#I’m my defense this is like a super long chapter for no real reason

[ideologyofone]

Feeling evil again

[judesmoonbeauty]

Roger Barel - My Thoughts So Far...

Hiii everybody! I just wanted to drop a review/my thoughts on Roger’s route so far, this all about chapters 1-5. I’m anticipating a lot exciting events after his CE is completed, so I’m trying not to delve into my resources too much, which means I'm reading only 1 chapter a day. I think after every five chapters or so, I will write my thoughts about it. Spoilers will be included, they won’t be super detailed, but they are there below the cut.

Okay so in short: I LOVE his route so far, it’s been great. I laughed pretty much in every chapter so far about something or another. Of course, this is just the beginning and I fully anticipate angst, heartache and drama. I CRAVE it. I haven’t really spoilers about his route, except for one and it’s pretty major, so I’m going to leave that out for now and circle back to it when I read it for myself.

Roger’s Kate So Far:

I LOVE her. I mean I LOVE Kate anyway, but she feels very real to me in the outset.

She is very dead set on NOT falling in love. All she wants to do is survive Crown and get out of there, and it’s nice to see that sense of urgency from her. Not to say that she doesn’t have that desire in the other routes, because she does, but I feel like she really stresses that point in the first five chapters. And understandably so, I mean she’s living in a castle filled with men who kill for a living, and it’s emphasized how she hasn’t laughed/smiled once since coming to the castle, or has barely eaten anything. So, seeing her undergo that stress (poor kid), is refreshing in a way because I feel like in other routes Cybird just glosses over the toll that would take on someone.

She’s a drinker (HELL YEAH). She’s gotten wasted twice so far in the first five chapters. The morning after’s were quite adorable (at least I think so.)

She wants to get stronger and become a fighter because she wants to ensure her survival, so we see her taking self-defense lessons with Roger and Ellis, in order to better herself. And I don’t about you, but I STAN A QUEEN WHO CAN FIGHT. So, I’m excited and I can’t wait to see more from our precious Kate.....

Roger So Far:

So…….I never expected a part of Roger’s route to tackle the fact that he doesn’t believe in love. I don’t know why??? But when I learned that we were going that route, I was happy with it. It’ll be interesting to see how his mind and heart is becomes convinced that love is more than just a bunch of neuro-chemicals and physiological reactions. He is brutally upfront about his lifestyle choices and beliefs - I appreciate that. For example, he’s just like when I get the urge to fuck, I fuck. Of course, he has stipulations to that - both parties mutually consent that they fuck only one time (with Kate being the exception to rule for an entire month as long as she keeps quiet to the others about it).

To be honest, I didn’t like this rule because I feel like it hit too close to home with Jin’s rule with women he get’s physically involved with. (FOR THE RECORD: I’m not comparing the two guys. I’m just saying it reminded me of it.)

Moving on, I just wheezed for a good moment when he compared Kate to his family’s corgi - Ale. Like he’s not saying it to be mean or derogatory, just the way describes her getting worked up, depressed, digging her own grave, etc. It was cute and hilarious. Loved it and I LOVE ALE!

Roger’s Relationships With Others:

Nica: Chapter 1 had me in tears when Roger interrupted Nica’s hitting on Kate. His face was priceless and then to be stuck with Victor as a tour guide. Cherry on the top. Gold star for Roger. C’mere Nica, I’ll comfort you…..

Ellis: He drinks with Roger along with Jude, and he helps Roger with Kate’s self-defense training. I’m sure they’re going to be more involved. I expect it because in Ellis’ Blind Love route, Roger says that he betrayed Ellis’ cursed predecessor and that’s a reason why he’s like a big brother to Ellis. He also wants Ellis as his assistant as he feels that he’s too good for Jude, which I think most of us knew beforehand.

Alfons: Well…..we know how “well” they get along. I was dying in chapter 4 - I think it was - when Kate, Roger and Al are on a mission. They’ve determined recreational drugs are being used, so they’re going to go break it up, and that’s when Al & Roger get into this squabble outside the room they’re supposed to being busting into about whether or not it’s okay to use the drugs or not. Al of course, doesn’t see the big deal with it since he is a firm believer in escaping reality, and Roger basically tells him that when a person runs from reality instead of facing it that it just leaves them more empty - Al is just over it and is like you make me want to vomit in his dead pan face. Poor Kate is like ‘we can’t be doing this right now’. Proper school boy frenemies these two are.

Jude: He’s been featured a lot and that’s because his route should be dropping next (fingers crossed), but he is also a Roger drinking buddy and in the Past Records event, Jude & Roger agree to be drinking buddies in hell together…..if there is alcohol in the after life. Of course, he sees Roger quite a bit for injuries he gets, and when Jude asks why Roger is even bothering with Kate, Roger basically tells him that she is trying to survive, and it’s appealing to him. “A small dream, a goal….even small things to survive somehow. Isn’t it the same for you, Jude?” Jude lore??? More on that later in a Jude dissection I’m writing.

Notable Things So Far:

Roger treats the Crown members in exchange for their blood samples. We learn this in chapter 5 when he treats Jude.

Roger’s father doesn’t have a problem coming to the castle to have his son dog sit. I thought this was interesting. It doesn’t seem that he fears the cursed on the whole, and I’m sure that’s due to his knowing Roger is cursed. That’s nice. He seems like a supportive father (I HOPE I’m not wrong.)

Roger create’s a Robin Growth Chart - this is to help her become strong and survive, but also to teach Roger that romantic love is something that is true - not just a biological concept. He’s already noticed a change in his HR (heart rate), when Kate is around, so I wonder how long it’ll take for him to fall.

Favorite Scenes So Far:

Nica losing Kate to Roger.

Ring wondering if Kate and Roger are together - OMG I WANTED TO GOBBLE HIM UP!

Jude’s reaction to Ale jumping into his arm. So DAMN cute!!! Okay, so I am a cat person, but I’ve been dog sitting for one of my BFFs for the past two weeks (I love her), and I was reading this scene as her poodle was curled up next to (like she literally is on top of me every chance she gets), and Jude said: “…..Whaddya doin’, don’t jump on me, it’s hot.” Then he starting grumbling to Kate and Roger about holding onto Ale better, and asks if they were abandoning their duties while Kate’s like: “Oh, ….Jude please hold it more gently.” LMAO. Just picturing him holding this doggo awkwardly was the funniest shit ever, and adorable and we have the same doggo energy. Love them, but don’t jump on me please.

The self defense class with Roger & Ellis - I’m not sure if many of you know, but currently Ellis is my #2. I ADORE him. He is twisted and precious and I love him, and I get just as excited when I see him on the screen as I do Jude. Him sparring Roger just squeezes my heart so much.

Any scene with Roger and Al. Love it.

K, I should go translate or do something more useful........

[no-where-new-hero]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Day 16 (Part 3, Ch. 4)

...in which Polly considers the human back.

One thing that I’ve really noticed throughout this read along, probably because I actually have to pace myself from chapter to chapter, is the incredibly deliberate way that DWJ breaks up her chapters and brings Polly through mini-arcs in them. She's also very careful to identify Polly’s age at each stage, and she lets us know at the beginning of this chapter that Polly is 13: newly a teenager and thus more susceptible to the dangerously liminal experiences of becoming a young adult.

(This is an aside in what I know will already be a super long post, but when I did research on the Tam Lin ballad and its fellow fairy-lover archetype narratives, I saw this pattern where the humans who drew fairy attention had liminal characteristics: they didn’t fit firmly into one identity or another or one societal expectation or another. I personally think that’s clear in Tom vis a vis gender—see my earlier arguments on his ambiguous masculinity—and that’s clear for Polly vis a vis age. At this point in the novel, she’s leaving the clear and safe realm of childhood and moving into the sexual and social confusions of young adulthood, which is partly how Laurel gets her. But that comes later.)

Right now, we see Granny being heroic in her defense of Polly, which goes a little ways to protect Polly from the cruelty of the world. Granny, however, treats Seb very favorably, for no real reason that I can anticipate except for the fact that narratively, we see Polly’s own ambivalence to him through contrast. Polly obviously feels flattered that Seb likes her, but she’d prefer not to have him around and considers him the blot on her summer. Between Granny’s kindness to Seb and of course the opal pendant, I’m starting to feel like Granny—perhaps particularly Granny’s kindness—is starting to function as Polly’s weakness. It’s something Hunsdon House can get around to reach Polly, perhaps in the confidence that it has gotten around Granny once before, to steal her husband.

Meanwhile, school life continues, with Leslie, Nina, and Fiona lingering around the edges of Polly’s social circle, though it isn’t until Tan Thare contacts Polly again that she shakes back into herself and reconnects with her creativity. Polly’s writing a sprawling epic novel utterly without an eye to outlining and thoroughly self-indulgent is intensely relatable, especially when DWJ describes that afterwards she was proud of her accomplishment and sick of the sight of the manuscript and lost without being able to work on it. It’s a way for her not only to work out her own sense of identity and heroism but also to address her underneath-feelings of sexuality, all wrapped up in “showing off” her great narrative prowess—until Tom slams her with “Sentimental Drivel.” This part is so deeply deeply personal to me, but it’s also great how we see this spurring Polly’s anger into seizing control of her relationship with Seb: she’s single-mindedly angry, no longer liminal, and can tell him off by asserting that he doesn’t know who she is. Her anger is misdirected because she means it for Tom, but its also perfectly pointed: she has defeated, for the moment, the agent of Hunsdon House.

Sam Rensky’s letter never fails to make me cackle, but obviously Tom is trying to do things with it beyond just giving Polly literary advice: in the first place, he’s trying to remind Polly that heroism is ordinary. It doesn’t have to look beautiful and glamorous and romantic to be effective and magical. If so, then they’d have already lost against Laurel, who’s already outstandingly beautiful and glamorous and will never fall below a superlative standard. In the second place, I see him trying to push away Polly's feelings for him. I’ve never really given too much thought to the progression of what Tom thinks about Polly aside from “chum who might save my life” but of course there’s a difference between a romance stuck into a fantasy novel for the sake of it as a narrative hinge (Arwen and Aragorn in LOTR, for instance) and a romantasy where the love story is baked into the plot. Polly edging into romantasy territory is cringe but it’s also demanding something of him that he might not want to give her or that he knows is dangerous to give her.

Tom’s return at the end of the chapter reinforces this: he has again depicted himself as an animal (kangaroo this time) which recalls the ostriches and tortoises of the beginning of the book. Polly, recognizing this, feels indignant that he only wants to see her as a child, which echoes her feelings about Seb only wanting to see her as a meek and mild love interest. In both cases, she wants to be taken seriously as a full-rounded person dealing with a whole lot of complicated emotions, but both Tom and Seb would prefer to see her in the light they want to for the sake of their own emotional security.

(Of course Ivy didn’t get on with her girl lodgers. I hate her.)

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Shield

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5595

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, John Walker, Emotions, Character Death, Mentions of Blood, I know people had a hard time with that last scene so please take caution because it is in this part! GIF at end is the ending scene, so be careful when you get towards the bottom! I feel like I’m forgetting some, so just know this one’s a bit more than the others.

A/N: Here it is, folks! The Part we’ve all been waiting for! It’s the longest one I’ve written so far but so much happened and I couldn’t find a better spot to end it than where the episode ended. Thank you all for being patient with me today. I know I didn’t get this out as quickly as I would’ve the past few weeks, but you guys are so awesome! Seriously! I love that you understand I do have a life and work comes first! Thank you, thank you!

This Part is a doozy, guys, and…I’m sorry? But not really. I’m SUPER excited to see where this is gonna go, especially considering Episode 5 is supposed to be the real tear jerker. I can’t believe there’s only two more episodes! I’ve grown so attached to these characters just in the past month! I’m so glad I’m able to share some of my thoughts and feelings with you guys, too! You’re honestly the best!

I’ll be doing more One Shots this week, so look for those on the Masterlist. I’m still taking requests for them, so if there’s anything you want explored about the reader and her relationships that you don’t think will be explored in this Series, just ask and I’ll try to add it to the One Shot list.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

(I couldn’t decide on which GIF to use because there are so many good ones! Thank you Tumblr Creators!)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“Doll…hey. Doll. C’mon, sweetheart. We gotta get moving.”

You cracked your eyes open begrudgingly, squinting up to see Bucky’s amused grin, head tilted and eyes soft. “Huh?”

He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, confusion lifting an eyebrow. “The funeral. Zemo said we’ve gotta go if we’re gonna make it in time.”

“Wait, but…huh?”

Sniggering again at your reaction, he held up your phone. “You passed out in the middle of a chapter, sleepyhead.” He teased lightly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you to sit upright. “It’s almost been an hour.”

