Ian for being in the way of their goals. And ultimately that is what happens with Trevor.

Slowly, Trevor begins to realize that Ian’s actions and behaviors are no longer reflecting well on his cause. There is also the ego bruise that Ian is now no longer focused on Trevor anymore which he voices to Fiona. He offers some hollow words about how he hopes that Ian is taking care of himself (ie; taking his medication). But I say hollow because when Ian finally breaks down and seeks out Trevor out of fear and exhaustion, Trevor offers him no help. He just rolls his eyes at Ian and accuses him of loving the growing attention (and hostility associated with that attention). He calls him selfish and then he walks away, leaving Ian feeling even more lost and tired. Ian was calling out for help in that scene and was instead scolded like he was a spoiled child throwing a fit at the supermarket. Shortly after this, Ian sets fire to a van and gets arrested. Trevor is never seen again.

I wanted to like Trevor. I wanted to be on Trevor’s side. I wanted to root for his relationship with him. I felt guilty whenever I cringed away from him. I felt like a hypocrite that his actions were affecting me in such a strong and visceral way when I can forgive other characters for the same. It took me months to finally admit to myself that I didn’t like Trevor. And I was truly heartbroken when I came to that conclusion.

The problem with Trevor is not that he is trans. The problem with Trevor is not that he’s not Mickey. The problem is that he was meant to be the solution. He was meant to be the better choice for Ian as opposed to Mickey. The Shameless writers did everything in their power to convince us that Trevor was kind, thoughtful, mature, and loved Ian. But more often than not he was shown to be petty, bitter, self righteous, and condescending beyond words. In the writers efforts to create a character that is supposed to be the definition of good they instead shone a light on his bad characteristics. For every act of kindness we would see him partake in there was him putting pressure on Ian to get into a relationship. There was the dismissal of Ian’s trauma and abuse. There was the lack of empathy when Ian was going through grief. There was the use of fat men to boost his ego. There was the benefiting from Ian’s declining mental health. And those things became harder to ignore when the writers seemed to be deep in denial about the cruelty they put in him. So, no. People don’t hate Trevor because he’s “not toxic.” People hate him because he’s not a good fit for Ian.

[ravenna222]

Weaving the web

Hanamiya Makoto x Fem!Reader

time skip: hanamiya and reader are in their late 20s; reader has a child

Warnings: smut, post-breakup, dacryphilia, heavy degradation, oral (f!recieving), threatening, edging, physical abuse (reader gets slapped in the face), toxic! hanamiya (lmao what were we expecting), emotional manipulation, reader is implied to have an abusive past, fluff if you squint

P.s. This is my first time writing smut, so the actual nsfw part might not be too satisfying, but I hope the storyline makes up for it, even tho it's kinda rushed

How long has it been? Hanamiya thinks back, reminiscing his relationship with you. It's been 3 years since he's seen you, and god this was not what he was expecting. You sitting by the seaside cradling a baby.

The breakup was messy, whenever you remember it a stench of nausea fills your guts. Makoto was never a nice man, you knew that from the start, everyone knew. From the first time you saw him in highschool you knew he was trouble, gliding down the halls with that unsettling smirk plastered on his face deciding who to taunter next. He waiting the day it was your turn, gosh he was like a flee, trying to mess up your relationships, tearing up your friendships. Yet nothing he ever did seemed to be enough to break you. You were intelligent, sure, he could give you that, but you were no where near his level; however that wit infuriated him to no end, dare he say you're wittier than him. Perhaps it was that that lured him in. He was so endowed into weaving his spider web that he had entangled himself in it. Hara would tease him about it during practise, how he always fixated on you, how out of everyone know one got on his nerves just as much as you did. Soon you both started talking more, less bickering, you were getting closer to eachother. Even if you weren't as intelligent as him, he found your shared conversations the most interesting. He was never bored around you. Sometimes he thinks that his intellect, as much as it is a gift, is his own damnation. School was too easy, apart from ruining basketball as a sport, tormenting people and playing darts nothing was fulfilling. Sure he's an avid reader, but he couldn't always read. With you he felt as if his brain found enough tranquility to switch off all the unending noise.

He remembers the moment you two had sex for the first time: you were both 3rd year students close to graduation, about to write a new chapter of life. You were together studying in the library, or at least supposed to study, when you decided to ditch the boring essay and go to his to play darts. You were surprised, not by the fact that he enjoyed throwing darts but by the fact he was willing to teach you. He was never patient with anyone. During that evening was a complete failure for you, guess the dart board wasn't on your side.

"Stupid, if you keep your arm in that stance you're never gonna hit the center, or the board for that matter."

"Yeah, well maybe if you actually decided to teach me and give me a few tips like you said earlier I wouldn't completely suck!"

"Ugh, you're such a pain you know? Whining all the time. Here, let me show you." Standing right behind you, a hand slip over your waist while his other grabbed your hand to change your position, he guided it to throw the dart.

"Huh, what a suprise, it landed on the board this time." Damn that sarcastic tone of his. If you could you'd throw him out of his own bedroom.

You stayed in that position for a few mere moments before he started kissing your neck, left hand making it un to your breast whilst the other slid down your torso.

You both will never forget that night, he was sure of it, nor will he ever forget the years you spent together in university. He was studying to become a lawyer, more specifically a criminal defence lawyer purely to piss people off. And to no one's suprise, he became a phenomenal one. Criminals from all of Japan, and some overseas, would come searching help from Hanamiya.

Maybe it was the work overload, maybe it was the fact that he refused to admit that it was too much, or perhaps fame. He became even more petty and angry towards everything. You understood it was bad when even his own mother told him to take some time off. But he wouldn't.

The night of the breakup was messy to say the least. "You're a masochist", "seems to me you enjoy the pain I give you."

Done you were, you told yourself, done. You swore to yourself that you'd never speak to him again. Not even holding a positive pregnancy test would make you crawl back to him for support. No, you'll get rid of this baby, you told yourself. But you didn't, you didn't find the courage to do so. You blamed it on the societal expectations of women, that every woman was destined to become a mother, the brainwashing of young girls letting go of their big dreams to settle down and bear children. Not that that automatically ment a big career was over, but it was hard. They made it hard. You didn't have family to turn to, Hanamiya knew that, he knew of your broken family and that's why he was so perplexed to see you by the seaside holding a damn baby in your arms.

Hanamiya chuckled as he watched the horror washed over your face. No, no, please, anyone but him.

"Hey love, longtime no see. Care to explain this nonsense?"

He didn't need an explanation, it was his, how could it not? He could tell by the baby's eyes, they were an exact resemblance of his.

"I don't need to explain anything to you, Hanamiya." You bark back. You said you were done with him, you swore it to yourself, yet here he is standing infront of you with that humouring glare.

Why the hell was he in Okinawa? Shouldn't he be in Tokyo working?

"Oh please Y/n, cut the formalities, it doesn't suit you. You know, I finally listened to ma, took that holiday, and look who we have here. I wondered where you had gone off to, couldn't reach you, didn't try really, but here you are."

God hates you, you're certain of it. God hates you more than he hates Hanamiya.

"This is a suprise, can't say a pleasant one tho."

He sat beside you, taking a closer look at the baby. It was a girl, a baby girl, he had a baby girl. Fuck, he almost couldn't bring himself to believe it. As much as he wanted to hate it he couldn't.

"If you're going to be a bother then leave. Ayame and I are trying to relax. Get your ass away from us."

Ayame huh.

As you were trying to woosh Makoto away Ayame opened her eyes, as her vision landed right onto Hanamiya she clapped her hands. Finally her Daddy's home.

Sometimes you hated Ayame's little brain, if there is one thing certain about her, it's that she inherited her father's high iq. She didn't need you to tell her who he was, one glance is all she needed, one glance, and she knew.

"Dada!" She started to wriggle uncontrollably tempting to get to Hanamiya. Dada Dada Dada, she repeatedly whispered. The one thing you feared happening is happening, and there was nothing you could do about it. Sure, you could run someplace Hanamiya wouldn't reach you, but his image would be engraved into Ayame forever. She would never forget him.

"C'mon, pass her to me." You're reluctant but you do as you're told.

Strange feelings pass over Hanamiya, he wasn't sure what to think of this other than the obvious: He's a father now.

As the sun set, you all went back to your place to have dinner. You agreed that he'd spend the night as he hadn't booked a hotel, or so he told you.

After dinner you put Ayame to sleep, now all that was left was to make a deal with the devil.

Hanamiya is sitting on your couch, watching you unamused as you sit next to him.

"You really expected that I'd have told you about her?"

No, he didn't.

"You're hilarious my dear, you would have saved yourself so much trouble if you just had the courage to pick up the phone."

He's infuriating, you just want to kick him out and leave him on the streets, oh how you'd love to, but you couldn't. You didn't want to.

"Fuck off Hanamiya."

"What did we say about formalities Y/n?"

"Alright, Makoto. You stay the night, but when I wake up I better not see you, otherwise I'll get a fucking restraining order."

"Baby please, I'm a lawyer. You couldn't win a case against me even if you tried. But what would Ayame think? Are you always this inconsiderate about her? As she grows older, what would she think of her lovely Mommy not letting her see her own sweet daddy, hmm? Think carefully Y/n."

"You bastard! How dare you-!"

Before you knew it he pinned you down on the couch under him, his knee between your thighs, rubbing at your core. Fuck, this wasn't supposed to turn you on the way it did, well... fuck him for knowing you too well.

"Not gonna lie, I did miss this."

"Fuck you. Get off me you bastard!"

"Quit the tongue Y/n, it doesn't suit you."

And with that his lips crashed against yours in a heated kiss, all the passion that was sealed throughout the 3 years of not being together bubbled up to the surface. You hated yourself for this. You never wanted to see him again but here you are under him, putty in his hands like you always were. Nothing has changed.

"Quit the lies too, if you didn't want me here tonight, you wouldn't have offered me to stay here, we both know I earn enough money for a decent hotel. You want this, tell yourself all of the above, but you can't deny it, you can't deny me anymore sweetheart, you're not getting rid of me any time soon."

You start to panic, it was true, once he entered your apartment you knew what was going to happen. Pathetically lying to yourself isn't going to make it better.

Slyly he unclips your bra and slides his hands under your shirt, clasping your left breast. He curses to himself, he missed this a bit too much. He tries to convince himself, and you for the sake of his arrogance, that he just missed the sex, but you knew otherwise.

He proceeds to pull your shirt over your head and take off your jeans, leaving you bare only for his eyes to see. Trying to hide yourself by grabbing the closest blanket, you feel a sting on your left cheek. "Nah-ah, you're not getting all shy on me now stupid girl" his whisper sends a chill down your spine,"where'd all that fight go, hmm?" Ending with a lick on your ear he turns to your neck. You knew by the end of this you'll be all bruised up, covered in hickeys. Worry hits you, what if Ayame sees the marks? But it doesn't matter, you like it this way anyway, you like it when it hurts.

"Ah!" He bites down nearly drawing blood. Makoto has always been sadistic, he once told you he started rough play when he was 12, always laughing at the pain of others, you're no exempt. On the contrary, you're his prime victim, your pain tastes like honey to him, sweeter than any he's tasted. As he sucks on your neck his left hand finds its way to your panties, white ones huh, when did you become so pure?

He starts circling your clothed clit slowly it almost hurts. His lips leave your now ruined neck and make their way back to your mouth. You groan into the kiss as he smirks.

"More more Makoto, 'want more!" He lets out a scornful laugh whilst kissing your abdomen. You sound like a bratty child throwing a tantrum, and you know what happens to brats? They need to be disciplined.

"So impatient and we're just getting started, ah~ , how did I find myself such a slutty brat?" You want to protest, but soon you feel a hot breathe graze your damped panties. Hanamiya moves your them aside and gives your clit a quick lick and a delicate suck that makes your legs wriggle in delite. Oh how sweet you can be, forgetting the sour nature of Hanamiya Makoto. Nearly instantly you can feel your panties covering you clit.

"Fuck-ah!-" A slap lands on your pussy, "watch your mouth" he warns you. Ah! Another slap and Makoto wastes no time to dive in and smell the wet heat of your core. He begins to lick your clothed pussy. It's not enough, it's definitely not enough, but when is it ever enough for you. Finally after a few whiny moans he slips you panties off, feeling a tongue beginning to lap around your folds. There was no questioning Hanamiya's oral performance, his silver tongue is able to give you high after high when he's generous.

"Ahh~, Ma-uh~, M-makoto hmm!" You manage to blurt out, hearing the slurps turns you on more and more. You can sense a knot forming inside. Hanamiya grins, he knows your body dangerously well, he's well aware of your upcoming climax. He starts to tongue fuck you as his right hand reaches your chin and plunges two fingers into your mouth making you gag.

"Mm-mmh!" The gagged moans were his favourite, fuck they were so slutty to him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts his index inside you.

"Cummin' m'koto" you slur out. A few seconds pass, but when you finally are going to release all motions stop, he pulls out his finger and slaps your pussy again. You cry out, how could he deny you?

"I don't think you deserve it. You know you've been such a whiny bitch to me, you don't even deserved to be touched you stupid slut." Another sting, but this time on your right plush cheek. "I find out you had my child and you didn't fucking bother to tell me!" Another slap, this time right across your face.

" I'm sorry I'm sorry! I- I-" tears threaten to fall. You do feel guilty, you kept the father of your child out of her life. Maybe for a good reason? But you can't reason, not when Makoto rams 3 fingers into your aching cunt catching you of guard.

"And you were planning on never telling me, you know you'd be the reason she would have felt empty, pain, asking you where her daddy is? When he doesn't even know she fuckin' exists! You stupid whore, you're a terrible mother."

Hot tears stain your face, this is why you left him, but you can't seem to think straight at the moment, not when you're about to cum all over his fingers.

"C'mon mommy", he taunts, "cum on daddy's fingers." His voice, that's all you need to reach your climax.

Suddenly he flips you over, one foot on the floor for support and the other firm on the side of the couch to reach in deep enough.

"You really thought you could get away with this? You're fucking delusional. Sooner or later I was gonna find you, track you down. I have connections, the ones that wouldn't mind beating up a few dozen people to find a stupid fucking slut. And here you are, safe and sound in Okinawa, and look! I found you! Maybe destiny is real." He knows it's the insanity talking for him. Destiny, fate, none of that shit exists. He was going to find you eventually nonetheless, it was only a matter of time. He's a criminal defence lawyer for fucks sakes, he's made friends here and there who'd gladly repay him with a favor if he'd ask faster than a blink of an eye. Realistically, he doesn't think he would've done such a thing. Or maybe, who knows. But there is something everyone knows, you know it too well: Hanamiya's unpredictable.

[inkednotebook]

OC Deep Dive - Teddy Wilson

Icing Waved Off

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Snakes, crowded spaces, and small/crammed spaces.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Not many. He hates bad drivers and people who chew with their mouth open, though.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Over the counter pain killers, at least two books, and a massage gun.

What do they notice first in a person?

Their physical build. Not in an attraction kind of way, more in a "if this person was my opponent how should I prepare?" kind of way. It's habit for him at this point to size up people unintentionally. As such, he notices a lot of small details about a person's physique, like if they lean their weight more on one side, if their stance is wide, etc.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Like an 8 or 9, probably. As a hockey player, he's kind of expected to have a high pain tolerance, and has built one up over the years.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Depends on the situation. On the ice? Fight all the way. He's good player and he knows it, and he's not going to let a trailing score or a scrappy opponent get to him. Off the ice? Flight. He's not good with deep emotions, so when things get messy in his personal life, his instinct is to avoid it like the plague.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

He comes from a decent sized family, I think. Immediate is small, only him, his parents, and his brother. He has quite a bit of extended family, though. Three grandparents, several aunts and uncles, and a lot of cousins. They don't all live in one place, though, so he didn't have a lot of big family gatherings growing up. He's not super close with a lot of his family because they're pretty conservative, but he has some cousins he keeps in touch with and he's reasonably close with his immediate family.

What animal represents them best?

Hm. I want to say a stag maybe? Oh! No. A goat lmao. Goats are herd creatures and crave that connection, they can be very feisty at times, will headbutt you, aren't picky eaters, and get scared easily (he has an anxiety disorder).

What is a smell that they dislike?

Super floral things, especially artificial floral. Also the smell of mowed grass.

Have they broken any bones?

Oh, most definitely. Don't think you can play pro sports without ever breaking a bone.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Laid back/chill vibes, friendly but not great at small talk, tall, weirdly attached at the hip to his teammate?

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Neither? Idk haha for his job he kind of has to be up at all hours. Early morning skate and practice, afternoon naps, evening games, late night flights... I guess during the off season he's more of a night owl since that's when he usually exerts the most energy during the regular season.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

He doesn't have a huge sweet tooth, so anything that's artificially sweet like candy he doesn't like. He loves anything savoury, but he especially loves the taste of a grilled steak.

Do they have any hobbies?

He enjoys reading mystery novels and sometimes sci-fi novels, playing co-op video games, and watching crime shows, sci-fi shows, and sports (usually other hockey teams and baseball).

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Sooo awkwardly lol. He's not great with attention, despite literally being in the spotlight for a living. He'd kind of laugh, thank everyone, and slip closer to someone so he's not just standing by himself (probably he'd move closer to James).

Do they like to wear jewellery?

He sometimes will wear a simple silver chain or watch to games or out to dinner with the guys, but usually he's not a jewellery person.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Messy but legible.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Anxiety and determination.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Not really, no.

What kind of accent do they have?

Subtle Canadian. So, kind of like the standard American accent you hear on TV but with some Canadian aspects (e.g., Canadian raising and slang/terms for stuff).

Tagging (no pressure ofc) @willtheweaver @illarian-rambling @oh-no-another-idea @theeccentricraven and @aalinaaaaaa

[cdroloisms]

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!) 

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.  

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

[randomfandomimagine]

Meeting Doc (Marty McFly x Reader)

Characters: Marty McFly, Emmet ‘Doc’ Brown

Fandom: Back to the Future

Tags: Meeting the family

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,4k words

Requested by (Marty) anon: hey Trish!! would you be up for a Marty ficlet where he takes reader (his s/o) with him to meet Doc, and Doc's kind of apprehensive and protective of Marty at first but after awhile he warms up to reader and they all just end up goofing off together at the end? have a wonderful day :)

Link: AO3

A/N: Here it is! I hope you like it, lovely! It was fun to write and to explore this side of the characters!

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

Marty McFly x Gender Neutral Reader

Everyone in Hill Valley had heard about Doctor Brown. He was the strange scientist of the town. Some called him crazy and some called him dangerous. Being Marty McFly’s partner, though, you pictured a very different version of that same man.

In Marty’s eyes, Doc was a genius. He was a misunderstood person who was in love with science and very passionate about it, constantly trying out new inventions that would quench his curiosity and help the world.

Perhaps none of those versions were true, but merely the projections of the people that looked at him. Nonetheless, you were more inclined to believe Marty than everyone else. Of course, it helped that Marty was your boyfriend, but Doc didn’t seem dangerous. At the very least, he was a very interesting and unique person that you couldn’t wait to meet.

“Okay” Marty stopped before Doc’s residence, licking his lips and turning to you.

You didn’t know who was more nervous about this meeting, you or Marty. Although you weren’t sure if you would make a good first impression, it was clear that this was very important to Marty too. The both of you were the most important people in his life, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you two not getting along.

“Okay….” He repeated, taking a deep breath. “Are you ready, Y/N?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him and took his hand. “I’m excited to meet him”

“Now, before we come in…” Marty paused, lifting your hand and patting it. “You know Doc’s a little...”

“What?”

“Well… you may think he’s a bit… wacky”

“So I heard”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Marty kept playing with your hand, moving it around as he tried to push out any of his nervous energy. “It takes a bit to really get him, you know? But once you do, he’s the best”

“What are you trying to say?”  

“He’s just different from everyone else in Hill Valley”

“Marty” You patiently said, returning to your sweet smile. “I know what people say about Doc, and it doesn’t bother me”

“Really?” He finally smiled, sighing in relief once you eased his fear.

“Yeah, he might be different, but that just means he’s not boring” You paused, watching how his tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “I want to meet him, and not just because you want me to. I want to meet your friend, who also happens to seem like a very interesting person”

“You’re the best” Marty leaned in to kiss you in the cheek. “Let’s come in then”

You took a deep breath as he opened the door for you. Immediately, you were received with a very different environment than the one you were just in outside of the house. The entire room was dark and felt heavy with electricity. It also smelled slightly like chemicals.

A sudden fear reached you once you realized you knew nothing about science. What if you had nothing in common with Doc to get along with him? It would break Marty’s heart if you two just stood there awkwardly.

“Doc?” He called out, bringing you back to reality as he tugged at your hand, directing you with him through the messy house. “Doc, we’re here!”

After some rustling, footsteps were heard. A tall man with disheveled white hair appeared wearing a white lab coat, with wide eyes and goggles over his forehead.

“Great Scott!” The man muttered, quickly looking at his wristwatch. “Is it time already?”

“Yeah” Marty put his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N is here”

“Doctor Brown!” You smiled at him, offering your hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Marty has told me all about you”

The man stayed distant for a moment as he carefully watched you.