You huffed tiredly, stretching and placing your feet on the floor, taking back the phone he held out to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He stated, like it should’ve been obvious. “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Better than earlier. It’s just sore. That’s all.”

He studied your features for any hint of a lie. Not finding one, he nodded, holding out his hand. “Okay. But tell me if it starts bothering you.”

You placed your hand in his, marveling for a split second at how big his hands were compared to yours - something you noticed every time but still it never ceased to astound you. He tugged you up, and you looked up to meet his worried eyes, remembering his question.

“I will, Buck. Promise.”

He nodded, tilting his head towards the door. “C’mon, cuddle bug. We don’t wanna miss this.”

A groan passed your lips, but you nodded and followed Bucky out into the main room, where Sam chuckled at you from his spot at the table. “Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.”

You flipped Sam off groggily. “Are we going or not?”

“Do you wanna wake up s’more first?”

“No.” You answered the one armed brunette. “I’ll just splash some water on my face or something. I’ll be fine by the time we get there. Where’s-”

“Looking for me?”

Zemo strolled out, now dressed in that coat of his, that smug smirk on his lips. You scowled. “I wish I wasn’t.”

Sam stood up, standing subconsciously between you and Zemo. “Let’s head out.”

You nodded in agreement, shooting the Baron one more glare, before following him out the door and into the city, Bucky right besides you, shoulders brushing as if you weren’t ignoring him just hours prior.

The walk was mostly silent, a few jests between Bucky and Sam plus a couple comments from Zemo here and there. You talked about strategy, with Sam bringing up the fact that he wanted to try convincing Karli to step down. Zemo didn’t look pleased with the arrangement, but both you and Bucky relented, agreeing to let Sam at least try.

It wasn’t until you were close to your destination according to Zemo that anything exciting happened.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!”

Hell. No. 

The moment the voice registered in your brain, your jaw tightened, your teeth starting to grind together as you held back the very not nice things you wanted to say. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called out, tucking you into his side protectively, and a little possessively you noted, as Walker and Hoskins came down the steps, the two groups nearing each other.

You were relieved when the subject of Zemo escaping jail went by relatively quickly, Walker latching onto the fact that you were going to talk to Karli instead of focusing on the escaped fugitive in front of him.

You very nearly punched him when he ran in front of you after Sam told him the plan, making the four of you stop in your tracks, but Bucky’s arm tightened around your shoulders, holding you in place next to him.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker questioned Bucky in disbelief, self righteous judgement practically dripping from your tone. “You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.”

“And you?” Walker narrowed his eyes towards you. “I expected more from you; the last original Avenger.”

You snorted, shaking your head. He obviously didn’t know how chaotic the Avengers were. What Sam was proposing? You’d seen it a million times with Steve alone. Not considering Nat, Clint, Thor, even Bruce and Tony. All of them willing to try to negotiate before running in, bullets raining and hell rising. “First, I’m not the last original. I’m technically not even an original. Second, I trust Sam with my life and I’m standing by his decision. He’s my brother. As a soldier, I would’ve thought you understood that.”

Before he could respond, Sam stepped around Bucky. You saw the reluctance in Walker’s eyes as he admitted a temporary defeat once Hoskins agreed with Sam. The fact that he was so unwilling to try to save more lives - including Karli’s - made the truth that he wasn’t, and would never, be your Captain harden deeper into your heart.

Ignoring Walker’s confusion as you followed the little girl Zemo befriended - which was weird, you’d admit, but it was getting you closer to Karli - Bucky’s arm slipped from your shoulders, hand sliding across your back and skimming down your arm to grip your hand. Even through your jacket, you felt goosebumps erupt along his fingers’ trail.

You finally came to your destination and you let out a small breath. If everything went smoothly, this mission could finally be over and you could go home and take a bath, get take out, get out a bottle of wine, watch TV, and just relax.

What a dream.

“Hey.” You stopped Sam before he could go through the entrance of where the girl said Karli was, holding his forearm. “You want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I think it’ll be better if I go alone.”

You nodded, letting go without any hesitance. “Okay. Be careful.”

“Always.” And despite all you’ve been through, no matter how many times he’s followed Steve’s lead in doing something stupid, you knew he meant it. You nodded again, before he disappeared around the corner.

You leaned back against the wall, Bucky once again wrapping an arm around your shoulder now that you weren’t walking - he liked having mobility on the move, hence the reason he held your hand instead - leaning besides you and pulling you against his chest.

Ten minutes. You tried looking at Bucky’s watch, which was on the wrist of the arm around you. He noticed and turned his wrist slightly, bending his elbow more, which brought you even closer to him, showing you the time.

Giving a small sigh, you nodded slightly and dropped your head back against his bicep, your hands shoving in your pockets, one of your feet coming up to rest against the wall. Bucky shifted to your other side so he could stand in front of the doors to where Karli and Sam were, pulling you against his back, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly.

It was a long ten minutes. You kept eyeing Walker, and you couldn’t help the anger burning through you as he held the shield in his hands. That damn shield. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. And he would never understand it. The fact that the shield didn’t make Captain America. The shield isn’t what made Steve a good man. Not even the Serum did. He already was one. Steve made the shield what it was, not the other way around.

But then you remembered a conversation you had, years ago, and your eyes flitted up to Bucky’s hardened face, the brunette staring intensely at the ground.

~

You didn’t get it. You were confused. You knew how important Barnes - Bucky - was to Steve. But apparently you didn’t understand it quite yet.

You watched from the entrance of the hallway, leaning against the wall, as Bucky went under once more.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, before turning and walking towards you. “Why’d you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while you turned to walk with him down the hall. “Do what?”

“Give up the shield. And don’t say it doesn’t belong to you. It does. Howard gave it to you. You’re the reason it’s…a symbol.”

He hummed. “And what exactly is it a symbol for, honey?”

You scoffed. “Uh, freedom? Justice? Resilience? The defense of the whole life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness thing?”

He stopped, facing you with a strange expression on his face, thoughtful. “I dropped it because I can’t be that anymore. Not right now. People don’t have the same beliefs they used to have. How can I stand up for freedom and let the Sokovia Accords track every person they deem a threat, just like HYDRA tried doing? How can I be a symbol for justice and let Bucky take the fall for something that he wasn’t in control of? I can’t. And until the world is ready to change…I can’t be Captain America.”

~

And suddenly, it seemed to click. Steve gave up the shield for Bucky because the world wasn’t ready to admit it was wrong. Just like Sam gave up the shield for himself and his family because the world wasn’t ready for the truth that would come with him becoming Captain America.

God…when did a metal circle become so complicated?

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty lil’ head’a yours?” His whisper in your ear startled you out of your thoughts, his nose brushing against your temple tenderly as he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You looked up at him and shook your head. Of all the things Steve gave up, he never gave up Bucky. And it used to confuse you, but you understood then. His blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and slight concern, his fingers tracing patterns along your collarbone with a barely-there touch that was so light it didn’t seem to exist. You finally understood. Not just Steve’s decision, but Sam’s too. And maybe you didn’t understand it fully, and that was okay, because you weren’t them, so you never would, but you understood a little bit.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, keeping your voice down so the others couldn’t hear, the conversation being a private one, “I’m just waiting for this to be over.”

He hummed, nodding in agreement, setting his chin on your head. “Me too.”

Walker started pacing the room about half way through, getting too antsy for your liking. “Shhh.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, feeling you tense as Walker started talking. “It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.” Bucky stated confidently, straightening slightly from his leaning position, arms falling from your form. The two of you exchanged glances as Walker checked the clock over on the far wall, blocked from your view.

“I’m going in.” Walker strode across the room, heading for the entrance, no doubt willing to steam roll anything - anyone - in his way.

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his chest. You glanced back and forth between the two as Walker spoke, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Buck…we promised him ten minutes.” You reminded him, seeing his resolve crumble a bit. You could guess he was thinking of the nightmares. The people he couldn’t save. The blood he already considered on his hands.

Walker used his moment of hesitation, shoving past him roughly. “I’m not waiting.”

“John!”

“Walker!”

You followed after him, you and Bucky arguing with him and Hoskins about giving Sam more time, but it was too late.

“Karli Morgenthau! You’re under arrest!”

“Fuck.” You hissed out when you saw Sam’s panicked expression, looking at you confused. Walker was flown across the room when Karli punched him, Bucky shoving Hoskins out of the way to run after her.

“Y/N-”

You threw your hands up. “I tried, Sam! C’mon!”

You and Sam ran over to some stairs, turning corners and trying to remember what the building looked like from outside to cut her off, but you only ran into Bucky again. 

“I wish we had the layout or something.” You grumbled. “We were that close-”

“We’re not done yet, doll.” Nodding, you followed the boys out, Bucky pausing every so often to try to hear anything. “I’ve got gunshots.” At that, the three of you took off towards the sound, Bucky leading the way.

Just around the corner from where Bucky heard the gunshots, you thought you saw a couple people slip around another bend. Noticing you had stopped, Bucky backtracked. “You okay?’

“Yeah.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the pursuit, you turned to him and nodded towards the doorway Sam already went through. He gave you a look, but nodded and the two of you jogged into the room.

You sighed heavily, seeing Zemo knocked out on the floor, Walker standing over him and broken vials that were previously full of, what you assumed was, the Serum. Hoskins ran in right after you, meaning no one but Walker and Zemo knew what happened. Meaning you would probably never get the full, true story.

What fun it is to work with manipulators and liars.

********************

“I don’t like him.” Bucky grumbled, the two of you walking up to the place you were staying in, Bucky holding the door open for you.

“I know you don’t, Buck. I don’t either.” You had asked Bucky to go with you to get some fresh air once you got back, Zemo having woken up a few minutes after and Walker and Hoskins had to make a call or something official like the good soldiers they were. “He’s hiding something.”

“You think?” Bucky scoffed, giving you a look.

You rolled your eyes. “I mean…I don’t know. When we found him and Zemo…my gut twisted.”

He nodded in understanding, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah. Mine did too.”

You stopped him before you could walk through the door to the main room. “Do me a favor?” He nodded again with a little hum. Catching his chin between your fingers, your free hand moved to smooth out the creases between his brow. “Stop brooding so much. It makes me worried.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, features softening slightly. “Are you really gonna leave in the morning? I know you’ve had a lot of people telling you to take a break, and it’s selfish for me to ask you to stay, but…I dunno if I can finish this without you.”

“I-” You sighed, ducking your head as you thought of a response, before looking up in his wide eyes, begging for you to stick around longer. “Let’s just finish the day and see what happens next. Okay?”

He bit his lip, nodding slightly. You gave him a smile, before tugging on his hand. “I need a drink.”

He chuckled at that. “That I can fix, doll.” He, again, opened the door for you, and the two of you walked in.

“What a gentleman. Straight outta the 40’s.” You joked, making him roll his eyes.

He took off his jacket, heading to the kitchen, while you sat on the opposite side of the island. “Somethin’s not right about Walker.”

Sam gave you two an amused look. “You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one.” He opened the lid of the bottle he grabbed, starting to pour two glasses of whiskey for the both of you. “Because I am crazy.”

You rolled your eyes as Sam responded, “can’t argue with that.”

“You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

Giving Bucky a disapproving look over the rim of your glass, you sipped your drink, narrowing your eyes when he ignored you. “I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

Your glass slammed down on the counter. Why did he have to bring this up right now? Seriously? You were just having a nice conversation about places you wanted to visit while taking a walk outside. Why was he suddenly snapping?

Before you could scold him, the doors burst open, making your head whip over as Walker stormed in, “ordering” you to hand over Zemo.

You stayed sitting, leaning on the counter and facing the opposite wall as Sam told him off, giving an amused snicker as you sipped your drink. Bucky sat besides you, facing Walker, and you recognized from the angle he was positioning himself that he was blocking you from Walker’s view, whether intentional or not.

You raised an eyebrow, turning in interest when Walker put down the shield, knowing Sam wasn’t about to fight the man. What an ego the blonde had.

Before anything could happen, however, a spear pierced through the air, lodging in the pillar next to Walker’s head.

Your frustration with Bucky’s comment flew out of your head as Ayo and a few other Dora Milaje walked in. Bucky sat up straighter and you stood up, leaning ever so slightly against his arm.

You nearly facepalmed, a sound of complete disbelief leaving you as Walker introduced himself. Sam looked over at you two, an entertained, slightly incredulous smile on his face.

Sam tried warning him. He really did. But Walker, you’ve come to find, was an arrogant, egotistical narcissist who only wanted to win and would do whatever it takes to do so. Even when there wasn’t really a winner. At least, not in that situation. It seemed that Walker liked ignoring the gray area in the world, which wasn’t good. Not in the least.