“Yeah, yeah…” He dryly said, absently shaking your hand. “You too”

“Y/N was really excited to meet you, Doc” Marty beamed, shaking you around a little as though passing over to you more of that excitement.

The man only nodded, lifting his chin up and looking down at you. His brown eyes were filled with distrust. Suddenly, that eagerness you felt died down. Instead, it was replaced by a cold disappointment.

Marty had talked so highly of Doc that you thought he was one of the best people in Hill Valley. However, now that you had met him in person, he behaved in a petty manner.

“Tell me, how long have you and Marty been together?” He then asked, to make matters worse. His tone was harsh and judgmental.

“Doc…” Marty complained, but you answered the question nonetheless.

“Almost a year”

“Do you get good grades?”

“Doc!”

The man shut his mouth, looking at his friend in startle. You clenched your jaw, standing up straight to show him you weren’t intimidated by his questioning.

“Is this an interview?” You demanded to know, forcing him to face you.

The two of you glared at each other, further challenging one another. You could feel Marty’s eyes moving from him to you. He stirred in the spot before finally piping up.

“Uh… y-you know what?” Marty nervously said, passing a hand through his hair. “Why don’t I show Y/N that thing you invented? You know, that gadget thingy”

“Very well” Doc replied without glancing at him, too busy staring at you.

“I’ll be right back!” Marty exclaimed as he ran off, trying to take as little time away from you as possible.

As soon as your boyfriend disappeared in the next room, you acquired a defensive stance to mask your outrage. No matter how smart ‘Doc’ was, you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Doctor Brown” You gravely began. “With all due respect, I don’t know what your problem with me is, and I honestly don’t care. I think we should put our differences aside for Marty’s sake”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted, foreseeing a complaint.

“If you don’t like me for, that’s alright” You continued, peering up at him to meet his tall stature. “But it’s very important to Marty that we get along, so I suggest you do it for him if you really care so much about him”

The scientist stared at you in awe. After a moment of surprise, he smiled at you.

“You are absolutely right”

“T-Thank you”

“I apologize, it was unfair of me to treat you like that” Doc bowed his head down as a sign of respect. “I was only looking out for Marty, but if you truly care so much about him, I must have been too quick to judge you”

“Of course I care about Marty!” You loudly said, lowering your tone when you realized he might return soon. “That is why I wanted to meet you on the first place, Doctor Brown!”

“As did I” He sighed, shaking his head to himself. “Forgive me, Y/N, I merely wanted to ensure you were good for Marty. He is an extraordinary young man and he deserves the very best”

“I agree” Now that the tension had dissipated, a more comfortable silence established. However, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant. “And well… am I good for him?”

“I’m here!” Marty arrived just then, interrupting the scientist before he could reply. However, the smile in his lips was answer enough.

“Ah, thank you, Marty” He said instead, taking a small oval shaped gadget from him.

“What were you talking about?” The young man looked from one to the other again.

“I was telling Y/N that… I was frustrated with a project… but that is no excuse, I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sorry”

“Thank you. And it’s alright”

“Allow me to start again” Doc cleared his throat, offering you his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Doctor Emmett Brown, but you can call me Emmett”

“It’s nice to meet you, Emmett” You replied with a smile, giving his hand a firm but gentle shake.

A pause followed. Watching Marty with the corner of your eye, you realized he was smiling wide and had the emotion reflected in his eyes. You smiled to yourself.

“Tell me, Y/N�� Emmett then said, motioning in a friendly gesture. “Would you like to know how my invention works?”

“I would love to” You took Marty’s hand, following Doc as he went to turn all the lights on and demonstrate to you how his new invention worked.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @fandomxreaders​ /  @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @dancingwith-sunflowers​ / @welcome-here-in-my-world / @unstable-puffin-writing​​ // Send an ask if you want to be added to the tag list for this fandom!

[hanazou]

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

© all rights reserved to hanazou. do not repost, modify, or claim any of my works as your own.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

If My Kingdom Falls, I’ll Lose it All

A birthday gift to the lovely @aidensm8. Ty so much @dramaticsnakes for beta-reading <33333

Cws: minor angst, feeling of not being good enough, implied overworking, neglecting self-care

Summary: "A good king takes care of himself."

"I'm not a king yet."

---

Roman was a prince. A prince who would soon become a king. There were too many things to do and the golden-eyed guard kept on getting in his way.

AO3

The Sanders Kingdom received the provocative letter that detailed the new laws set for their neighboring kingdoms that would soon fit their own as well. The King had discussed the arrangement, focusing on the inflation or artisan goods and rations provided to the people. The meetings took place over several months with no changes made in favor of the Sanders Kingdom. The nation soon declared war, providing that regulations were detrimental to-

“-no no, you should have seen him last night. He was a complete mess.”

Roman let out an exhale. The guards were socializing by his door again. When would they learn that they were getting paid to stand there and not go around pretending the castle was the local pub? He harshly stood up from his chair, not minding how it made a semi-loud sound as it moved across the floor. He made a few quick steps to open the door, glaring with the first guard he saw. 

A walking stereotype. Muscles, dark hair, and a straightened-up posture once he saw Roman’s presence. Roman took in a small breath. Kings were polite with their people. He had to be kind and civil. He slipped a small smile on his face, making the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly, “Gentlemen.”

The guard looked at Roman’s eyes for a moment, but the eye contact seemed uncomfortable for the man. The guard slipped on a smile but it was filled with apprehension and hesitation.  “Prince- Prince Roman. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

Well, you did, he bitterly thought. He let a small chuckle escape him, one that wasn’t out of personal enjoyment but to rather relieve the tension. “You didn’t, but could you two tell the guards by hallway C to rotate their positions with you?” He didn’t know which guards he was swapping out, but they must have been better than these two. 

He looked over at the other guard, almost forgetting he existed. His eyes were slightly narrowed as a tight smile rested on his face. His eyes were peculiar. Roman barely had time to dissect the distaste painted over the man’s face as he noticed a golden eye staring back at him. It seemed to stare through his soul and assert that he was the royal one there. 

Roman swallowed the feeling down his throat as the original guard spoke, “As you wish, Prince Roman.” The guard made a few steps away from the door, the armor clinking quietly around him. He took a look back, noticing that the guard positioned next to him hadn’t moved. 

“Sir Deceit?” The guard with the golden eye- who was apparently Sir Deceit- looked away from Roman and to the other guard. 

He took a quiet exhale as he nodded at Roman. “As you wish, Prince Roman.” There might have been another moment where Sir Deceit lingered there for a second longer than he should have, but the time flew by Roman as the guard soon walked away. 

Deceit. It was an odd name for a guard. A guard that’s supposed to be honest and truthful to his kingdom was going by Deceit. Roman momentarily wondered what Sir Deceit’s real name was before he shook his head to himself and retreated back into his room. Names were kept secret out of safety. Something about how it lowered assassination attempts or perhaps just general threats.

A part of his mind kept returning back to the guard as he sat down and tried to continue reading about their foreign affairs. He shouldn’t care about the guard, he just had a weird eye and name and that was the end of it. He had a kingdom that would fall into his hands within a matter of months. He didn’t have time to focus on the insignificant details of his workers.

---

Roman moved his hands around as the book suggested. One around an imaginary waist and the other holding an invisible hand. He slowly stepped forward while holding the pose, then moving to the right as he turned around to end up in the starting position. He took a small breath as he proceeded to widen his stance. The book reminded him how important it was, but he kept on forgetting.

A warm voice called out from behind him. “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman turned around. He was about to decline the permission to the guard when he noticed his eyes. Golden-eyed boy was guarding him again. He wished the guard’s name didn’t feel familiar on his mind. “Permission granted.”

“You’re doing horribly.”

Roman felt his body become tense as he forced his posture to vaguely loosen up, but the confusion on his face was evidence of his initial reaction. Rule one- a guard should never insult royalty. Roman felt any confidence he could’ve had leave him as he turned away from him. “I’m still learning, Sir Deceit.”

Footsteps made their way behind him as warm hands gently fell onto his body. Sir Deceit’s chest was pressed against his back as he slowly pushed Roman’s arms to be more curved and open. He whispered into his ear, “You can’t learn such a fluid dance from a book. The pages are so rigid, it’s practically incorrect to learn that way.”

Before Roman could’ve made any comment, Sir Deceit walked around him, interlocking their fingers in his left hand and placing Roman’s other hand onto his waist. Roman looked Sir Deceit up and down. The guard seemed to know what he was doing with how calmly he looked up at Roman. Warmness was present on him, gently reminding him that he needed to do something. “S- Sir Deceit, this is quite unprofessional of you. I’ll have to ask you to remove your hands from me.”

Roman almost wished that they stayed together a bit longer, but they were separated as soon as they were joined. “As you wish, my prince.”

He could feel the phantom warmth on his skin. He looked away from Sir Deceit and to the book. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Sir Deceit let out a small hum. It was one of approval, but it was so… wrong. There wasn’t a witty remark that Roman knew was in the back of his mind or a protest to stay. There wasn’t even a statement of agreement. Just a small noise.

But what was Roman doing? His coronation was coming close and he had to know the kingdom’s traditional dances by heart to not look a fool. Yet, he somehow felt like one already. With warmness tingling on his waist and hand, he repositioned his body into the starting position.

---

Roman faced the mirror, critically eyeing the man he saw in it. While it was him in the mirror, it wasn’t him. He wore a newer outfit, but it was still in the same style as his wardrobe. He carefully moved a few hairs to lay slightly on his face. Enough to look casual, but not enough to look messy. 

He tensed at the muffled snicker behind him. He turned around, almost expecting his brother there but he only saw a gua- Sir Deceit. The man held a hand to his mouth, but Roman could still see how his eyes crinkled. Roman raised an eyebrow, “Is something funny?”

Sir Deceit shook his head before he dropped his hand to reveal the smile on his face, “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman let out a short breath as he held a tensed smile. The words were too light-hearted. As if he wasn’t a guard who worked for him and instead as if they were friends for many years. “Permission granted.”

Sir Deceit took a few small steps towards him. Roman found himself looking away and towards the mirror, but even that still held his the guard’s reflection. He could luckily see that the man’s eyes lingered on his outfit instead of him. “It’s ridiculous,” Sir Deceit quietly said, almost as if it was to himself. “You spend so much time on everything that’s already perfect that you fail to acknowledge what actually needs to be fixed.”

Roman scoffed, “If you’re so fashionably gifted then please let me know what needs to be ‘fixed.’” The last word was sarcastic as Roman resisted rolling his eyes.

“Your collar,” Sir Deceit responded without hesitation. “It’s a bit crooked.”

Roman looked into the mirror. His collar seemed normal to him- perfect even. Perhaps Sir Deceit was just a liar trying to get a rise out of Roman to finally prove that he shouldn’t be king. Maybe even point out that learning what kings should know shouldn’t be so difficult for him. “My collar is fine.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Roman took his gaze away from his collar and towards Sir Deceit. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Sir Deceit stood there for a moment before he took the smallest step towards Roman. He gently grabbed Roman’s collar, making a few tugs that Roman caught in the mirror before the guard pulled away. “I didn’t hear you, what did you say?” There was a hidden smugness behind the words that made Roman smile.

“My collar was fine, but-” thank you. He shouldn’t thank a guard, he was simply doing his job. Guards didn't get thanked for the bare minimum, only if they saved a life or did something else heroic. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

Janus nodded once, apparently pleased with Roman’s response. “As you wish, my prince.”

---

Roman let out a long breath as he tried to read over the words again. They only seemed blurrier as more tears filled his vision. It was simple, he shouldn’t be acting so stupid about it. Although the laws contradicted each other, he was sure they made sense. He just wasn’t trying hard enough. 

He let out a slow, shaky breath, as he leaned back in his chair. He gently blinked the tears out, willing himself not to sob in the library. He carefully wiped the shed tears away, making sure not to rub them so his face wouldn’t be splotchy. A good king didn't cry over something so easy.

A moment too long passed with only more emotion brewing inside him. He looked down at his book again, his gaze momentarily catching a guard’s, but he quickly focused his mind on the book. 

The words were still blurry, but he tried to make himself focus on the content. Perhaps he wasn’t even reading the words anymore, only scanning the page in case it would randomly start to make sense. Somewhere between seconds and minutes, he felt a warm presence on his shoulder that made him want to curl up in hopes that it surrounded him. Through a quick glance, he spotted a gloved hand resting there. “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

It was Sir Deceit. He didn’t remember that the man wore gloves. Roman nodded to the guard’s question, not trusting his voice with a confident answer.

“You should rest, my prince.” The sympathetic voice dripped into Roman’s ears, filling them with pity and kind-hearted melancholy.

Roman weakly shook his head. He didn’t need a break. He needed to understand. He blinked as a tear slid down his face and silently fell onto the page. He shouldn’t be this pathetic, it was simple. All the other kings understood it with ease- perhaps he didn’t deserve the role so graciously given to him.

Sir Deceit gave a gentle squeeze to Roman’s shoulder. The direct action made him wilt, any confidence he held fading away. When the book was removed from him, he followed it with his vision. He saw gloves holding it, dabbing the part of the page wetted by Roman’s tear.

Roman let out a quiet sigh as Sir Deceit closed the book. “You won’t get anywhere tonight and it’ll be here tomorrow.” The words were too gentle to reject, turning painfully in Roman’s chest. He stood up, but the feeling still lingered when he turned away. He took a step away from Sir Deceit, feeling the hand slowly slip off him. 

“You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.” He couldn’t find himself to care that his voice broke or how he felt a sob breaking through him that he managed to quiet at the last moment. There was something hesitant said to him. Perhaps a farewell, goodbye, or another phrase for departure.

Or perhaps it was confirmation that he shouldn’t be king.

---

Roman stood in the mirror as he adjusted his collar. He cringed at the sight of himself as he tried to focus on anything else, but it all seemed so wrong. Flat hair accompanied with too-pale skin didn’t compliment the slight frown on his face. He tried to flash himself a smile, but it seemed far too flimsy. A small breath left him. He didn’t have anything to do, so he might just keep himself in the library. 

Not for long of course. Only an hour or two to refresh his mind. The steps there were easy after all. Sir Deceit trailed close behind. Roman would’ve complained about his constant presence, but a small part of him liked the familiarity of the golden eye accompanied by a warm voice. There was nothing personal about the attachment. The traits would have been nice on anyone.

The library brought a vague feeling of dread that he pushed down as he inhaled the calm scent of books. He walked to a table and sat down. A pile of books rested next to the chair. He quietly picked one up as he opened it to where he last was. 

The pages seemed kinder to him today. There was still minor frustration embedded into the words, but he still turned the page after a minute or two of processing what he read. He sat straight up, leaning to the side as he heard a few cracks from his back as he stretched. After a moment of letting his body move, he refocused his eyes onto the book. 

A warm voice welcomed him away from the text, “Prince Roman, permission to speak freely?”

Roman looked up from the book and to Sir Deceit. “Of course.” A soft smile found a way onto his face, but it felt the slightest bit strained. 

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

Roman frowned as he noticed an appetite that had appeared at random. He shook his head.

Sir Deceit continued where he didn’t, “Do you plan to eat soon?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m not sure how you view ‘soon,’ but I’ll eat eventually.”

The conversation quieted in a way Roman found himself comfortable with. He settled back into his book, only making it a few pages before Sir Deceit spoke again, “I can bring you something from the kitchen.” The words dipped into a concern that made Roman shift slightly in his chair. 

“Food isn’t allowed into the library.” It was odd that Sir Deceit apparently seemed to not know the rules of the castle, speaking so casually and making improper requests. 

“There’s more than rules in life, my prince.”

Roman tensed as he looked away from his book and up at Sir Deceit. He didn’t spend months if not years learning what the rules were for himself and the kingdom just for a guard to say that they weren’t important. “Rules define who a person is, Sir Deceit.” His voice was laced with bitterness he didn’t have the patience to apologize for.

Yet, Sir Deceit seemed oblivious to it as he shook his head. “They might define social norms and common courtesy, but they don’t do much more than that.”

Roman looked down at his book. He didn’t have time for this. Janus quietly sighed. “Would you like me to bring you something from the kitchen, Prince Roman?”

Roman didn’t bother to look up at the guard. “You’re dismissed, Sir Deceit.”

---

The uprising was ineluctable yet unscrupulous. Their power contended the sovereignty of their time with the insistence of their previous-

The sound of the plate in front of him brought him out of the pages and into the library. He blinked up at the food as his stomach let out a quiet growl. “I’m-” fine. His sentence was cut off by the sight of a yellow glove gently hanging at the side of the plate. He looked up, spotting Sir Deceit himself standing there. “I didn’t request this.”

Sir Deceit nodded once, the action too quick and smug for any possible hesitance to slip through. “I’m aware of that, Prince Roman.”

Roman let his shoulders drop slightly as he fiddled with one of the pages. “You can take that back to the kitchen,” he said through an exhale.

“A good king takes care of himself.”

Then I won’t be a good king. “I’m not king yet.”

“You’re practicing to become one, no?” Roman rolled his eyes. Even through his practices, most of the time he failed at the simplest traditions and memorization. “Roman, you have to take care of yourself. Even if you’re excited about your new position, you’re still… human.”

“I’m not excited about any of this,” the words were his own, but they left him without permission, only weighing heavily as he continued to talk, “I never asked to be a prince. I- I know I should be grateful, but…” He let his voice drift off with a long exhale picking up its place. His eyes drifted back to the book.

“Stand up.”

Roman chuckled as he looked up at Sir Deceit. “You’re a guard, you’re in no position to command a prince.”

Sir Deceit rolled his eyes with a faux smile on his face. “I would like to request you to stand up, my prince.” He held out a gloved hand out to Roman. Hesitation shined from the interaction, but Roman gently held Sir Deceit’s hand as he stood up.

Sir Deceit began walking as Roman followed along. They wandered through the old library, the silence stretching between them finding a comfortable place through their echoing footsteps. The guard turned around corners and hallways Roman had never seen, leading him to a wooden door that Sir Deceit opened with ease. 

Roman quietly gasped at the cold air that hit him. It was a door that led outside. Sir Deceit gently tugged for him to go further, but Roman stood where he was. “I’m not allowed to go outside after dark.” He looked through the door with admiration. The sky was dark as he saw glimpses of tall spruce trees and small specks of stars. 

Sir Deceit turned to him, a gentle smile on his face. Not one tinted with compassion, but one of adventure. “There’s more to life than social boundaries.”

And with a tug of his hand, Roman started slowly walking outside with his guard. The grass moved underneath his shoes. It would have done that in the day too, but it seemed so different with the quiet secretiveness.

It only took a few steps for Roman to stare at the stars. He saw them in old books and paintings hung across the walls, but he never saw them before. “What would have happened if I never brought you out here?” The question was quiet in a way that seemed rhetorical but it didn’t stop Roman from wondering. 

He looked down from the stars and into Sir Deceit’s eyes. The golden one seemed to oddly glow. “I would’ve stayed in the library.”

“No, I mean long-term.” Roman found himself taking glances away from Sir Deceit’s eyes and towards the stars behind him. “You would’ve missed this.”

Roman shook his head. “I would’ve eventually seen them.”

Sir Deceit shrugged. “I’ve looked through the rules. You’re only allowed out this late a few times a year.”

“So you do know what the rules are.”

Sir Deceit shook his head slightly, a silent laugh of sorts. “I’m well aware of what they are. I just know they aren’t worth paying attention to. Especially compared to moments like this.”

Roman found himself nodding to the words as he looked at his fingers interlocked with Sir Deceit’s. He tested the waters, giving the hand a small squeeze. He received one in return without a response.

He barely thought before he pressed his lips onto Sir Deceit’s. His eyes closed, but he could still feel the stars. He took his free hand to cup Sir Deceit’s cheek, keeping him close into the kiss. A slow moment passed before he pulled away with a smile. “You’re something different, Sir Deceit.”

“It’s Janus.”

Roman’s smile faltered for a brief moment. “You aren’t supposed to say your real name. You could be permanently dismissed- if not exiled for such a thing.” Something set uncomfortably in his chest at the idea of not seeing Sir Dec- Janus’ golden eye again. Or to hear how a question dripped in sarcasm and politeness at the same time.

Janus pressed a quick kiss onto Roman’s lips. “Maybe I don’t care anymore, prince Roman.”

“Just Roman.”

A small smile fell onto Janus. “Your name reveal was a little less dramatic.”

Roman let a chuckle escape him. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t given a secret name.”

Janus gave Roman’s hand a light squeeze. “You don’t need one, I’ll just call you mine.”

[saabbi]

Regret part 8

Home

Genshin Impact Adeptus!au

warnings: -

notes: I definitely did NOT forget tumblr and posted this chapter on all other platforms except here. ao3 series link

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A wave of nausea hits you, as you sit up with a throbbing headache. Your pounding head feels like it’s about to crack open, and the bumpy searide is definitely not helping, disrupting you from your much needed rest.

Knock knock. You dragged your body to the door, opening it to find a crew member greeting you.

“Hey! Our crew has prepared some meals, the captain asked if you’d like to sit with us to eat as well?”

“It’s fine, I don’t-” rumble , your stomach rumbles like the storms in Inazuma. Oh, how embarrassed you are.