Which is why you couldn’t really feel sorry for the man. You saw it coming as soon as he told them they didn’t have jurisdiction. And the moment he touched Ayo?

You put your chin on Bucky’s shoulder - who had stood up from his spot - watching the Dora Milaje kick Walker’s ass, wincing and cringing mockingly at the right moments, making Bucky smirk at you.

“We should do something.” Sam said, although he didn’t look thrilled about the prospect.

Bucky crossed his arms. “Looking strong, John!”

You gave a slight snort, not wanting to encourage anything, but unable to hold in your amusement. Bucky winked at you, clinking his cup of whiskey with your own, before taking a gulp.

“Bucky.” 

You huffed and stepped back at Sam’s tone. “C’mon, Buck.”

“Fine.” Bucky grunted. “But ‘M not happy about it.”

Soon, the three of you, plus Walker and Hoskins, were all occupied with a member of the Dora Milaje. You knew you couldn’t take them; they were on a higher level that Natasha, and you could barely beat her. But you weren’t necessarily trying to win.

It was a strange fight, knowing that no one - except Walker, probably - actually wanted to hurt anyone. Of course, that didn’t stop one of them from exploiting your injured shoulder that she spotted rather quickly. The hits were quick and precise, the tip of her spear cutting along the graze, hitting the spot just perfect enough to reopen it. The stitches that had been placed only a couple days ago ripped, making you wince and clutch your now bleeding shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned. “You were always good with those things.”

She gave you an almost apologetic look, before she looked over to Ayo, who stepped through the room towards the bathroom where Zemo had locked himself in during the chaos.

When you caught sight of the shoulder thing she did to Bucky, his metallic arm now laying on the floor, his eyes wide and his stance stunned, your jaw nearly dropped. You guessed it made sense that they had a way to do that, but, still. None of you were expecting it.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked once they started leaving, Bucky picking up his arm and connecting it to his shoulder.

“No.” The arm whirred as he swung it, getting it back to normal.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that left you, making Bucky raise an eyebrow at you. You tried holding in more laughs, but they just kept coming. “She-she...she disarmed you!”

Bucky rolled his eyes as you chortled, holding your stomach and bending over. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Oh come on!” You straightened and wiped your eyes. “That was good! Wasn’t it, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled and nodded. “I’ll admit, it was pretty good. This, however, is not.”

Your laughter died as Sam made his way over to the bathroom, the light air that came with your cackles dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

You stared at the drain that was uncovered - large enough for Zemo to slip inside and escape. He did it. The son of a bitch finally did it. It took him long enough. You would’ve betted against him days ago.

“I can.” Bucky turned and grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

*********************

“I thought you told them.”

Bucky looked up from wrapping your shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I thought you told them. The Dora Milaje. Wakanda. T’Challa. I thought you told them about Zemo.”

He leaned back with a sigh. “It was kinda a last minute decision. You know that. You were there.”

You nodded. “I do. But I also know what they’ve done for you. Shuri and Ayo. I was there for that, too. And you know what he did to them. To their country. Their king.”

“I know, I know. I almost died several times because of it.”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. “So why-”

“I thought it’d be quick. I thought, maybe, I could do it without them finding out and then we could get to Karli and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Win win.”

Your cheek caught between your teeth as you thought. “You could’ve just asked-”

He shook his head. “They would’ve said no. You know that.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I know that. But…but giving them a warning would’ve been better than this.” He hung his head, closing his eyes. “Bucky. Hey,” hooking a finger under his chin, you tilted his head back up to look at you. “I know it’s been hard for you. Everything has. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have let you come along. You should be healing, and it’s my fault you’re not.” He opened his mouth, face scrunching up in disagreement, but you shook your head. “It’s true. I just…I didn’t know it would come this far.” You gnawed on your bottom lip studying those captivating eyes, before sighing. “Which is why I’m not leaving.”

He perked up, those pretty eyes going wide, jaw slackening. “You-you’re not?!”

You shook your head. As much as you wanted to run away, you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. “It wouldn’t be fair to you or Sam. I promised to help, and I brought you into it. So I’m gonna stay.

“Are you, uh…are you sure? You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna, doll. I know I kinda pushed you earlier, but-”

“I’m sure Buck.” You nodded firmly. “Just…do something for me?”

“I dunno if I can promise not brooding, sweetheart.”

You giggled at his words. “Not that. Just…stop giving Sam a hard time. About the shield. Please.”

His soft features hardened and he scowled. “If he didn’t give it up-”

“He thought it was going to the museum. I told you about that, remember? I told you we’d go when I got back.”

Giving a slight nod, he sighed. “We never did.”

“We will. But, I’m serious, Buck. Please. It’s not his fault. He did exactly what Steve did.” At Bucky’s confused look, you pursed your lips, looking down at his hands, starting to play with his fingers. “Remember how I was thinking during those ten minutes we had?” He nodded. “I was thinking about how Steve gave the shield back to Tony. After saving you. In Siberia. You remember that?” Another nod was given, so you continued. “It was for you, James. Because you made him realize that he didn’t want to be the face of a country that preached one thing, but did another. And that’s what Sam did. He did it for his family. For himself. Because no one wants to fight for a country that goes against your personal beliefs, no matter what they say.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Bucky’s eyes squinted, his brow creasing as he tried processing what you were telling him.

“That’s okay. Not everyone will. Really only they can understand their own reasoning. But you have to try to understand that he did what he thought was best for himself. For Steve. For the shield. And I know - dammit do I know - that it’s the last thing left of him. But it is just metal. Isn’t it? Steve’s the reason it is what it is. No one else. And no one is going to change that.”

Bucky took a breath, glossy, worried eyes meeting yours. “Walker’s going to ruin it. I know he is. I can feel it. Everything Steve worked for. I don’t care about Captain America. I care about the kid from Brooklyn who wanted to make a difference, no matter how little he was. I trusted him. I followed him through bullets and blood, with only that shield between us and them. He was home on a battlefield in Italy across the ocean from New York. And that shield was the welcome mat. It doesn’t matter what it says, what it looks like…but it protected my home when I couldn’t. But now? I feel like it’s tearing my home down. Pulling out the bricks. And it hurts. It was never about the shield, Y/N. It was always about the man it protected when I couldn’t be there for him. And now?”

Gathering him in your arms as he trailed off, you gave a couple little sniffles, pressing your face in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck lightly. “I’ll be your welcome mat, Buckaroo.” You offered.

He shook his head, pulling away to hold your face between his hands. “No, sweetheart. You’re not the welcome mat. You’re the new bricks replacing the old. You’re…you’re my home, now, doll.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to handle the rush of emotions that just poured through you, the sudden change in topic making you feel more vulnerable than you’d like. You leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling him go lax in your arms. “And you’re mine.” You murmured softly, before getting up and heading out for the room, unable to stay any longer. You still had a mission to do. One that became even more desperate with Zemo loose, Walker unhinged, and Karli being so close.

******************

There was a silent agreement to not bring up your conversation. Not yet, at least. Sam had eyed you both when you came out of the room, saying you were ready to get moving, but he didn’t say anything either.

None of you really knew where you were going, only what you had to do. Find Zemo and get to Karli before Walker could. Both of which were a lot easier said than done.

Until Sam got a call from Sarah, who told him Karli contacted her personally and threatened her and her sons. She left a contact number for Sam, evidently wanting to meet. His phone dinged not a minute after he texted the number.

“She said come alone.”

“Well that’s not happening.” You opposed, crossing your arms.

Bucky nodded with your sentence. “We’re coming with you.”

Sam didn’t say anything against it, the three of you exchanging glances, before heading out to the location, changing into your tactical suits along the way.

Karli didn’t seem to mind you and Bucky tagging along, and you understood why the moment she mentioned not killing Sam because he wasn’t hiding behind a shield. It was a distraction. They were going after Walker.

It was confirmed only moments later when Sharon contacted Sam. “Looks like he found them, or maybe they found him.”

As soon as Sam announced that it was Walker, you jumped into action, Sam disabling Karli for just the right amount of time for you to get a head start. “I’ll send you the location. Go.” He told Bucky, who nodded and took off in his super soldier sprint. “You hitching a ride?”

You rolled your eyes at his slight tease. “I hate this so much.” You grumbled, catching his hand as he took off in the air with his bird costume. He held onto you tightly, like the millions of times you’d done this before, although it didn’t make you any less dizzy, traveling that fast, that high, with only his hold keeping you from dropping. “You’re lucky I trust you so much!”

He gave a small chuckle at your shout over the wind. “We’re landing! Brace yourself!” You followed his order, just in time for him to break through the glass ceiling of the building Walker was in. The both of you landed on a platform on the staircase just as a Flag Smasher was thrown through double glass doors, down the stairs, and into a power box. Your eyes went wide as Walker strolled down the steps, oozing a confidence that made you nervous. The moment Walker stopped the Flag Smasher - the Super Soldier - from hitting him with the pipe, you knew even before he twisted it like a pretzel.

“Sam.” You breathed out. You couldn’t even do anything, only watching as the Flag Smasher got up from being thrown again, and running down a hall.

“What’d you do?”

“They got Lemar.” Was the only reply he gave, brushing past you and Sam. You gave Sam a look, but he just jerked his head down the hall, in the direction the Flag Smasher went and the way Walker started heading. You nodded, willing to drop it for now to save someone’s life, but you were so bringing it up once this was done.

Jogging into the room, you should’ve expected the ambush in the room, but, to be honest, they didn’t take as much advantage as they could’ve, so it wasn’t too difficult of a fight. You had trained with Steve millions of times before, so you knew how to go against a Super Soldier. Granted, your Cap wasn’t trying to kill you while training, but it was better than nothing.

You protected your shoulder, knowing that was your weak point, while trying to disguise it so whoever you were fighting wouldn’t realize your Achilles’ Heel. Something you often found while dealing with Steve, and even Bucky, was that Super Soldiers, as quick as they were, tended to favor the super strength side of their enhancements. This made it easier for you to dodge the attacks, knowing most of your blows wouldn’t do much.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay on the defensive for long, you decided to try to get an advantage over them. Disarming them and taking their knife was easy enough. A small advantage, yeah, but now you had a weapon, and you could work with that.

You weren’t exactly sure when Bucky joined the fight, but he did, immediately coming over to you when you body kicked your opponent, helping you up. “That was a Steve move.” Your eyes caught sight of the Flag Smasher behind him and you shoved his shoulder down, throwing your knife, making it land solidly in the man’s shoulder. Bucky looked up at you from his crouch, impressed. “And that was a me move.”

You shrugged. “I’m a visual learner.”

You, Sam, and Bucky were about to go for another round with the guys when a sickening crack sounded behind you, and you whipped around. 

Hoskins was against a split pillar, a crimson streak running down his forehead, head lolling to the side, lips red and cracked. The fight stopped as Walker rushed over to his friend, but you knew there was no way he survived. A punch from a Super Soldier? That hard?

Eyeing the Flag Smashers, you turned to Sam and Bucky when they started dispersing, Karli running out as well. They nodded towards you and the three of you took off after her, not wanting to let her get away again and, for you, at least, wanting to give Walker some time.

You weren’t expecting his grief to turn into such raw hatred. 

Running up to the city square, you didn’t actually see it happen. Just the aftermath. Which was good, considering you nearly threw up just seeing that.

You heard the change in Bucky’s breathing, barely recognizing the way he stepped in front of you, only realizing you stepped closer when you felt his sleeve against your palms, fingers tightly wrapped around his forearm. A choked sound came from somewhere, but you didn’t know it was you, even as Bucky reached his arm around to hold your waist, keeping you behind his shoulder. 

Tears leaked down your face silently, eyes unable to look away as Walker straightened, sliding the shield on his arm, too nonchalantly for someone who just murdered another in front of a crowd full of people, cameras pointed towards him.

The shield. That piece of metal you had been wondering so deeply about the past couple of weeks. The link to the first person you’d ever loved. Ruined. Tarnished. Stained.

You could barely breathe, your throat clenching so tightly it was a wonder you were able to get anything out at all.

“James…”

[xpeachesncream]

lowkey (jjk) | 02.

⦿ boo’d up in the daytime

⦿ mackin’ & hangin’ in the nighttime

↳ series masterlist

summary: in order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, jeon jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the ways of dating.

pairing: popular!reader x nerd!jjk

genre: college au, fake dating au, friends (with benefits?) to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.2k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, kissy-kissy koo, mentions of a boner, mention of sex and cum, seokjin’s still toxic

note: posting this chapter a little early since it’s butter weekend, plus the last part of liquid courage should be up sat/sun. still sticking to my schedule in my faq though, srry loves! i’ll do my best to update as soon as i can. 💗

tags: @taegularities​ @jimidol​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @ggukkieland​ @unicornbabylover​ @thebeebi​ @preciouschimine​ @ladyartemesia​ @moonchild1​ @jikookiekosmos​ @marcoazz2​ @kootaes​ @wearenot7withu​ @codeinebelle​ @bigbootyjoonie​ @thisartemisnevermisses​ @maichiverse​ @ppeachyttae​ @fairysunooo​ @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @yukiehyukie​

"I heard you were in an accident last night, babe. Are you okay? I'm so sorry I got mad at you yesterday." Seokjin comes towards you, cupping your face to look at every inch, every detail. You move away from his hold, backing up to give yourself some space.

"Seokjin, I told you to stop calling me that. Jesus. I'm fine. Don't need you to check up on me."

"Are you really gonna keep that up? I said I was sorry."

"Okay, and? I heard you."

"Really, that's it? Y/N, why are you being like this? What's the real reason?" He follows after you as you make your way to the library. To say Seokjin was persistent is an understatement— he was persistent for the wrong reasons. Like, keeping you close so he had you to fall on when things went wrong with another chick, his safety net.

"Because this is done, I don't know how many times I have to tell you. I'm tired of you doing this so, please. Just go." You slightly turn towards him as you climb up the stairs.

"I wanna work this out with you. Don't push me away. Let me help." You don't respond. He watches as you adjust your bag strap and wave at Jungkook. Seokjin chuckles and grabs your wrist gently, making Jungkook suddenly hop on defense as he balls his fists. Like he could do shit. Seokjin would probably wreck his ass with those broad shoulders.

Still. He hated how much of an asshole he was to you.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Seokjin laughs his rare, deep laugh that he uses when he's caught off guard. "You're hanging out with nerds, now?"

"And if I was, that would be none of your business." You snatch your arm away while glaring at him. You shake your head and continue walking towards Jungkook, relieved Seokjin finally left you alone today. Probably off to tell Namjoon, Yoongi and his friends how much of a bitch you've been and that you actually left him to hang out with a nerd.

Sunmi knows you're being tutored. However if that wasn't the case, she would question you, but she never take their side on shit. She remained loyal to you, and always supported you through whatever. That's why she's remained your bestfriend until this day. The senior chicks Seokjin and them hung around with though? Questionable. As long as Sunmi was by your side and you by hers, you both didn't care much for getting close to them.

"Hey, sorry you had to see that." You say as you sigh and set your bag down alongside of you on the long table.

"It's alright." Jungkook replies softly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thanks." You give him a tiny, tightlipped smile. "So, should we get right into tutoring, or should we talk about the details of our deal? I have all afternoon." Luckily, it was quite loud in the loud section of the library. No one cared much to listen in to your secret deal with Jungkook, nor did anyone care because it was Jungkook.

"I do too. I guess, whatever works for you?"

"Let's get this tutoring over with first then iron out the rest." He nods.

"Sure." He pulls out his notebook. "Tell me, what are you struggling with?"

"Everything." He does a small head tilt.

"I doubt that. I'm sure you understand some things."

"No, you don't understand Jungkook. I'm legit drowning. I don't know what I'm doing wrong or where I'm lacking." Jungkook simply looks at you, lips pressed together before he nods. You're not lacking anywhere, he thinks. You're really not. The subject is just shitty and the spawn of the devil.

"That's okay. Well, can I go over some basics? Throw in some tips?"

"Yes, please. Lead the way. I need you." You chuckled, but it makes the heat rush to his cheeks. He hopes you don't catch the rosy tint creeping up on them, so he instantly grabs at the whiteboard near your table and starts to go over the very beginning, the very basics of this semester's OChem class. Maybe a bit from last semester, but last semester wasn't entirely that bad compared to this one.

He didn't expect you to be all that engaged for some reason, but he should have known you'd ask questions left and right, taking the black whiteboard marker from his hand to practice what you've learned with him watching and guiding you from your side. You were always focused, always so determined. You were incredibly smart. Incredibly beautiful.

Honestly, Jungkook go on for days.

The both of you hadn't realized it was nearing close to 5PM and neither of you had really eaten much since lunch. You sit, feeling pretty good about your first session with Jungkook. You feel a little bad having kept him for so long over OChem, realizing you still had things to iron out with him.

[sunmi] 4:34pm: hey babe, not gonna be leaving for a bit. i forgot i had to work on this psych project with jennie. you okay with leaving around 6/7?

"Crap."

"What's the matter?" Jungkook glances at you as you continue to stare at your phone and scroll away.

"Sunmi isn't leaving until later. I'll probably be stuck here for a little longer after you leave." You put your phone down, now resting your chin against your palm, nails slightly digging into your cheek.

"I-I can give you a ride, if you'd like? Plus, we still need to talk.. about stuff." He shyly says.

"Jungkook, that's too much to ask for."

"It's really not a big deal. How far do you live from campus?"

"Maybe a 10 minute drive, the next exit off the freeway." He shrugs.

"I'm going in that direction too."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. We can just talk on the way home."

"Would you be willing to stop by for dinner? We can talk then. Maybe it can be considered our 'first date.'" You joke with a small giggle.

"Oh, sure. Yeah." He gives off a tiny, nervous laugh. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Can we get.. hm—" You hum. "Fire Wings? Down the street?" He almost feels intoxicated watching how your eyes gleam under the light, how they brighten and widen when you mention food. You were cute, and you didn't even know it.

"Only if you tell me what flavors you get." He tries to get smart, which makes you laugh. He made you laugh.

"Is this judgment day? Gonna see if you should call quits on our deal before it even starts?"

"Maybe." He goes along with it.

"Okay. Garlic Parmesan and Dragon." You pack up your things before shooting him a look.

"Okay, solid flavors." He nods. "I guess we can continue on."

"You're funny." You giggle as you both throw your bags onto your backs. You stay in your position until Jungkook comes to your side so you can walk by him. You don't know much about him, but he has a soft demeanor and he makes you feel comfortable. You had only seen him a couple of times across campus, not really noticing him much in class either. You feel a little bad knowing you didn't even try being that he sat behind you, but better late than never I guess? Maybe there was a reason for all of this happening. The way he tutored you today was insane, too— he was super smart, but broke it down perfectly, was patient. He was patient.

No wonder Dr. K loved his ass.

"What about you?" You picked up the conversation.

"I usually go for a dry rub and Garlic Parmesan."

"I haven't tried any dry rubs."

"You can try one of mine later."

"Okay." You suddenly remember to shoot Sunmi a text before she comes looking for you everywhere on campus. Jungkook stays silent beside you, allowing you to do your thing without being too overbearing or nosy.

But, he honestly can't help but glance a few times.

[y/n] 5:11pm: sorry just saw this, hitching a ride with my tutor. don't worry about me! ty ily, have fun working on your project.

[sunmi] 5:13pm: tutor, as in jeon jungkook?

[y/n] 5:15pm: yeah, he offered.

[sunmi] 5:16pm: okay, that was nice of him. if he tries anything tho i'll beat his ass. text me when u get home?

[y/n] 5:17pm: don't worry about him, he won't lol i will.

[sunmi] 5:18pm: kk love u b

"Sorry." You say, tucking your phone into your pocket. "Had to text Sunmi."

"That's okay. You two are really close, right?"

"Yeah, since high school."

"Cool." At this point, Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok are coming out of the café at the same you two are passing.

"What about you, where are your friends?"

"Um." He sighs, trying to avoid his friends obnoxiously waving and calling him from the distance. You glance over from behind his figure, chuckling a little bit. "That's them."

"Cute. You all are really close, too?"

"Ya, I've known Jimin the longest though." You smile and wave at them, causing them to gasp and whisper amongst each other with huge smiles on their faces.

"I'll need to meet them if we're gonna do this thing for real. Do they know?"

"Yeah kinda."

"That's okay. We should probably work on keeping it between us though." He nods.

"Okay, but. Can we save meeting them for later? They're a bit.. much." You smile.

"Sure."

"D-do I have to meet Sunmi?" You nod.

"If you wanna make this believable, yeah."

"She's kinda scary."

"Jungkook, she's not gonna bite your head off. She just has that look, but I promise she's sweet." That look, that resting bitch face. Really, you could be biased because it's Sunmi. She really only had issues if she felt disrespected. Other than that, she meant well. Same with you— you've been accused of being intimidating and having the same look but you don't mean any harm by it.

"Okay." Jungkook unlocks his black 2016 Honda Civic and pops his bag in the trunk. You do the same, while Jungkook goes to open the passenger door for you.

"Thanks." You smile sweetly at him. He climbs into his seat, hitting the button to start the car and sighs. The music in the background starts to play, and it sounds mellow, soothing— like it came straight out of a fairytale. His eyes widen as he rushes to lower the volume before shyly looking at you.

"Sorry."

"What, no. Don't be. What is this?"

"A Final Fantasy lofi mix." He begins to drive off as you turn the volume back up.

"It's nice. Pretty relaxing."

"Ya, it's nice to listen to after a long day." He pushes his glasses up at the light.

"Do you have family here?" He nods.

"I do. My mom and dad live about an hour away. I'm the only child. What about you?"

"Same. They're probably 30 minutes up north."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yeah, I live in a studio. It's actually my coworker's. She bought the space to rent it out. She lets me rent it for pretty cheap though."

"That's nice."

"You?"

"I live with Jimin. Our parents are close."

"What about your other friends?"

"Hoseok is dorming, and Taehyung would rather live back home with his family and commute. He's close to them. He'll crash at ours or Hoseok's from time to time."

"Are you close to your family?" He nods as he turns into the plaza lot.

"I suppose, yes. I'm just really quiet overall, so they think it's hard to read me sometimes." He parks and you watch as he shuts the car off with the same button. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm really close to my mom. Dad, a little questionable."

"Why, if I may ask?" He comes to open your door again, causing you to give him a small smile.

"He, um. Just got into some stuff." He watches as your body tenses while you fiddle with your fingers waiting in line.

"It's okay, don't think about it. I won't ask again."

"It's okay, Jungkook. Really. Maybe another time?" You look up at him and he nods. He stands way taller than you, almost at Seokjin's height, if not the same. He likes to wear baggy, dark clothing and doesn't do much to fix or style his hair.

He's simple, but in a good way.

You both order your food with Jungkook going first so he can grab a table afterwards. Before he could pay though, you offer to cover him for dinner as your way of thanking him for driving you home. You make your way over to the table he snags, Jungkook silently sitting at the high table with his legs pressed together and his hands clasped tightly on his lap.

"You okay?"

"Ya, why?"

"You look tense."

"Sorry. It's not everyday I have dinner with Y/N." You smile.

"Stop, relax." You watch as he slightly eases up. "So, this deal." He nods. "A month?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"We have to convince people it's real or else people will know something weird is going on." You look at his hand, now resting on the table. "You're gonna have to hold my hand and kiss me, you know?" He swallows the lump in his throat. Shit, he thinks. Don't know if I can actually pull this off?

A kiss?! Fuck.

"Y-yeah."

"When was your last relationship, Jungkook?"

"8th grade." Your eyes widen.

"O-oh, now I see."

"What's that supposed to mean? It's terrible, I know but I—"

"No, no, no. You're good. It's totally okay, it doesn't matter. I'll just have to teach you to make it look realistic and not.. awkward." You perk up again. "Not saying that you are though, okay."

"I know."

"So, are you.."

"Am I..?" He cocks hid head to the side in confusion.

"Like.."

"Just ask Y/N."

"Are you a virgin?"

"I don't know." You furrow your brows.

"Huh?"

"Look, this is gonna sound really embarrassing and I don't know if I'm even ready to tell my fake girlfriend about it."

"Just say it. We have to know things about each other." He sighs.

"I— ugh." He groans. "I did it with my girlfriend at the time. Or I guess my ex because we had broken up and this was sometime during freshmen year in high school and she came onto me out of nowhere at a mutual friend's pool party. But it was weird because we were just hormonal kids and I was just curious so I slipped myself into her only to slip back out right after because—" He's rambling, but you're doing your best to keep up.

"Because?"

"I-I, ugh. Y/N." He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Jungkook." You lean a bit to try and catch eye contact.

"I came right away." He says just as the worker puts down your food and takes the number from your table.

"Ohhhhhhh." You say as you nod slowly. "Okay."

"You can just run now." His head hangs low as he slowly slides his chicken over in front of him, causing you to chuckle.

"I'm not going anywhere. It's okay. Stop that."

"It's pathetic."

"No. Besides, I know you'll get better overall, and you'll find someone who will rock with you till the end. We'll work on this."

"Thanks." He says, feeling comfortable around you. You were quick to reassure him and smile at him, he felt himself melting in his seat. Yeah, you were too good for Seokjin.