“Oh my, you must be starving! Come on out! It should be ready!” they drag you out, seating you by the round table with several dishes already served.

Adepti don’t need sustenance , you remember what Xiao always said. Which is, or was , true, as you never felt the need to consume food, eating was only an act to satisfy your own taste buds, not that you ate much except for occasional snacks Childe brings you. But archons do you finally understand the word famished .

The Crux’s crew members are all amiable towards you and lively; filling your bowl with rice to the brim, keeps on adding more meat and vegetables to your bowl after seeing you wolf down the food given like you haven’t eaten for days- you couldn’t even thank them fast enough with your mouth full. The captain, boisterous and energetic, would tell you stories of the crew’s sea journeys while you devoured the dishes. It’s the first time we’ve had a Snezhnayan onboard , she told you with her crew’s eyes sparkling and nodding in agreement.

“So...you’re what they call the harbingers, right? From the Fatui-gang thing? Why are you heading to Liyue?” The captain nonchalantly asked you, causing your hands to freeze on the spot.

Swallowing the mouthful of rice and putting down your chopsticks, you lowered your voice, “Um, I was one, until recently. For now I suppose I’m… meeting up with old friends back in Liyue.” You awkwardly rubbed your neck. The harbinger title may once mean everything to you, but not anymore.

“Oh... is that so?” Beidou sensed stiffness from you, deciding not to press any further, “well, starting off fresh doesn't always mean it’s bad, and meeting up with good old friends huh? That is quite nice, must be looking forward to it, huh?”

“Yes...i-it is quite nice…” Beidou chuckles at your slightly flustered response and lightly ruffles your hair, then continues to stuff your bowl with even more food to make sure you eat enough. She said that you looked pale and sickly, urging you to gobble down more food, with you unable to protest with your mouth full.

.

.

.

You’re definitely less agile compared to before. Your body doesn’t feel as light, no longer able to reach high grounds with a simple jump. Your sword is also a lot heavier than it was, or maybe you just lost strength.

“The clean strikes and experience hidden in the stance...impressive indeed, gozaru. ” a uniquely dressed crewmate who saw you practicing your swings clap at your demonstration. You remember Beidou calling him Kazuha, he seems to be impressed at your skills which are aged like fine wine. Your swings are less powerful and slower than before, but you still have your swordsmanship skills and techniques embedded in you.

“Yet you seem a bit… preoccupied. Is there something on your mind?”

You put your blade aside and lean on the railing of the ship, aimlessly tracing the waves that seem to chase after the ship, “I’m not sure what to say when I see him again.”

What should you say when you see Zhongli? Long time no see? I was fired by the Tsarista herself, so I came back? Everything just sounds incredibly wrong.

“There’s a lot of things I want to say, but I also don’t know what to tell him.”

The tingling excitement in you clashes with the anxiousness, uncertain of how to face Zhongli. You were once an adeptus of Liyue, then the twelve harbinger of the Fatui, and now… you lost both titles. You even lost your adeptal powers, could you even consider yourself an adeptus now? How would Zhongli respond when he hears all of this? You sigh, wishing the ship would give you more time for mental preparation before reaching Liyue.

“I’m sure that your feelings, just like the wind, will surely properly reach them. What’s important is that you convey them before everything’s too late.” Kazuha gazes distantly into the ocean. You overlook the lingering loneliness in his last sentence, deciding you’re not in the position to pry into it and put your focus onto the gentle rocking of the sea instead.

.

.

.

Zhongli paces back and forth continuously by the harbour, rubbing his fingers apprehensively with a stern expression on his face which made even Hutao, who was passing by the harbour, not dare to sneak up and pull a prank on him.

Zhongli, usually a calm and reserved man, well liked by people, now shooting up and flinching at the slightest noise of a ship’s horn and looking around with uneasiness, seemingly searching for something, received confused looks from passersby.

Zhongli, who received a letter not long ago, delivered in a hurry by one of Childe’s subordinates, spit his pu-erh tea out when he read the contents. The letter was short, with messy and almost unreadable handwriting which seemed to be written in a rush, and only included a very brief idea of what happened in Snezhnaya, something about you getting exiled and hurt, now returning to Liyue on Crux, telling him to wait at the harbour for Crux and to get you home safe.

That letter gave him no further useful information at all on your safety, or whatever craziness happened to you, which nowhere reassures him. He fumbles with the letter until it’s all crumbled and wrinkly, as if it would speed up Crux’s arrival.

The blast of a ship’s horn grabs his attention, eyes widen at the long awaited sight of the majestic ship.

Zhongli spots you effortlessly among the crewmates, mouth slightly parting as his golden amber eyes lock onto yours. You watch as his ponytail dances freely in the wind, his diamond pupils containing mixed swirls of emotions.

Suddenly, you feel like a guilty child who secretly ate candy before dinnertime and turned your head away at lightning speed as you waited for Beidou to park her ship by the docks.

“Excuse me.” Zhongli hurriedly makes his way to where you are, scuffling across the harbour and pushing the offboarding crewmates aside. He needs to confirm that you’re okay. He halts just before the boarding plank, your figure located at the other end of it, standing slightly above him. A wave of intense relief rushed up his head making his vision spin for a second. You’re alright, you’re safe.

“Zhongli,” the worries you held dissipate upon the presence of him, your quiet voice reaching his ears without getting carried away by the wind.

Time is never enough, everytime he sees you, he is reminded of this saying. Never enough time to make amendments, never enough time to love his children and his people the way they deserved it. Time is never enough, but for you, he’ll always make time, as long as he still has the chance to do so, as long as you’re still here, alive and well.

Zhongli is not a man of many desires. The waves brought you back to Liyue, to him. What more to that would he ask for? He has all the time for you.

“I’m back, Morax.” You muster up the courage and break the silence, your words concise and firm. Morax, the name you liked most, also the one you’re most familiar with. You take a step forward, so does he.

“Yes, my child,”A soft smile gently spreads across Zhongli’s face, one that radiates warmth and relief. “Welcome back.”

Zhongli takes another step, his arm reaching out to you and the gloved palms spread open right before you, awaiting.

“Let’s go home.”

This time, without reluctance, you respond by taking up his offered hand.

You’re home.

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[strangerivy]

Say Your Mine

Summary:   Levi and you head out with a small group of Scouts out of the walls to clear out some titans and your taught a small lesson on why your hair should not be long and in the fear pint up emotions are brought out into the open. Warnings: Swearing | Some Violence | Spoilers for No Regrets OVA   Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader (y/n) Genre: 18+ | Fluff  Word Count: 2.8k Author’s Note: So my dumb butt forgot Flagon is dead... so I fixed Confessions in the Snow switching it to Mike, nothing changed though. Anyway, let me know what you guys think! and if anyone wants to be tagged in future Levi fic’s just let me know and I’ll start a taglist ���� 💜

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 845 - Spring

You sat on your horse next to Levi, running your fingers through your horse’s mane with a soft smile, soaking up the little amount of peace you would have for the majority of the day. The morning sun just barely breaking over the top of the wall as you waited for the gates to open. A soft spring breeze blowing through you, sending a chill up your spine. The frost on the almost bloomed flowers that lined the streets and in window garden beds of the homes around you was a symbol of the cold night air still lingering around. 

Your hair blew wildly around you and you quickly swiped it away from your face with a huff as you continued running your fingers through the mane, your horse letting out a snort in appreciation lifting its head for you to pet it more causing you to let out a small giggle scratching the underside of its chin. You heard Levi click his tongue and you looked over at him with a tilt of your head.

“What?” You asked not sure what could have pissed him off so early but then as you thought about it, there were a number of things that could have. For instance, you may have given him your cup of tea rather than his. But he would have said something you thought, your morning tea always having sugar added to it, which is something he hated, always commenting on how it ruined the taste of the tea.

“Didn’t you have time to do anything with your hair?” He questioned looking over at you with narrow eyes, another gust of wind sending your hair into a wild dance again. When the wind died down once again you quickly gathered it up and pulled it behind you taking the hair tie you did have, tying it sloppily back to appease the grumpy man beside you.

“Better?” You pointed at the messy bun with a cheeky grin unphased by his cold attitude and he scoffed once again with a roll of his eyes.

“It’ll do,” He sighed knowing he wouldn’t get a better result now as you were about to leave.  Of all the days you could have overslept, it had to be the day you go out beyond the walls. Erwin, who was leading this mission, yelled out that the gates would be opening shortly. You felt your heart began to beat faster as the minutes tick. 

There was always a sense of excitement and nerves each time you went outside the walls. Excitement to see the outside world once again, beyond the walls. Nerves because you could never predict what was going to happen, how many people would be lost this time? If you would be one of those, you glance at Levi from the corner of your eye, or if he would be among the dead. You let out a heavy sigh from your own thoughts and Levi eyed you curiously but still looking stoic as ever, the fear of what lay beyond the walls never seeming to faze him. You waved his unasked question off as the formation began to move forward, the sound of chains rattling signaling the gate was raising.

“Nothing,” you sighed heavily “Just lost in my own head,”

“Aren’t you always lost in your head,” Levi deadpanned your mouth dropped at his comment feeling your annoyance rise, the dark thoughts forgotten in an instant.

“Rude!” You shouted in offense shooting daggers at him with your glare, he smirked before you started to speed up making it outside of the walls into the open world beyond the walls. You closed your eyes for a moment letting yourself feel the sense of freedom beyond the wall provided before regaining your composure and becoming the skilled soldier you had become over the last few months.

The signal came to break off into your smaller parties, the mission was small so there weren’t many of you out in the field today. Reports of a few titans having been spotted too close for comfort, easy in and out misson.

You and Levi sped up veering off to the left of the formation following right behind Erwin and Mike, you would be closest to the trees that you would be looking for the Titans this time around. You kept your eyes open waiting to catch any movement.

You were quick to spot the 10-meter titan running at you, quickly shooting a red smoked signal flare into the air to signal the other parties. As soon as the Titan was close enough, Levi used the trees on the edge of the forest to take it out. You grabbed onto his horse so that he would be able to easily get back on and continue with the mission.

Levi got back onto his horse with ease giving you a nod grabbing ahold of its reins. Another 10-meter appeared that Mike was able to take out as you continued along the edge of the trees. That was the nice thing about your team now, you didn’t really need to speak to know what to do.

The mission was going smoothly for you each having killed a Titan. Erwin gave the order to retreat as it seemed you had got all the suspecting Titans. You were heading back to the gate with a small smile as it seemed for once, no one died. This seemed to be the case each time you went out with Erwin, he was growing quite a reputation of not losing people in his squad.

You turned to talk to Levi when a large leg of a 15-meter Titan shot out of the trees causing you to quickly turn your horse almost losing balance and falling off but you were able to quickly recover still moving as the Titan tried to swipe at you just barely missing as you swerved. You cursed yourself, getting into a stance on the back of your horse to use your gear.