"You'll have to come to parties with me. Club events. Events in general. It won't look right if I'm always going without you."

"Okay. Can I bring my friends?"

"Sure." He nods. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Play video games and listen to music. Read comics, manga. Build lego sets with the guys."

"Cute." You smile.

"You?"

"Hang out with Sunmi, or just watch movies on my own at my place. Read. Eat by myself. Explore by myself. I value my alone time."

"It's nice." Jungkook's familiar with it. Even if he had his friends around, he truly liked being in his own peace when allowed. "What about outside of the public eye?"

"Hm?" You hum.

"Do we hang out?"

"Yeah we can." You nod.

"Cool." He smiles.

"Is my car gonna be a lot of work for you?"

"Don't worry about it, it'll be good soon. Just might take a bit cause I need some parts to make it look brand new again."

"I really can't thank you enough." He shrugs.

"Only trying to help my girlfriend out." He boldly says, causing you to laugh.

"Confidence is peeking through already, are you sure you need me?" You joke. The rest of the evening, you continue to talk to Jungkook about pretty surface level shit— what you like, dislike, overall experience in high school and college so far. It was a nice, harmless conversation, one where you were starting to see how warmhearted Jungkook really was. How real and laid back.

None of the shit in Seokjin's group. It was refreshing, a breath of fresh air.

Once dinner had finally finished, Jungkook was on his way to drop you off. He had parked in an empty guest spot, offering to walk you up just to be sure. At the door, he took a peek at how clean your studio was, mainly soft colors of white and cream taking over, with plants scattered around your living room area. The hallway in was sandwiched between your kitchen area and another wall, Jungkook assuming your bed was on the opposite side of it. He awkwardly stands at the door, afraid of overstepping.

"Well, goodnight Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, wait." You smile and come close to him. He swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry when he feels your breasts press against his chest. "First lesson— give me a kiss."

"Right now?"

"Jeon Jungkook, we're doing this tomorrow. People are gonna have to see this at least once while we're together." He nods and presses a quick kiss against your cheek. "Not bad, but a little longer?" He complies and presses another kiss, leaving his pillowy lips against your cheek for a little longer before pulling away. "Perfect. Now here." You point at your lips before crossing your arms.

"Y/N, I—"

"Don't be afraid, just do it. I won't kick you in the balls or anything."

"It's not that. I just don't think I'm a great at this stuff."

"Okay." You tippytoe and gently grab his jaw while you lean towards his face. "Just relax, okay? Don't think too much of it." He stays silent, doe eyes constantly on you as you continue to inch forward.

Sparks. Just sparks everywhere for Jungkook.

He feels your soft lips against his and he relaxes, moreso because he feels like he's lost all senses being this close to you. Taking in your scent. Kissing you.

"There." He stands still, still trying to process the kiss. "Not bad. We'll get better over time, but at least that looks believable. Just—" You put his hands down as they were about to fall onto your hips during the kiss, but they fell short. "Let it happen and hold me, okay?" You smile. "Night Jungkook."

"N-night." He stutters as he watches you close the door. "Fuck." He whispers to himself when he realizes he's now sporting a boner. "Jungkook, what the fuck is this?!" He continues to whisper to himself as he waddles down your hallway.

[bookofmirth]

ok so this might come off as a bit rambly so please bear with me lol

i've noticed that the acotar fandom has this incessant need to be right when it comes to canon and it really sucks out the funness of fandom. shipping is supposed to be fun but when it comes to this fandom, it's almost like a competition to see who will be more right when the books come out. engaging with theories/predictions about characters and the plot is supposed to be exciting but when it comes to this fandom, some of the theories/predictions are problematic at worst and nonsensical at best. like how can you say with your full chest that you're so confident about where the series is heading in the future because of this or that theory when you're stuck in the past and refuse to see what all of the text is telling you in the present. it doesn't make sense. the selective reading is so strong that it has me looking sideways sometimes lol

i guess my question is why do you think the fandom is so divided when it comes to ships right now? i've seen people say this wasn't the case for feysand and nessian, so what's the difference here?

Oh boy Brielle, I have some thoughts on this. It's complex.

To be clear, I am not saying that this applies to literally every single person who ships a certain way. This is a commentary on the fandom as a whole, and there are always exceptions.

This got really, really long, so I'm putting it under the cut.

I think that one of the main draws of this series, and of sjm's writing in general, is her ships. I think that people get very, very attached to their ships.

I also think that sjm does NOT fully think through some of the choices that she makes when writing. See: the way that she takes from all these different cultures and mashes them together, which could be seen as disrespectful of their origin. She has retconned things, like Mor being queer and Lucien being Helion's son. I think that she thoroughly thinks about some of the aspects of her books, like Rhys's reaction to sleeping with Feyre for the first time, but then really half-asses other aspects of her books, like Mor coming out.

Then, we have your good old misogyny and homophobia - people in the fandom don't like Mor because she hurt the poor bat boy's feelings when she didn't sleep with him, and they don't have a mating bond, but she's never really told Azriel "no", and so every single moment of pain that Azriel has felt in 500 years is Morrigan's fault. And Mor's experience as a closeted queer woman who feels unsafe around the people she should trust the most is completely disregarded by the fandom.

Finally, I think that a combination of these factors has created the monster we know as e*riel, and that the fandom is perpetuating its own mythology.

What all of this comes down to, and the real reason I think that the fandom is behaving this way right now, is that e*riel is dead. It's never happened, it's not going to happen, but because we don't have the clear closure we got with moriel (where people would be accused of homophobia for continuing to ship it), people are still trying to figure out any possible way for e*riel to become canon, though every single sign points to it being a non-issue.

This weird thing where people have to be "right" all the time, and the way that "right" = "canon" is a relatively new development. It's as if everyone in this fandom forgot that they are in fact in a fandom, which inherently diverges from canon.

However, I think that the need to cling to canon is because the alternative would be to admit defeat and say "well, even if it doesn't happen I will still ship e*riel, it's fine, I will live with that." But they don't want to do that. In response, they look at canon so hard that they are reading the white space between the letters to create their theories, which as you noted as largely nonsensical and often fail to take into account who the characters are as individuals, how they are connected to other characters, and why it would or wouldn't be appropriate for them to be involved in various plots.

People could say, as eluciens having been saying since day one, "I really ship this thing but I can see that it might not become canon". But they don't say that. They literally refuse to see any other possibility than e*riel becoming canon.

You pointed out that people are stuck in the past - absolutely. The number of reimaginings I have seen of scenes where either Azriel or Elain has literally zero to do with the scene, but people try to shove one or both of them in there. And this from books ago. People are stuck on the Truthteller scene, and refuse to acknowledge that neither of them have acted on their feelings, whatever those might be, for years. And they ignore the fact that once Elain and Az do act, it goes horribly wrong.

Here are the facts as of right now:

ACOSF is the most recent book. In that book, sans extra chapter, those two had no interaction other than looking at one another.

If we include his POV, then he said it was wrong, we got confirmation that nothing has ever happened between them, she returned his necklace. Elain was aroused, but that does not mean she was ready to even have sex. "Yes" to a kiss is not "yes" to every single sexual act Az can think of. They parted on awkward, bad terms after a scene in which it seemed like they were about to start something. Yikes. Unlike Wings and Embers, they did not end that chapter still thinking of one another. After they part ways, the omniscient narrator does not mention Elain, or Az thinking about Elain, again.

His POV occurs months before the end of the book. They do not interact after that.

Elain has a mate she has not rejected, nor accepted.

So anyway, your question was why are people like this. lol. I think the fandom created a monster, and that monster is clinging to life. It can't accept the idea of morphing into a non-canon ship, though it never was canon in the first place. It had just convinced itself that it was.

There are other aspects to this, that have to do with gwynriel and elucien.

Gwynriel is a new ship, it's almost guaranteed to happen, people are super excited to ship it and give Gwyn all their love. I'm sure they would rather create content for that ship than argue about whether or not it's going to be canon, but they are in constant defense mode. Some people honestly didn't like e*riel before because they don't like Elain, or because they don't like Azriel, and those are valid reasons for not liking it. Why people ship gwynriel doesn't matter. The tone of the discussion is, unfortunately, being shaped elsewhere, which I will mention below.

Elucien is an old ship, older than e*riel. I can speak from this perspective - personally, I have been holding my tongue for 4.5 years. I have been letting people live, and just talking about the things I like. Then when acosf came out, it was like I could finally say all the things I had been thinking about Azriel, because I now had proof that the things I thought about his character (and because of that, about e*riel) now had solid canon foundation. This is 4.5 years of me holding in a lot of shit and finally being able to say it. Sometimes yes, I might take joy in having been right.

I think that a few people are clinging to canon, and that sets the tone for the discourse in the fandom. Someone says "according to page whatever, blah blah blah" and people feel the need to respond, and then it turns into and "I'm right" contest instead of... a fandom... A lot of us like debating. To me, it's fun. But when Person A starts a conversation that's about canon and it actually ignores canon, it's hard to let that conversation go by and just keep creating whatever we want to create. Instead, we respond, and so the tone of the conversation is shaped by what Person A decided to say.

I also think that there is a lack of distinction between theories (what will happen in the future) and meta (analysis of what we have now).

There is also a lack of "I" statements. Opinions are being stated as fact.

idk if there is a way to make it better, other than to just go back to ignoring one another. This whole situation makes me want to throw out every single canon ship I like and create exclusively non-canon content, just for spite. Except I really like doing meta, and so I don't want to. I guess for my point, I'll just keep doing meta, keep creating different content, and keep reminding people that they aren't here to continue perpetuating canon, but to play with it.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (3)

Chapter Three- Found You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: The three of you decide to take matters into your own hands which lead to the most unexpected alliance.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Hey everyone! This chapter covers the second half of episode 2 and the beginning of ep 3. Subtle hints of Bucky x reader here and there, but more importantly I want to cover how the reader plays into the dynamics of relationships in the series.

More Bucky x reader interactions in the next chapter, I promise!

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join in with a message or comment in the chapters!

Leave a comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

I really appreciate it! 🙏🏼

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Four

-------------------------//---------------------------

The three of you changed back to more comfortable clothes before meeting up to find the man that Bucky wanted you and Sam to meet.

Walking on the streets of a neighbour in Baltimore, you were curious to know who the mysterious man was. As Bucky continued to lead the way, a kid on the street called out to Sam calling him the Black Falcon.

You beamed widely at the innocence of the kid who was excited to see a hero he had known. Sam went on to correct the kid and ended up engaging in funny banter with the kid.

You couldn’t help but grin at how effortless Sam was with people. He was different from Steve but you knew that Sam embodied his spirit with his own character. He would be such as good captain in your heart.

Soon, the three of you arrived at the house and Bucky went to knock on the door. When someone came to answer the door, you tried to put on your friendliest face to greet them.

Bucky asked for someone named Isaiah to which the young boy in front of you claimed that there was no one of that name.

Bucky didn’t give up and continue pressing on, claiming that you all just wanted to talk. It wasn’t very obvious but you could tell the boy was starting to get defensive and reiterated his point.

He was hiding something and didn’t want the three of you to inquire further. As a last resort, Bucky asked the boy to pass on a message that he was sure to able to reach out to the person you were supposed to meet.

The boy told us to wait while he closed the door. Sam questioned about how Bucky had met this person to which he replied that they met back during the Korean war. If your calculations, that was almost 70 years ago which only meant this person must at least be in his nineties.

Your deduction was confirmed when you were all let into the house and you came face to face with an aged man. The man looked less than friendly and was looking over the three of you with a hardened expression.

Gingerly walking closer, you saw how the man known as Isaiah looked fit for someone of his age. Bucky started off by introducing both you and Sam to Isaiah and vice versa. You tried to put on a polite smile despite the tense atmosphere.

Bucky went on to explain how Isaiah was a hero and was once feared most by HYDRA, just like how Steve was and that they met in 1951.

Isaiah took over the conversation and that was when you learnt that Isaiah was with the U.S military and they had sent him to go after Bucky when he was still the Winter Soldier. You could the small smile forming as he retold of how he managed to take out Bucky’s metal arm in Goyang.

You thought that Isaiah was starting to warm up but as he continued speaking, you knew he was still reserved.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” Bucky emphasized to Isaiah but the aged man wasn’t pleased.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” Isaiah responded as he stared back straight into Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing on. He explained the situation that there were possibly more super soldiers like him and Isaiah. When you heard that, your eyes widened in shock at the revelation.

“I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Isaiah was seething with anger and threw a metal box into the wall. The non-blunt object that impaled into the wooden wall only serves to exemplify how Isaiah was enhanced like Steve and Bucky.

You winced at his action and looked over to see the young boy who you presumed to be Isaiah’s grandson looking down in silence.

Isaiah stepped closer towards Bucky and spoke once more. This time, instead of lashing out, his voice was shaking.

“You know what they did to me for being a hero?” Isaiah paused shortly before speaking his next sentence. “They put my ass in jail for 30 years.”

Once you heard his words, you immediately looked down with indescribable emotions. Isaiah continue to tell of how he was treated like nothing more than an object, having people run tests on him, taking his blood and going into his cells.

“Even your people weren’t done with me.” Isaiah directed his words at Bucky once more.

Sam tried to calm Isaiah down but the man was livid. He shouted for all three of you to leave his home and everyone retreated without a question. As Sam and Bucky filed out of the door, you turned your back to throw a last look at Isaiah who was still fuming silently.

You gave a slight bow to show a sign of respect and apology.

“A warning, miss.” Surprised to hear Isaiah speak to you directly, you looked up to meet his eyes.

“My grandson spoke of you before. You and I are the same even if we were made differently.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Blinking your eyes in confusion, you waited to hear Isaiah’s explanation.

“I don’t know how you have gotten your abilities. But if you don’t stay low and keep your head down, they will come for you and do the same things to you that they did to me.” You took a sharp intake of breath at Isaiah’s warning. It only heightened the fears you already had, making it more real.

You thanked Isaiah quietly before making a move to catch up with your friends. When you reached the steps, Bucky and Sam were already walking ahead of you.

You proceeded to follow them before glancing back to see Isaiah’s grandson giving you a nod of acknowledgement before he closed the door. You could already the argument as Sam confronted Bucky on why he only let you two know about Isaiah only now.

Sam continued to question why there was a Black super soldier decades ago and why nobody knew about it?

“Guys, let’s not do this here-” You tried to intervene when you noticed a police car driving around the corner to where you all were.

The car stopped at where you all stood and the officers stepped out to inquire about what was going on. Sam replied that everyone was just talking and it was nothing to worry about. When the officers started asking for identification, Sam remarked that he didn’t have any.

Bucky tried to pacify the officers who insisted to engage in the situation. It was not a pleasant exchange of words as it seemed like it was going nowhere with the officers trying to probe and Sam trying to deflect.

“There’s nothing going on. We are all just friends talking things out.” You tried to give a brief but succinct explanation to get the officers to back off.

The officer clearly ignored your words before continuing to ask Bucky if Sam was bothering him. Bucky had it and went ahead to ask if the officer actually knew who Sam was.

Another officer came up to whisper into his partner’s ear and you could hear him telling him of your identities. The officer quickly retracted his initial behaviour and apologised to Sam.

“Mam.” You see the officer now acknowledging your presence only when he knew of your title.

You just grimly stared back in response before looking around to see that you have gained the attention of onlookers in the neighbourhood. The officers went back to the vehicle while Bucky continued from where you all left off on the conversation.

Bucky explained that he didn’t let anyone know about Isaiah since the man had been through so much. You had to agree on his reasoning and you knew Sam did too.

The officer came out again to let Bucky know that there was a warrant out for his arrest.

“Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam interjected but the officer claimed it was not for that reason. Instead, Bucky had missed his court-mandated therapy and that was akin to missing a check-in with a parole officer.

He apologised before having to call for Bucky’s arrest. As Bucky walked over to the car, the officer took out the handcuffs. That set you off as you marched forward.

“Hey, don’t treat him like a criminal. He’s not going to do anything.” You tried intervening to which the officers telling you that it was standard protocol.

“Don’t worry, doll. It’s fine.” Bucky gave you a brief smile before getting into the back of the car. He gave Sam a last look before giving you one that tried to reassure you once more. As the police car drove off, Sam approached you and you two made your way to the police station together.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Once you arrived at the station, you sat with Sam as you waited for Bucky’s release. From the corner of your eye, you could see Dr Raynor, Bucky’s therapist coming to approach the two of you.

“Sam, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Dr Raynor extended a hand to Sam before continuing to introduce herself. As you met eyes with her next, she moved her hand to you and you returned the gesture.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise, doctor”. You exchanged pleasantries with her before Sam gave his thanks to her for getting Bucky out. Dr Raynor denied the credits for it and the two of you exchanged a confused look before you heard a familiar voice.

“Christina!”

You and Sam managed to mirror the exact same expression before he inquired how Dr Raynor knew John Walker. Apparently, they worked together back in their military days.

What a small world.

With a smug look, John claimed that Bucky would not need to follow a strict schedule which raised your brows in question. Dr Raynor asked whose authorization was this on to which John pointed to himself with a pleased smile.

You wished you could wipe it off his face.

“He’s too valuable of an asset to be tied up. Just do whatever you go to do with him, then send him off to me.” That word was a trigger for you. Knowing Bucky’s past and how that word only reduced him to some sort of objectification. You couldn’t help the need to say your piece to him.

“Don’t talk about him like that.” You shot back to Walker and he gave you a quizzed look. “Like what?”

“Like his only value boils down to how well he can fight for your task force. You talk about him like he’s some object for your use when he’s a person.” You tried defending Bucky’s honour.

Sensing your enmity, John raised two hands to show that he meant no harm.

“A little bit too much here, Y/N. You’re his girlfriend or something?” John’s casual remark took you aback especially for what he implied in the second sentence. A sudden sense of shyness overcame you as you did not what to say in response.

You struggled for the right words to say and looked over to Sam who gave you an inquisitive look before you saw Bucky coming out. You made no indication to give John Walker an answer as you made your way towards your friend.

You could hear John saying that he had unfinished business with Bucky, Sam and you before indicating he will be waiting outside.

“Hey, you okay?” You spoke softly to Bucky who nodded in response. “They didn’t do anything to you, right?” You added on. Your worry for Bucky only made him grinned at how you were so concerned over him.

Bucky placed his hand at the back of your head and stroked your hair to calm you down.

“I’m fine. Really.” Bucky tried to convince you as you pouted. His hand mover over to your cheeks as he went on to hold your face gently. Bucky gave you a small pinch on your cheeks to tease how you could look cute while being worried at the same time.

“James, condition of your release, a session now. You too, Sam.” Dr Raynor instructed. Sam tried to excuse himself but Dr Raynor was not having it, saying it wasn’t a request. As she looked over at you, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“Would just need these two boys. You’re fine, dear.” Nodding politely to her, you tried to tell the boys to behave with a faked stern expression as they turned back to give you the last look before they walked off with Dr Raynor.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Turned out the session didn’t really go well when you saw both men walked out with hardened expressions on their faces. As the three of you stepped out of the precinct, you saw a flash of red and blue lights accompanied by the sound of a siren.

You looked over to see John and Lemar leaning against a police car and reluctantly approached them.

John once again tried to propose that it was better to work together. Sam considered it for a moment and decided to inquire further. Apparently, the leader of the Flag Smashers is Karli Morgenthau. Civilians have been helping this group to hide safely from the authorities and move to new locations discreetly.

Her rough location was predicted to be in displaced communities across central and eastern Europe. Bucky being the cynic he was towards John Walker tried to get John Walker to give an exact location.

The two of them gave heated exchanges before Bucky decided to taunt John Walker. You could see the latter’s patience wearing thin. He was trying to be patient and nice with all of you all this while but you were all hard on him.

You almost started to feel a little bad.

Sam stepped in before it felt like things were going to escalate and reiterated the most important point- which was that the Flag Smashers had to be stopped at all costs.

They were too dangerous to be roaming out freely on their own. Shoot, it sounded hypocritical coming from you when you were experiencing the same thing. They weren’t killing anyone, they were just trying to deliver medicines and vaccines to vulnerable communities.

Was that really a bad thing? You thought.

You turned your attention back to the conversation and picked up from how Sam said that it was better that you all were separately from John and Lemar. After all, you were all free agents versus them working under an establishment.

It would be challenging for you three to have to conform and work with stipulated regulations and authorizations. That was your cue to walk away but John spoke up once again, stopping you in your tracks.

“A word of advice then. Stay the hell out of my way.” It sounded more like a threat than advice.

“Y/N, last chance. The offer still stands.” John Walker shoots his last shot towards you. You peered over to see Bucky and Sam staring at you intently.

You shook your head before you spoke. “Sorry, I’m with my boys till the end.”

“You will regret it.” John tried to make you feel bad but you knew it wouldn’t work on you.

“We’ll see, Walker.” You just threw a smirk and a mock salute his way before turning back.

Sam clapped you on the back and rested his hands on your shoulder as you all walked off. Bucky placed his arms around your waist and gave you a gentle pat on your side.

For once, they were on the page on something and that was being proud of you.

As the three of you contemplated on what to do next, Bucky insinuated something in his words. Sam knew what he was implying immediately tried to refute the idea.

When the gears started shifted in your brain, you grabbed onto Bucky’s arms to stop him in his tracks. You shook your head before the words even came out.

Letting out a sigh, he tried to talk reason to you. “Doll, you know he is the only one to know all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?”

“Yes, which exactly why it is a bad idea! Do you remember what he did to you back then? To us? He’s scheming and manipulative, you can’t trust him.” You argued back.

“Y/N, he has a point if we want a start.” Sam chimed in to convince you. You begrudgingly gave in as Sam continued.

“So you’re just going to go up and sit in a room with this guy?” Bucky gave a hesitant yes.

Sam gave it a few more thoughts before affirming that it’s time to pay Zemo a visit.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The trip to pay Zemo a visit required you to pack up and head over to Germany. Standing outside the prison, your gut still told you that this was a bad idea.

Who knows if Zemo might try to get into Bucky’s head again?

Once you were led through the corridors nearing Zemo’s cell, the officer left you, Sam and Bucky. “I’m going in alone,” Bucky stated citing that considering Sam and you were both technically associated with the Avengers.

Sam refuted his reason as Zemo was still viewed as dangerous, given that a man like him could have broken up the Avengers.

Bucky emphasized that Zemo was obsessed with HYDRA and they had a history together. Your rolled your eyes at the comment and still showed your disapproval.

“Trust me, I got it.” He told Sam before looking back at you. Bucky knew you had reasonable doubts but he had to do this on his own. He placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressed it affectionately for a short moment before letting go and walking off.

As you waited outside with Sam, the two of you kept quiet for a minute before Sam spoke up first.

“You know, I’m not the biggest fan of cyborg in there but he’s really lucky to have you.” Looking over to Sam who gave you an endearing gaze like a big brother would, you muttered a quiet thanks, not knowing what else to say.

“Tell me, how do you stand that grumpy old ass? Seems like he’s not a great company with his brooding all day.” Sam tried to quip to make the conversation light-hearted. You chuckled at hearing his usual snide remarks about Bucky and then took a moment to think about his question.

“He does not brood all day. You just need to know how to make him smile and laugh.” You answered thoughtfully, unbeknown to you Sam was quietly observing the expression on your face.

Your bashful grin did not go unnoticed by him but you didn’t know you were even making such an expression when you continued to talk about Bucky.

“Bucky is a cynic at times, but he’s such a softie. You know he always has lunch with his 70-year-old neighbour on Wednesday to keep him company. The man’s son passed away many years ago and he had no one left. Bucky is the only one he interacts with on most days. ” You painted a different side of Bucky, one that you were familiar with and you hope Sam could learn to know.

“After all he’s been through, I believe Bucky can overcome anything that comes his way. I hope that I can help to find himself and find peace with himself again. He deserves to be happy.” You got so engrossed in singing Bucky’s praises that you didn’t notice Sam observing you with a gleeful look.

When you realised that you have been rambling, you paused yourself to look over to see Sam with a weird expression.

“What?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Besides Steve, I can’t see anyone who likes him as much as you do.” His words got you flustered as you felt him implying it in a different meaning.

“Well, as friends of course-” You tried to correct the context before he stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sis.” Sam placed his arms around your neck and ruffled your hair playfully.

“Hey!” You countered back playfully before the two of you continued to play around light-heartedly.

Your lively banter reminded you of the lighter moments from your Avenger days with your friends and you suddenly paused in our actions to give Sam a hug.

“I missed you, Sam.” Before you knew it, the tears started welling up as you started to think about old friends.

Sam returned the hug and he knew by your words what you had meant. Before Wanda, you were the youngest in the team and everyone doted on you like a baby. Even with new additions to the team, everyone still regarded you as a darling. Losing half of the team in the fight with Thanos would have the most impact on you.

Looking down at you quietly sobbing in his arms, Sam thought that even though he had seen you grown up over the years, you were always still the little sister figure in the team.

Even though you were given such extraordinary abilities and viewed as a powerful fighter, he thought that you were no different from any ordinary woman trying to live her best life.