You hooked your grappling hooks onto a tree just behind the titan using it to gain momentum with your gas to get high enough into the air to grapple onto the nap but just as you were about to do that, you felt your hair become loose flying wildly behind you. You made eye contact with the mindless creature, the world suddenly moving in slow motion as you watched its hand reach out grabbing onto your hair with a tight grip.

You let out a painful scream as you were yanked by the titan feeling the whiplash in your neck and then pain on your scalp from being held by your hair. You reached up dropping your blades, holding onto the base of your hair that you could grab to help relieve some of the pressure, trying to yank your hair out of its grip, legs swing wildly in the air. You felt the air leave your lungs as it brought you closer to its mouth your actions becoming more desperate, your eyes beginning to tear up as you thought your fate was now sealed. You tried to reach your dangling swords while still pulling on your hair another string of curses leaving your lips.

Just as the Titan was about to lower you to its mouth you heard the hiss of ODM gear and a scream of an angered soldier but not just any, Levi.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” He spat as he sliced at the neck, a more than large enough piece being cut from the nape nearly beheading the thing.  The titan began to fall forward with you still in its grasp, but it was now loosening enough for the strands to slip through. Its body already beginning to disintegrate. Levi quickly grabbed hold of you in midair before landing on the ground whistling for your horses to come back before another titan can make a surprise appearance.

You collapsed to the ground once your feet hit the earth breathing heavily as you tried to calm your racing heart down, adrenaline still rushing through you your hands shaking as you collected your blades sheathing them. Your horse appeared next to you and you began to stand up using Levi’s arm to help pull you up.

“T-thank y-” You were cut off as Levi slammed his lips onto yours once you were fully standing, his hands on either side of your face pulling you closer to him. You stared at him in shock at his actions feeling his lips move against your still ones as your brain tried to process that this was real.

You felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip asking for entrance and you relaxed into his grip closing your eyes and kissing him back just as passionately gripping onto his jacket. You parted your lips with a soft sigh letting him in your tongues battling for dominance after years of pint up romantic tension was finally let go, poured all into this one kiss.

He broke the kiss resting his forehead on yours both of you taking deep breaths to catch your breath. You relaxed your grip on his jacket as rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs. He let out a sigh before helping you back onto your horse, you weren’t able to take your eyes off of him as he did, confusion filling your mind. Once he was sitting back on his horse you went to speak.

“Le-”

“We are cutting your hair the second we get back to HQ,” He interrupted before taking off towards the others. You blinked a few times as you stared at him riding away knowing that once you were back things would need to be discussed, you could no longer play this game and you weren’t sure he wanted to either. One of you needed to make the first move, looks like it needed to be you.

You were laying on Levi’s bed, legs dangling over the edge gently swing them as you were waiting for him to gather the things he needed for your inevitable haircut. You traced the groves of the bottom of the top bunk with the tip of your figure as you heard him walkabout, you replayed the conversation you had with Hange earlier while Levi was conversing with Erwin about the mission.

“So, he just kissed you, in front of everyone, and then rode off?” She questioned as she was taking notes from her most recent experiment, she looked up at you threw her glasses, “What are you going to do?”

You let out a frustrated sigh falling back into one of her chairs running a hand through your hair working out the knots as your fingers reached the ends. “I don’t know,” You whispered staring up at the ceiling and Hange let out an equally frustrated sigh making you look up at her.

“You two are so much alike it’s no wonder neither of you have admitted your feelings to the other,” She states almost as if you weren’t in the room and she was speaking to herself. “Are you happy? Are you happy with how things are between the two of you? Can you keep going like this y/n?”

Hange’s words echoed through your mind making your frown. Your mind wandered to the kiss once again your heart starting to race at just the memory of it. You thought about what it could mean, but you knew in the back of your mind exactly what it meant but your fear of assuming the wrong thing had you pushing that thought as far back as it could go.

You lifted your head to see he was getting the chair set up, you let out a frustrated sigh letting your head fall back onto the mattress. You felt a gentle kick on your boot making you lift your head again.

“Come on,” Levi motioned to the chair and you lifted yourself off the bed taking a seat. He had grabbed your brush from your room brushing the knots out of your hair. This was your favorite part of the whole process. Levi always took his time whenever he brushed your hair, it was calming especially on nights you couldn’t sleep and you two would just sit there talking and he would mindlessly brush your hair with his fingers.

After Levi is satisfied with your hair being knot-free, he begins working on cutting your hair to a more manageable length.

“Honestly, how did you not notice this mop?” He questions a hint of annoyance in his tone

“It’s not a mop!” You let out a small huff, “And besides I’m not the only one who seems to have forgotten about their hair, yours is a bit longer than usual as well,” You defended, you heard Levi let out a small snort and you went to turn your head to look at him with a smirk, but he gripped your head-turning it back forward.

“Hold still,” He instructed, you both fell into a comfortable silence the only sound in the room being that of the scissors. Your mind once again allowed to wander to things you didn’t want to think about especially in the presence of the man those thoughts were about.

“Levi?” You asked, he let out a hum telling you that he was listening. You kept your gaze at the ground as you tried to find the right words. You must have taken too long because the room became quiet.

“What is it?” Levi asks curiously wondering what had you so on edge. You debated making something up to avoid the conversation once again, but you knew it would only make the situation worse if it wasn’t addressed now. If the kiss wasn’t addressed. You took a breath to calm your nerves.

“You kissed me,” Your voice was soft when you finally spoke the air in the room changing, thickening as the veil you and Levi danced around shattered, “Y-you kissed me and- and I don’t know what it means,” Your voice was barely above a whisper but sounded so loud with each word, your heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of your chest. 

The room remained quiet, the only thing giving away that he was still standing behind you was his breath. You began to heat up from nerves worried that this was a mistake, thoughts beginning to flood your mind of how you should have just kept your mouth shut and continued playing the game. You went to turn around in your seat to look at him, but he grabbed ahold of your shoulders pulling you tight to the back of the chair, holding you in place. You tensed at the sudden contact keeping your gaze on the ground, his fingers were trembling slightly giving away just how nervous he was.

“I’m sorry,” You panicked going to stand up and walk out “I s-s-shouldn’t have said anything” You rambled but before you could leave Levi grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Will you just give me a second, dammit” His voice was quiet but still held a sternness to it that kept you from running out the door. His grip loosened slowly until his hand finally let go dropping to his side. You pulled your hand to your chest rubbing your wrist with your other hand as you cautiously turned to face him.

He was staring down at the ground his hair covering his face, hands dangling at his side. You took a step cautious step closer and then another until you were standing right in front of him. He slowly lifted his head so that he was looking at you and that’s when you could see the deep blush on his cheeks. Seeing him blush caused your cheeks to start heating up and you turned your head in embarrassment, but he gently gripped your chin turning it back to face him.

“It means that I love you, alright?” His voice gained more confidence as he went on, “It means that I’m yours and I would like- I would like i-if you would be mine,” He scratched the back of his head from the nerves and you stared at him in a bit of shock your mouth slightly opened as your processed his words a smile slowly spreading across your lips as it sunk in.

You threw your arms around his neck pulling him into you in a tight embrace as you snuggled into the side of his neck taking in his scent that always brought a sense of peace to you. He slowly relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his arms slowly wrapping around your waist holding you equally as tight to him.

“Of course I will,” You answered with a smile pulling back enough to look at him “Always have been,” He pulled you into a kiss just like before. He cupped your face rubbing soft circles into your cheeks. When you parted he pushed a few stray hairs out of your face.

"Now let's fix your mop,"

"It's not a damn mop!"

[wullu]

Finished The Rational Life and let me tell you, j'adore ( ˘ ³˘)♥

It's strength really lies in the characters and their connections with the people around them. No lie, I loved the leads and their cuteness a lot but honest to god some of the drama's best moments where when it took the time to show people hashing out their emotions, not all clinical and precise, but messy and genuine.

Hands down my favourite scene was Qi Xiao and Ruoxin's mum talking about their kids and Qi Xiao's mum actually listening to her future family member and taking the time to understand the place of fear that Ruoxin’s mum is coming from. And also Ruoxin's mum genuinely hearing out Qi Xiao’s mum ,not just cos shes defending her son, but becos she hits the core issue and tells Ruoxin’s mum that at some point, you gotta let your kids be. Like she notes how Ruoxin’s mum is such a good parent in comparison to her but also how, being a good parent is trusting your own kids and then Ruoxin’s mum revaluates her stance and listens to both Ruoxin and Qi Xiao and also respects their decision and stands behind them!! Both times I had tears streaking down my face.

It is the effort to listen that is just so goddamn beautiful. 

Love, empathy, communication and trust are really some of the sexiest and bestest feelings of all!

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[uglyshirtsinc]

AIGHT HERE WE GO BUCKLE UP!! Endermen hybrids Illumina, Purpled, and Ranboo! With a sprinkle of Technodad and Sonboo, a drizzle of Little Brother Purpled and Big Brother Punz, with a side of Illumina and Fruit friendship! Less go! This was meant to be a ramble but literally ended up a fic outline?? Could even be read as a fic if you wanted??? What the hell 6 am me???

Endermen hyrbid are valuable because since they're half human instead of making enderpearls they make eyes of ender, and they respawn like humans do so they're used to farm ender eyes.

Ranboo meets Illumina and Purpled after being kidnapped and separated from his dad at the wee age of eleven meets sixteen year old Illumina and eleven year old Purpled.

He's tossed into a cell with the two of them, Illumina being there to calm the younger two down after being used for the farm. Whenever Illumina is brought back to the cell, he cares for the boys and dotes on them, acting much more worried and clingy that normal. They let him take care of them, knowing that keeping them safe calms him.

They talk about their lives before being taken, Illumina talks about the adventures he and his friend Fruit would go on. The dangerous things they did. He promises the boys to one day show them cool tricks, using the excuse of "the cell is too tiny and someone would get hurt" as to why he can't show them off there, not wanting to tell them the little portions of food he recieves (even less considering he gives most to the boys) has eaten away at his strength.

Purpled talks about his adoptive brother Punz who's just a bit older than Illumina, at age seventeen. How he was a cool mercenary hired to do "super secret" stuff and protect people. He tells them about his trident and tomahawk.

When Ranboo opened up, it gave Illumina his first real sense of hope he's had in a long time. Ran talks about his dad, emperor of the Antarctic Empire and faithful patron of the powerful Blood God. Illumina had heard of the Arctic Empire's hybrid son and after story after story began to believe that Ran really was the prince of the Empire. Ran's father obviously loved him, each story leaving him in tears of either longing or laughter. His father would be searching for them, and he would find them.