You once confided in him that you hoped to quickly retire from fighting and live a life that would truly make you happy. The guilt started seeping in as he knew he had unknowingly dragged you back to another fight.

Once this was all over, he hoped that you can be free to live that life you wanted.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Once the visit was over, Bucky led you and Sam to a garage. He suggested the idea of breaking Zemo out of jail and both of you immediately threw up arms.

Sam thought Bucky lost his mind and you did too. Sam started listing off the reasons why getting Zemo out was a bad idea and you added in your piece. Bucky still seemed to be insistent on the idea and you literally grabbed your head in frustration.

When Bucky tried to reason and come up with a hypothetical, you already knew he was up to no good. Bucky continued talking about how a plan could be formulated to break Zemo and it sounded way too well thought out.

Sam felt uneasy just like you and exclaimed to ask Bucky where exactly you all were. When Bucky didn’t answer, Sam already turned his head to see movement from across everyone. You turned your head too to see someone entering the scene and you had a hunch you knew who it was and that you weren’t going to like it.

As Zemo stepped forward in prison warden’s uniform, you were stunned for words but more importantly, you were outraged.

“Bucky! I can’t believe you-” You exclaimed.

“Doll, let me explain.” He tried to pacify you.

“I didn’t want to tell you two because I knew you two wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky tried to justify his actions and held Sam back from moving onto Zemo.

“You’re going back to prison.” Sam directed at Zemo before turning back to Bucky.

Zemo, for the first time, tried to speak up in the chaos.

“If I may-”

“NO!” Sam and Bucky shut him down immediately. You skipped ahead to go up to the man and grabbed him by the collars. Your hands were threatening to light up with your bright energy flames and Zemo showed a fearful look beside his usual demeanour.

“You’re gonna get it from me, you punk!” Your teeth clenched as the words came out and Zemo held his hands up in surrender.

“Apologies, miss. I mean no harm.” You felt Bucky holding you back and untangling your fingers from Zemo’s collars.

“Y/N, please listen to me first.” You unwillingly gave in once you saw Bucky give you a puppy-eyed pleading look. You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists before giving him a look that said you were willing to listen.

Bucky looked over to you and Sam, trying to appeal for your co-operation. “The two of you backed Steve when he refused to sign the Sokovia Accords. You both broke the law and stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it for me again, please.”

“I really think I’m invaluable-” Zemo tried to appeal himself but he was met with Sam’s telling of him to shut up. You turned to glare at Zemo and he backed off once more.

You and Sam looked at each other, subsequently both coming to agree on the plan. Sam then turned to Zemo and warned him to play any games. Zemo was not to even move without permission and he agreed that it was fair.

You later learnt that you were in Zemo’s personal garage and while you were amazed by his car collections, you made sure to not get distracted while you were around the man.

Zemo made clear that his intentions were to end the Winter Soldier program and thus your goals were aligned in stopping the Flag Smashers. He was even confident in knowing where to start as he gathered up his things and continued to lead the way.

You still couldn’t believe that you had to work with the man that framed Bucky and caused the lives of many innocent people to be taken away.

You could never trust him entirely and you made sure that if it counts down to the worst-case scenario, you would be willing to go further than you usually did in handling people like him.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Tag list:

@tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[likeshipsonthesea]

dex, team bicycle

the following bullet fic has been in my drafts for over a year now and tonight i remembered it existed, read it, and decided to post it. why? who knows. don’t ask questions. just ~enjoy~

so i got an ask about how anon trusts me implicitly when it comes to writing bc they believe that dex is the team bicycle and eventually ends up with nursey and thinks i’m down with that too and tbh they ain’t wrong so like

here’s a bullet fic instead of me doing any of the work i SHOULD REALLY FUCKING BE DOING okie

first things first here’s the dealio this is crack-ish but also not so crackish that my dumbass couldn’t see it happening so let’s just suspend some disbelief and have a good time

first time dex hooks up with a teammate it’s not at a kegster

maybe a little later he’s a little too tipsy at a kegster not really knowing his own tolerance for tub juice yet and he’s dancing, a little more white boy than maybe one would like but he’s having fun with it and that’s half the game, and he’s sweaty and maybe some glitter from other dancers has rubbed off on him and he’s glittery and shining and he catches someone’s eye across the room (holster, i’m thinking holster) and holster sees him and thinks fuck and dex is maybe really into how big holster is and just like follows him up to the attic when holster grabs his wrist and pulls because why not--

but this is not about that (at least not yet) this is about how dex, new to samwell and ncaa hockey and everything, wants to be the best he can be in everything so naturally he goes to the best person to help him with every thing (for school he gets tutors and goes to tutorials and goes to all the profs’ office hours, for social stuff maybe he trails ransom around idk (that’s for later)) but for hockey he obviously goes to the person you go to when you need help with hockey

jack

LOOK OKAY I GET IT ZIMBITS FOR LIFE BUT HEAR ME OUT

jack likes hockey. jack likes people who like hockey. jack likes when people are really into hockey

so when the little angery frog that seemed real appreciative of his butt on hazeapalooza comes to him with this frowny face determination asking how he can be the best player he can be, a part of jack’s brain that’s very quiet and seldom acknowledged goes “huh.”

and maybe they start meeting up for their own practices, practicing drills and plays so dex can get his speed up and reaction time down and just get better and jack’s benefiting from it too in a way, like trying to help a defensive player makes him have to switch up his thinking about things a bit and it’s helping his defensive play on the ice

and so this goes on for a bit and maybe they build up some inside jokes in between all the intensity and maybe there’s some playful moments in the locker room when they bump arms or throw a few chirps around and it’s cute okay and not too serious, jack isn’t in love with the kid (he’s a kid, lord, okay a lil problematic but if y’all know anything about my oc luke dex has Problems with Authority figures so whatever)

but the truth is jack doesn’t really have many people he’d be comfortable “relieving some stress” with, like there’s shitty but he’s ridiculously straight, and Camila went and got herself a girlfriend so that’s no longer a thing, and dex is there and eager and fun and

and long story short they end up fucking in the locker room oops

it doesn’t happen too many times after that, maybe once on a roadie, a few times at the haus. it’s fun, not in a laughing way or whatever, but it’s casual and it’s nice to get off and it doesn’t make jack any more anxious and dex is probably working through some issues he has with tall dark haired captains and they both get something good out of it, which is the point, anyway

and it ends maybe before winter break, either jack decides to focus on the nhl and his thesis and dex totally understands or dex realizes that maybe his thing with dark haired captains isn’t completely healthy and ends things but either way it’s nbd and no one on the team ever really knows, though it’s not like they lie about it either but who’s gonna ask, right?

and so dex and jack were fuckbuddies. for a time. noice.

now let’s return to that kegster scene, hmm?

so the way i picture it is dex hooks up with holster at a kegster, realizes it probably wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had but doesn’t completely freak out because holster’s a relaxed kind of guy, dex is sure it won’t get nuts

meanwhile holster wakes up freaking out because he just fucked ransom’s frog and that is so not cool so then he panics and avoids ransom and dex for like a week and then decides okay okay it’s not a big deal he just won’t tell anyone, it won;t happen again, it’s fine

and then he walks in on dex hooking up with ransom and he’s like Wow Okay So the Fine Thing Didn’t Work Out Huh

turns out while holster was freaking out ransom was really mopey about it and dex, not really knowing how to fix it, tried to comfort him and ended up... in bed

look this version of dex is a little thotty and knows like two ways of comforting people and he didn’t think getting drunk in the middle of the day was a good idea

and so long story short after some brief HUHs going around dex ends up hooking up with both ransom and holster for a bit (sometimes both at once!) and eventually the both-at-once-stuff makes ransom and holster actually acknowledge the feelings they’ve mostly been ignoring since their frog year and they explain this to dex who’s like okie bc he’s really only there bc they’re both hot and so ransom and holster get together and dex sometimes helps them out on date nights and that’s about it

lbr tho they never tell anyone how they actually got together bc they would never live it down so they say nothing and dex doesn’t either bc it’s not his relationship and the world goes on never knowing

so now we’re getting into the middle of spring term dex’s frog year and he’s kind of maybe sort of acknowledged that he has some kind of emotions about nursey that aren’t helpful so he’s attempting to repress real hard, but he’s also learning to repress less about other things, specifically his enjoyment of baking.

yup. you guessed it.

Bitty.

so he starts helping bitty in the kitchen A Lot, and sometimes they talk and sometimes they don’t and sometimes they talk about important things but most of the time they don’t, but at this stage in bitty’s life he is crushing very hard on a certain dark haired captain and that’s kind of really apparent in, like, everything he does so it takes dex maybe two weeks to realize what’s going on

and okay so it’s a little awkward bc 1-the fuckbuddies thing but also bc 2-dex knows how it feels to have feelings for a friend and it kind of sucks like a lot and he wants to make bitty feel better and yeah maybe this is another case of dex being bad at comforting people with his clothes on

but maybe also one day they’re talking about relationships/being gay idk something and bitty maybe casually (southern euphemistically) mentions that he’s never, erm, never quite, uh, never  done the dirty with a boy and maybe he sounds a lil embarassed about it idk and dex’s I Can Fix That brain switches on and he says, “I can help.”

and bitty’s like. what.

dex blushes and clears his throat and says it again. “i can help. i’ve, uh, done it before, and i can, like. show you.” then he pauses and, very uncasually, says, “casually.”

bitty, also pink at his point because he’s a sweet southern boy who doesn’t speak of such things, asks, “you’d be willing to do that?”

dex nods. he does not say that he’s done something like that before. he very pointedly does not say that.

and bitty, well, he’s pining and he’s been at college for a year and a half and the most action he’s ever gotten was with that boy who puked on his shoes and, you know, he came to samwell so that he could be who he is and maybe this is a way he can prove to himself that he is being true to himself.

it also doesn’t hurt that dex is v pretty, okay, bitty loves a boy with big shoulders and freckles.

and so dex and bitty start hooking up.

it’s somewhat like my The Arrangement fic where dex is sort of “showing bitty the ropes” but bitty, lbr, he’s a quick learner and he did his research so it very quickly just becomes hooking up for the sake of it

and it’s good. like. really good and both of them are benefiting from having someone to escape from their ~feelings~ in and bitty’s more comfortable in sexuality (like, his sexuality not his gayness ya feel me?) and everyone’s having a great time

then they lose the playoffs and emotions run high and bitty realizes how decimated he’s going to be by jack leaving and they don’t really have a conversation about it (let’s be real, neither of these boys talk about their feelings, at least not at this point) but dex goes home that summer with the understanding that he and bitty are no longer doing the thing, and that’s okay with him, really, because maybe now his feelings for nursey are becoming More of A Thing Than He Was Hoping They Would

of course bitty gets with jack at this time, so he’s kind of through the roof, and if, maybe, they have a conversation about their ex’s/past lovers and find they have.. more things in common than expected, well, at the least it’s a bit of a laugh and at the most well. let’s just say sometimes a ginger is mentioned in their bed WHATEVER OKAY MOVING ON

dex comes back in the fall ready to suppress the fuck out of his emotions and play some damn good hockey and who appears but this super eager tadpole

this now plays out as the first two chapters of my The Arrangement fic, though i guess now for canonical reasons whiskey ends up with lax bro and not tango, but that’s alright, we’re good at working on our feet here

for those who haven’t read the fic, dex shows whiskey how to gay sex while simultaneously gaining his trust and encouraging him to bond with the team and for personal reasons whiskey is a little shit but not as much of an asshole as he was in canon (look i love the guy but he’s a dick) and anyway go read my fic it’s good i promise #selfspon moving on

the latter half of dex’s sophomore year is spent mostly Not Pining for nursey and getting closer to him, friend wise, until the whole dib-flip, living together situation occurs, dex has a Freak Out, and ruins things a little

..this is getting off track, but long story short, his captains kiss each other on live tv and dex’s family starts to suspect that all those rumors that drifted around him in high school may have more truth to them than they’d been hoping and dex has a less than great summer break, coming back to school in the opposite of a good mindset

nursey also has a not great break (his parents are fighting, then he comes to school and breaks his wrist and can’t play hockey) and well we all know where this ends up

this leaves dex in a very mopey gross state and who to help someone feel better in their time of need than the sweetest little waffle you’ve ever seen in your life?

yes, it’s time for Hops.