Weeks turned to months and nothing changed, until Ran was on the floor screaming in pain and Purpled was hiding in the corner wailing in fear. Illumina could hear cracking, popping, and spotted two hard lumps just next to Ranboo's shoulder blades and realized he wasn't just some Enderman hybrid, but rather a dragon hybrid. When the pain finally subsided and their captors returned to take the two young boys Illumina knew what he had to do.

He didn't know much of Gods and patrons, only what he read while searching the strongholds with Fruit after their latest adventure.

Patrons were messy, being worthy to have one and be a follower was even messier. But within that moment, he didn't care. Thousands of voices in his head was better than having to witness those monsters that held them captive force Ran to cough and gag and wheeze in attempt to get Dragons Breath from the boy. It was worth it to return Purpled to his brother, to see the boys eyes light up the same way they did when Ran said his dad would save them. And for just a moment, Illumina let himself be selfish. It was worth it to get to hold his best friend close, to be strong enough to scale buildings and run from golems they'd messed with. To see the sunrise over a snowy mountain, to show the world he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone imagined.

Cutting his hand on a jagged rock sticking from the walls that he had warned the boys about so often, be used his own blood to draw the symbol. When it glows and the world fades, stands before him a towering man with hair as white as snow, wearing the finest attire fit for a king, dressed in gold with everything he wore.

Wordlessly, a deal is made and as their hands shake Illumina is staring into dark, ruby red eyes sparkling with a beast like excitement. The Blood God speaks and tells him "They have been waiting." And Illumina knows what he means.

When the world returns, his ragged and dirty clothes are replaced by the ones he would wear before the monsters took him. A pouch of emeralds hangs from his belt and a familiar black mask covers his nose and mouth. His strength has returned, but at a cost he has yet to find out.

There's no whispers, no cries, no one yelling in his head. There's no insanity blocking his train of thought. No amnesia. He is Illumina.

He wraps himself with the one thin blanket they were allowed, curling up near the gate to keep himself and his clothes covered.

Purpled is first to return and Illumina places a figer over his lips, signaling Purpled to stay quiet. When Ran returns, it takes Illumina less than thirty seconds to have the monstrous man on the ground unconscious. Ran and Purpled watch in awe as he checks the horrid man for anything of value to them. A ring of keys, a pouch of coin, an iron sword, and a map are all Illumina deems worthy.

While his strength has returned, he's mindful of the boys and their weak bodies. He carries Purpled on his back, the violet eyed boy the smallest out of them all.

It takes hours to escape their prison mostly undetected. When they do, Illumina grabs the first horse he can find that's saddled up and tells the boys to hold on as he rides off.

The map was appreciated beyond comprehension. It doesn't take long to find a town and get the boys proper clothing that will survive the journey to the Arctic. Keeping them close and their heads down they get what they need tools wise and leave before the sun can even set.

It's hard, telling Purpled that he'll have to wait even longer to see his brother, but promises once they return Ranboo home that Punz can come there to take him home. If Illumina must admit, he chooses Technoblade first because once it hits the news of the princes return and Illumina's name is spread, he hopes Fruit will come and find him, even if they have to meet in the middle.

Throughout the terror and pain, they push through. From the nights they got separated, Purpled clinging to Ran and assuring the dragon hybrid Illumina will find them, fighting off zombies when Ran couldn't stand straight to hold a sword. The relief when Illumina scoops them both into his arms and holds then tighter than before.

With hunters hot on their tail they can't afford to stop and it takes four months itself to reach the borders between the Arctic Empire and whatever land they found themselves in.

Ran's wings have grown in, one a dark, scaley black with brilliant green in the folds between each bone. The other is a is white and reminds Illumina of a jellyfish, bits and tassles hanging from the wing giving it a much more fragile, paper thin appearance. Both are incredibly strong, despite their looks, and it's often the intimidation factor the two wings bring that gets them out of sticky situations.

A year has passed since they've been held in captivity, Illumina now seventeen and the boys twelve.

Illumina buys the cheapest tickets to the Empire, having to hold Ran's hand to keep him from teleporting ahead in excitement. He cries multiple times, the feeling of finally being free and so close to home hitting him like a truck. Illumina sees the excitement on Purpleds face, knowing after Ran he gets his family too.

They arrive on the island and immediately Ranboo is dragging them the way to the inner walls. Claiming to know his home like the back of his hand. Passing by a few guards, Purpled asks why they don't just tell the guards they have the prince.

"The guards were the whole reason Ranboo ended up where he was, plus they could try killing us immediately thinking we took Ran. I can't risk putting you two in any more danger." Is the reply he gets.

They teleport to the other side of the walls easily, walking to the other, and teleporting. This repeats for two days till they reach the inner most wall. Techno stands on a platform in the town center, his expression showing no emotion and stance as proper as ever. Just watching him stand so straight makes Illumina's back ache.

Ranboo sobs on the spot and before he can call for his father and rush forward a hand is placed on Illumina's shoulder with a harsh grip.

The guard asks who they are, saying they most definitely are not meant to be there, and within that moment a rage so heavy it hits Illumina like a tidal wave.

A year of torture and pain, months of walking and risking his life to get here and right as he can reach it someone stops him. Illumina barely registers it before the boys jump back screaming and he's pulled his sword out to hit the other man.

He faintly hears cries of "Harvey!" As more people rush towards them. He can only focus on his blade pressing against the man, Harvey's, sword and the deep laughter filling his mind.

"It seems you've finally been broken into." The Blood God thinks aloud.

He yells for Ran to run to his dad who's being ushered of stage, his speech being cut short.

Ran looks between his father who has yet to notice him and then back to Illumina who's risked so much for him. To Purpled, who looks horrified and is trying his hardest to pull back Illumina.

And he chooses them.

Jumping between Illumina and Tapl he unfurls his large wings and yells out with a slightly staticy voice "Stop!"

And it's as if the world has stopped, the Blood God no longer speaking in Illumina's mind, Purpled can sag his shoulders in relief, and all eyes are on them.

He looks into Tapl's heterochromatic eyes and in a voice barely above a whisper says "Stop attacking my family."

Tapl steps back, the other guards step back. All can easily recognize the missing Prince, from the two-toned hair to the sparkling eyes only he possesses.

His name is breathed out and demands attention. Ranboo turns to gaze at his father from across the short distance and it's real.

They meet in the middle and Ran holds his father like a scared child, and Techno allows himself to crumble and cry. He cries for the child thought to be dead, stolen from him by those he trusted. He cries for the year and months he's spent separated from him. They cry together, and tears of pent up pain turn to tears of happiness. His grandfather and uncles appear soon enough, he's wrapped in hugs so tight and a pair of wings so warm he could fall asleep.

Purpled and Illumina and thanked for bringing him back, and all Illumina asks is for them to help them find their homes. A message is sent far and wide of Purpled's reappearance and it takes less than a month for a blonde boy, fresh i to adulthood to come crashing through the castle doors and Purpled to find himself wrapped in his big brothers arms once more.

Punz sobs so loudly it's heard from across the palace, clinging to his baby brother and cradling him like a baby.

You'd think after the royal family just about got on their knees to thank him, Illumina would be used to it and stop being so embarrassed, but something about seeing Purpled light up like he's dreamed of seeing the boy do and finally getting to see with his own two eyes the brother he talked about makes him very thankful for the mask there to hide his flushed cheeks.

Ranboo and Purpled aren't ready to let go, so Punz stays with his brother in the castle for awhile.

Illumina is asked thousands and thousands of questions, where they were taken, how they escaped, etcetera.

He takes Techno aside and confesses the deal he made in return for their freedom. He confesses he has yet to know what he's given up to the Patron and his fears. He confesses that He couldn't bare the thought of young Purpled loosing his hope and being raised in a place like that, Ranboo being hurt worse and worse for bottles of acidic breath.

He apologizes for being selfish and wanting to find his family.

And for the first time in forever, he's being held in the safety of a warm hug. He gets to cry and be comforted, he gets to be weak.

It takes longer, but one day new face appears and after four years he breaths in that ridiculously sweet scent of green apples and sweet fruits that Fruit Berries always had. He hugs his friend once again.

They show the boys their tricks, as Illumina promised. They watch them do stupidly dangerous things that make Phil, Techno, and Wilbur flinch and jump to catch the two seventeen year olds, always groaning in faux annoyance watching them land safely, Phil claiming this'll give him a heart attack and Wilbue and Techno agreeing their stupid (while impressive) actions are gonna be bad influences on their sons. Wilbur calls it quits after they manage to drag Punz in, the mercenary dueling the two of them and trying to see whether strength or agility are better. Purpled is torn between cheering for either family member and just yells words of encouragement a lot.

For once in a long long time, they're safe.

[introvert-pansexual]

ALL THIS TIME.

MASTERLIST | HANGE ZOË X G!N READER

summary : everyone has their soulmate's initials written on their wrist and it's your own decision, if you search for 'em or not.

author's note : had whatever is this in my drafts for a while, so i hope it's not too bad to post..😕😕 oh and it's not properly proof-read, so i'm sorry about it ig

THE SMALL DROPS of sweat streamed down your forehead, strands of hair sticking onto it, as you got into your fighting stance once again. "c'mon, hange! one last turn and then you can go back to your dirty lab." you called out and laughed under your breath at the sight of the glasses-wearing brunette still lying on the training ground. hange groaned in response, slowly picking themselves up. "i don't think i'm going anywhere after this." muttering, hange also got into their fighting position, while you playfully rolled your eyes at their words.

"you know i'm not good at this, y/n!" the brunette whined like a small child, causing a sigh to leave your lips. the reason behind you and hange training, instead of being stuck in their lab is you not wanting to train alone and also levi saying four eyes get out of the lab once in a while, as they haven't done it in who knows how long. you practically had to drag hange out of there, while they kept begging you not to, but you paid no attention to their childish whining.

"on three." you announced, earning a small nod from hange. "one... two... three!" after finishing your counting, the brunette charged at you, as you swiftly moved to the side and dodged their attack. wide eyes, hange turned their head around to stare at you in shock, but before they could do so, you swiftly kicked their legs, causing them to fall on the ground with a thud. a dry cough escaped hange's lips, when their back collided with the dirty ground, as you pinned each of their wrists above their head and placed your legs on each side of the brunette's waist.

the corners of your lips curled up into a small smirk. the glasses-wearing brunette couldn't help, but playfully roll their eyes at your victory smirk. the breath in your throat hitched and your eyes slightly widened, when your gaze unknowingly shifted onto hange's inner wrist, you were still gripping. the sleeve of their shirt managed to slightly roll down, revealing the soulmate mark.

at the age of sixteen, initials of your soulmate appear on one of your wrists and you have the rest of your life to find that person. many people's only desire is to find their own soulmate, other people just let it be, while some give up on the search for their one and only soulmate. as almost everyone, you were curious about who this person might be, but you'd never pay much attention to looking for them, because you were too busy with joining the survey corps, training and surviving. after all, the thought of your soulmate being already consumed by the cruelty of this world was always scaring you a little bit.

before you could even process your thoughts, hange took advance of your zoned-out state and manage to flip you over, making them be on the top of you. "ha! got you- y/n?" the glasses-wearing brunette was about to giggle in victory, until they noticed your lack of reaction and disoriented expression. "is everything okay?" hange furrowed their eyebrows, yet got no response from you. ready to ask the same question once again, hange was cut off by you harshly pushing them off your body.

"hey! what's going on with you?" calling out, the brunette rubbed their back, after sitting up from the fall caused by you. instead of answering in words, you slowly raised your arms and lifted up your sleeve, before showing them your inner wrist. the realisation hit hange, as they immediately pulled up their own sleeve and placed their hand right next to yours. the initials of your first and last name were written on hange's wrist, while their initials were on yours.

all emotions and feelings came rushing, when you realised your soulmate has been next to you this whole time. you were aware of your growing feelings for the section commander, but you preferred to keep them to yourself in the fear of rejection and ruining a good, stable friendship the two of you had. a laugh made you snap out of your thoughts, as you looked up to see hange slightly leaning forward and back, while still laughing. "this entire time you've been my soulmate?" the brunette finally calmed out, wiping a tiny tear with their index finger from the corner of their eye.

"well it doesn't have to be true!" you started to panic and pulled down your sleeve, hiding the initials. the heat in your cheeks rose and your heartbeat fastened up, not knowing how to take in the new information of hange possibly being your actual soulmate. "it could be anyone else with the same initials as ours!" you started to quickly rant, before swiftly standing up from the ground, with hange following right after. you continued to panic a bit, while your gaze was glued to the ground, causing you to not notice two hands getting closer to your face.

immediately your rumbling words were cut off by a pair of lips smashing against yours. soon your widened eyes flattered close, as you melted into the kiss and moved your lips in sync with hange's. the two of you were so busy with the needy kiss, you forgot about the need of an air. pulling away, a gasp followed by heavy breathing escaped your lips, while your hands remained tangled in the brunette's messy hair. as your eyes slowly opened, you were met with hange wearing a small smirk on their face. when you were about to ask what are they smiling about, hange tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear and pulled you a little bit closer with the hand, that was still gently resting on your waist.

"you are acting like i mind you, being my soulmate, y/n." hange almost whispered in a soft voice. "you don't?" furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you waited for an answer. "of course i don't, darling." placing a hand on your cheek and gently caressing it, the brunette assured you. "well in that case, i'm more than glad you are my soulmate." your worries slowly washed away, as your expression changed into a happy and soft one. "and i'm more than glad you are my soulmate." hange whispered against your lips, when they leaned closer, letting you feel their hot breath against your skin.

closing the gap, you pressed your lips against theirs one more time, the warm feeling bursting inside your chest. you never felt the need to search for your soulmate, but now you're more than happy you've found them. even though they've been by your side all this time.

[bakugoukatsuki-rising]

I'm. The new covers, op. The new covers. Gosh. Both of them hold so much symbolism. And technically they both are canon, they are both original ideas that could perfectly be valid. Horikoshi simply found something better. But anyways, I'm going to go ahead and ramble about it because Im- Op, prepare for a long ask! Hope you like it!

So!

On the one where Katsuki's the one in the picture, he's not on his knees like he is in the other two covers. Instead, he has his face down, body forward, one hand on one leg, the other one holding out for something...He's bowing. Bowing in Japanese culture is a pretty big deal. Hes not just tilting his head a bit, his head and body are on full on commitment.

Such a tilted bow means a LOT, specially from THIS guy, Mr dont let anyone walk in front of me. Even more when hes not just bowing, but accepting such an open display of given help, Mr shonen anime lone wolf. Accepting something he always has trouble admitting to. Accepting the past, accepting the wrongs. Accepting Izukus help means so much, and that's what these three covers have in common.

His hand is sctretching out. He's ready to say yes to that hand out in the air.

(Ps. I wonder if he's watching his own reflection on the water in this panel, as well?)

Hes in middle of the picture with those childhood friend at the back, which means audience. It means letting people see what hes done, what he's sorry for. He is being open and exposed and vulnerable. That's no fighting stance.

Remember guys, in case you haven't noticed before, Horikoshi puts lots of metaphorical value in his manga and on his covers. Sometimes you've got to dig in deep and think to get the bigger picture. And in this case, the bigger picture screams regret and wanting to make things right from the start.

This cover occurs in the past, at the moment where everything started, and Katsuki fully remembers this. Katwuki has thought of this, is thinking about this. He's had eye bags for gods sake, he's clearly troubled by all of what it means.

These three covers are the visual explanation of what's going on inside Katsuki's head, because this is clearly focused on him and his perspective.

(Ps. Rivers symbolise the massage of time. If that doesnt add to everything else, I dont know what to tell you.)

So! Next!

Wow, if this isnt one of my favourite things ever. Okay. Christ.

I have two options here. Scratch that, three options. Scream into the void, scream into this post, or actually make a good presentation of my inner turmoil. I'll have to go by the third option. (Haha. Just like horikoshi did. Dont # me, I'm funny in my head.)

This cover melted my insides, froze them all over, and hit me with them like a hammer.

I know they're kids, but let me get this straight-so kids seriously look at their friends with these looks in their eyes and think "ah, yes. This is my very good friend. This gentle smile and kind look I'm giving him as if he was my whole world? Well, hes just a very good friend."

I looked at my childhood crush this way, I dont know what to tell you.

Anyway, let's actually jump to the information at hand.

This panel seems like it's making a reference to what Katsuki wishes could have been. And if that's not absolutely soul-crushing...this cover is Katsuki's feelings, guys. These are probably his very thoughts. This scene has gone through Katsuki's head at some point.

We've got Izuku in his stuck up pose all over again, in just an awkward angle. It's like katsuki isnt looking AT this katsuki right now, but at the spot where the actual past Katsuki, at some point, was. As if this Isuku is frozen in time. Dont believe too much in this paragraph, I still have my doubts about that, but I feel it's a possibility. Izukus eyes seem to be focused on the water, while Katsuki is just the tiniest bit back, reaching for Izukus hand. And gosh.

I dont think I've ever seen older NOR child Katsuki have this look plasted into his face before. He's...sheepish. Kindly, awkwardly sheepish. No hate, no anger, no shame, no nothing. His face is clear and sweet and has this "Whoops. You got me. But thanks." kind of expression on.

The hand behind his head, just the tiniest but embarassed? That little smile? It's all so soft.

Rambling about softness though- I really liked the hand scene in this particular panel. If you close up your view, you realise that theres no effort to pull anyone out of nowhere. In this panel, they are simply holding hands in frozen time for no purpose at all.

Katsuki has his hand around Izuku...simply holding there.

Again, because the angle is awkward, it's kind of messy, but you get the point.

It's all simply beautiful. Horikoshi clean likes give me life.

And lastly. The actual cover.

I screeched so hard when I saw this. My first instinct when seeing this for the first time was to straight up go trigger happy fingers and write about it to my friends. Christ.

Everything is so...SOft. horikoshi made a good decision by mixing both previous drawings in one. We have parts of the two covers in one, which is amazing. In this one, Katsuki isnt alone, as Izuku's there too. But we dont have the audience either. Probably because the main focus on this panel is no one else except them two.

Again, Katsuki looks like he's bowing, but instead of looking all the way down, he's in the middle. Not looking at Izuku nor looking at the ground, like it shows in the previous covers. Instead, Horikoshi found a middle ground. He's looking at his hand. At the gesture.

Hes not holding hands quite yet, but his hand is there. At arms reach. Not close enough but there. Wanting.

Theres so much regret and again, softness.

Again, like you Op said a bit bad, the angle is off here. This is present Katsuki remembering his past. The angle is off because this Izuku isnt holding out for our Katsuki. This is a memory. A wish. Katsuki's wish.

(Ps. Izukus trousers drenched in the rivers water. This detail was so nice. It's a subtle action that describes Izukus characterization so much. Izuku went in the river with Katsuki in mind, not caring if he got his clothes soaked in the process too. For Izuku, only Katsuki was there. And for Katsuki, only Izuku is.

As a plus, I can't believe the cover of this is literally called Bakugou Katsuki rising. They named the entire thing after that one chapter. Actually, I very much, totally believe it. It's the moment so many people have been waiting for, after all. The moment so many scenes have been amounting for, little by little.

*dreamy sigh*

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little thing, I had to get it out of my system and dont want to bother my dear friends anymore than needed.

Have a good day, OP! I'll stay updated!

You kinda just...took my heart and curb stomped it, not gonna lie. Your observations are so beautiful and so accurate. The sketch with little Bakugou taking Izuku’s hand is so...raw, and yeah, that expression is definitely one of love. Those eyes, the way he is HOLDING Izuku’s hand, not TAKING it. He isn’t taking it to stand up, he is literally just...holding it. 

That isn’t the way you take someone’s hand when you’re trying to pull yourself up. It’s an awkward angle and just...wouldn’t work right. No, he is literally just holding his hand, and that’s exactly what Bakugou wishes he did all that time ago. He wishes that he not only took Deku’s hand, but held onto it. Held it as if it were something precious, something to be cared for and protected. 

These are Bakugou’s true feelings expressed in these drawings, and I think Horikoshi released them on purpose, to show us more of what he wanted Bakugou to be feelings through all of this. Since after all, we know that Bakugou expresses himself in action, not so much words. And because Horikoshi is an absolute genius, he thought to give us these other glimpses in how he feels through these actions. 

And the other sketch with him bowing his body to Izuku, and the way the log looks like it’s on his back with his ‘friends’ on top of it. 

The pressure of needing to be the coolest, the strongest, the best. Those kids put that kind of pressure on him, even if they never realized it. They encouraged his behavior and fed his ego, and it never allowed him to see how he was wrong. But now he is realizing it, and he is bowing himself in light of that acknowledgement. He is lowering his head and putting his pride away, so he can get back what he lost all those years ago; the opportunity to take Izuku’s hand.

To take the hand of the only one of those kids that ever loved him unconditionally. Who never pressured him or expected him to be invincible. Who saw all of his flaws and was completely prepared to support him despite all of it. The only one. 

I’m just a mess over all of this, and I am so incredibly thankful to Horikoshi for creating this beautiful relationship. AND IN A SHOUNEN MANGA, NONETHELESS!!  

Thank you friend, for your beautiful thoughts. I think they’re spot on, and I am so emotional all over again because of this.