now, this is a rather short lived affair, but over thanksgiving break, the entirety of the haus goes home to their families except for dex (who says he can’t deal with bus fare, and begs off any offers of help) and hops, who technically isn’t in the Haus, but stays there for the break while his parents are on a work trip during the holiday

dex ends up finding out just exactly how College Hockey Boy hops is when he almost burns the kitchen down trying to make a grilled cheese and dex decides then that he has to help this boy learn how to human, so they spend the first two days together with dex teaching hops all the basic skills dex thinks someone should know

this is included but not limited to: how to cook without making fire, how to change the oil in your car, how to hotwire a car, how to fix various different appliances, how to take the optimal notes, how to basic code, and how to sort and do your laundry

hops is enjoying the crash course (kid is just grateful to finally know where the detergent goes in a washer) but also, like, lbr. watching someone be competent in a thing--esp a thing you are yourself not good at--is a giant turn on, and so after two days of watching dex be really good at adulting, they settle onto the couch after doing the dishes and hops just gets on his knees and--

we aren’t smutting here on good christian tumblr but boy. hops is an eager kid.

anyway they spend a week fucking and then stop because hops falls in love with a girl in his intro class and then spends the next two months asking dex for advice on how to woo her, even though obviously chowder would be a better bet.

then comes the playoffs and everything is heating up and they’re on roadies nearly every weekend, still keeping up with their coursework, and it’s A Lot, and dex is really feeling it this year, especially with all the shit bitty’s been getting, and one night, on a roadie, he and bully get back to their room and dex collapses with a groan on the bed and bully, chill as anything, is like. “you seem pretty stressed. wanna fuck?”

and, you know what? dex is still his thotty (though more mature) self and he’s like, life sucks a little right now, why not get off

and so he does.

he and bully hook up through the playoffs and into the post-season (that post-final game sex is A Lot my dudes lemme tell you) but then dex gets elected captain and something twisty in his chest tells him that he should not be fucking someone on the team, especially not an underclassman, when he’s got that authority over him, and so he breaks it off with bully

who is pretty chill about it, since he’s bully, though he does miss the sex. the sex was p good.

and, to be quite honest, that’s it. dex wouldn’t fuck any of the baby frogs for the same reason he broke it off with bully (also ngl the senior-freshman thing doesn’t do it for him anymore) and so dex goes through his senior year of college without having any fuckbuddies--his first year of college so far, actually, where he doesn;t

the end

.

.

.

lol jk he and nursey start hooking up and it’s a Whole Bundle of emotions

in keeping with the rest of the fuck buddies, dex thinks that this is just like all the other times and nursey has no reason to think dex wants anything more and like. the sex is good, like very good, and neither of them are complaining per se but they’re also in love and haven’t said anything, and i imagine there are some ill-timed confessions prior to the final game of the playoffs and then they win another ncaa championship title and have sex in a janitor’s closet (but like,, emotional sex) and they live happily (thottily) ever after

i also like to imagine that there’s a point somewhere down the line when they all meet up for a reunion and something happens-- probably ransom and holster get a lil tipsy and finally tell the truth of how they got together-- and everyone basically does the spider-man meme but with “wait-you had sex with dex? i had sex with dex” and nursey--who knows bc dex told him when they finally got together-- is just sitting there all smug with his arm around a steadily reddening dex bc he’s fucking proud of the fact that everyone knows exactly how good his boyfriend is in bed

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Cookies (part 2)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst.

Javi and Reader continue to get to know each other.

Tags: Mention of blood, super vague description of wound care. Additional TW for Javi: the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known.

Word Count: 3,484

A/N: I was NOT expecting the amount of enthusiasm I got for the first chapter, but I’m so grateful for it!! I struggled a little bit with this chapter because it was the only one I didn’t have a solid plan for lol, but here it is because I’m impatient to share (and also tired of looking at it). I promise the next few will be better ;)

Masterlist

---

The next evening, you give yourself a stern pep talk before going to knock on Javier’s door. Javi, you remind yourself. You’re here to check on his leg, assuming he needs you to.

The door swings open much more readily than it had the night before, and Javier appears, an expectant half-smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Neighbor,” he drawls. Despite the new air of informality about him, his eyes hold a familiar suggestion that makes your heart sink a little. Back to his customary flirting, then.

“Hi, Javier,” you say, more coolly than you had originally planned. “I came over to see if you wanted me to check on your leg. I just kind of assumed that you would have the right supplies and stuff when I was giving you instructions last night, but if you don’t I can give you some, change the bandage for you. The first few days of healing are the most critical,” you explain, willing yourself to cut off your own rambling.

He examines your face for a second, the ready welcome fading. “Why do I get the feeling this check-up is more for you than for me?” He hitches an amused eyebrow back up, stepping back to let you in.

Over the threshold you cross your arms. “I don’t know, did you want your secret stab wound to get infected?”

He puts his hand on his hips with the beginning of a disbelieving frown. “It wasn’t a stab,” he grumbles defensively, with all the dignity of a petulant child.

You roll your eyes at his assertive posturing. “I know. I examined it.” Javier doesn’t move, though it couldn’t be comfortable maintaining such a wide-legged stance in those tight jeans. Your lips twitch the slightest bit as you take in your normally composed neighbor, his conflicted moue suggesting he’s been thrown off.

Taking pity on him, you borrow a page from his communication manual, nodding to a chair. “Come on. Pants off,” you deadpan, letting just a hint of your amusement show.

His expression starts out relieved, then cycles through several emotions in the space of the next second (albeit extremely subtly). He seems to freeze momentarily. “Uh, if you’ll just excuse me for one second, I’ll have these off for you in no time.” He winks, which would be charming if it weren’t Javier and he didn’t look like he had forgotten something important, and hastily strides toward the bedrooms.

Mystified, you look around, curious about the man despite his unpredictable demeanor. The apartment looks comfortably lived-in, yet there’s a distinct lack of personal effects, creating an odd contrast. There’s an empty takeout container by the sink, but you aren’t fooled by that- very occasionally, you’ve smelled amazing things coming from this kitchen. You wonder what sparks his culinary inspiration.

A throat clears behind you and you jump. You hadn’t heard Javi return, but there he stands by the dining room table, the fly of his jeans already gaping. He quirks a brow at you. “See anything interesting?” he asks, tipping his head to indicate the apartment. Apparently at ease, he begins to remove his jeans, and you avert your gaze, a flush creeping up your neck.

What? You saw people in all states of nudity every day at the hospital; why should you be flustered now? Annoyed, you busy yourself sorting through supplies while he sits down,

though not before he pulls out a chair for you.

Just like the previous night, he waits until you’re almost finished working to speak. “How did you know I was in pain last night? I didn’t think I made much noise.” His eyes are narrowed, like it’s something that’s been bothering him.

You reflect on your answer before giving it. “You...moved like you were in pain. Slowly, shuffling. And...you made a noise once you closed the door. I heard it, you know, through the wall.” You admit the last part with your eyes down, focusing on adhering tape to his skin.

“Through the wall, huh.” Something in Javier’s husky voice makes you glance up. He looks contemplative, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. He angles his head down toward you. “What else do you hear through the wall?”

You’ve walked into a trap of your own making. Those daring insinuations are back in his eyes, but you can’t escape to your apartment in the middle of changing a bandage. So you answer truthfully: “I hear you cook sometimes. Smell you cook sometimes,” you correct yourself brightly. “What do you make that always smells so good, Javier?” You meet his gaze with deliberate innocence, although you would genuinely like to know.

His expression shutters, and he leans back in the chair again. “Food,” he mutters. “Stuff I learned a long time ago.”

An unexpectedly real answer; you quash the intense curiosity it provokes. Not wanting to pry too much, too soon, you just snicker in response. “Food, huh? I think I’ve heard of that.” His attention snaps back to you, but you just let him brood as you finish with his leg.

This time when you stand, you linger over your supplies, leaving some out for him and explaining things to watch out for. “I’ll come by again tomorrow night, but it should be fine as long as you don’t aggravate it,” you conclude. 

“Well, non-aggravating is my middle name.” Javier gives you a winning smile, one that probably would have passed the muster of anyone who hadn’t heard the mocking edge in his voice.

A laugh sputters out of you. “Is that so? I’ll be sure to tell Connie next time I’m over there.”

Something like fascination sparks in his eyes, a hunger he can’t hide propelling him to lean forward. “Oh? You two ladies talk about me?” 

Your lips purse as your mind races through suitable responses. “Well, I had to get the dirt on my mysterious neighbor from somewhere,” you say lightly. Because it sure wasn’t coming from him. Yet the longer you spent in his company, the more you found you wanted to know.

“Hm.” A huff is his only response. His shoulders relax against the chair back as he returns to regarding you wordlessly, but in a distinctly more agreeable way.

You suppress a smile as you pick up your bag. “Well. Goodnight, Javi.”

--

Almost a week after your last checkup, Javier grinds his cigarette butt into the ground and flicks a last glance at your window. He and Steve had arrived home at the same time, so he’d stalled with the excuse of a smoke outside, knowing that if he entered his own apartment, he’d lose his nerve. Gritting his teeth, he limps up the stairs and to your door. He knocks.

The noise of the tv cuts off, and a moment later, you open the door. You blink in surprise. “Javi! What are you doing here?” Concern clouds your face as you take in his rumpled appearance.

The words lodge in his throat. “I, uh. I need your help,” he admits, dragging his gaze up from the floor. “Banged my leg at work today. Think I opened it up again...thought I should let you take a look at it.” He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction if you found out he hadn’t.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately step back to let him in. “Of course! Please, here-” You offer your arm, but Javier has enough pride this time to make it to your dining room table without help. When he looks up you’ve vanished, dashed off to your stash of medical supplies, he assumes.

He takes the opportunity to look around. Your place is cute, homey-feeling, because of course it is. He notes, however, that most of the decoration has been locally bought, and curiosity needles at him. Nothing more personal to bring with you? He gets a fleeting glimpse of the bottle of wine on the coffee table before you return.

“...sorry about that, I don’t know why I stashed this away so well when I knew you might need it again.” Your setup is a familiar scene by now. You keep glancing over at his blood-stained bandage, frowning worriedly, and he wonders how you can be so damn caring when it’s clear he’s interrupted your evening.

He makes a sound of disgust. “Nah, this was a stupid accident,” he says, annoyed all over again. “Normal, routine chase after some narco, but I slid against a wall that had some shit sticking out of it at just the wrong spot.”

Your eyes leap to his in shock, and too late he remembers that Connie gave you the ‘janitorial services’ line. You don’t ask though, pressing your lips together and determinedly refocusing on peeling off the bandage, and Javi can’t help but feel a twinge of respect.

Well, someone in the building would tell you sooner or later. “I’m an agent of the DEA,” he says, monitoring your reaction. “Since you were about to ask.”

You straighten indignantly. “I was not!” you protest, before you see the lazy gleam in his eye and realize he’s joking. You roll your eyes reproachfully, but the press of your lips now looks amused. “I just thought there was probably a reason Connie didn’t tell me.” Javier winces as you gently prod at his injury.

“Well, what’s one more secret between neighbors?” He winks conspiratorially at you. Just like the last time, however, it gets minimal reaction, and it confounds and intrigues him in equal measure. Women usually respond to his efforts. Even if there’s no real intention, he likes seeing them get a little flustered, likes the feeling of having influence, control. And women don’t seem to mind.

But you...you resisted. Javier doesn’t know why, but you don’t react to his usual charm in the ways he’d come to expect. He’s sure you don’t dislike him- but he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing to make you like him, either. There was something...enticing about it.

The familiar feeling of your fingers smoothing tape along his thigh brings him back to the present. He tries not pay too much attention to it, knowing that it would be extremely asshole timing to pop a boner.

“Well, you should be all set. Again.” You look sympathetic, not resentful, and Javier nods, suddenly feeling awkward. How could he possibly make up all of this up to you?

“Just- try to be careful, okay? You don’t have to hurt yourself as an excuse to hang out with me.” Out of nowhere you’re teasing him, with a line to rival some of his worst. His eyebrows raise, and he chuckles as he dips his head.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gets to his feet. “...Thank you,” he says gruffly, hoping he’s conveying even a tiny amount of how much he means it. “Enjoy your evening.” He doesn’t let himself look back as he heads for the door.

--

Steve and Connie have invited you to a movie night. Or at least, Connie has. You assume the invite comes from both of them, even if a movie night doesn’t seem like something Steve would initiate.

“Javi will be there too,” Connie had informed you nonchalantly, but she watched intently for your reaction.

You hadn’t even blinked. “Great!” you said easily- until you realized the opportunity this presented and beamed. “What should I make?”

Which is how you end up standing outside her door, one floor up, holding a plate of cookies. You were glad now that you decided to make them today and not yesterday- finishing them barely 20 minutes ago had effectively given you no time to tailspin about what to wear or how you were supposed to act around Javi. Or rather, Javi and Steve and Connie, since although you and Javi had a secret, it was not what they’d imagine it to be.

Connie answers the door, and that’s definitely not a twinge of disappointment you feel, because why would Javier have answered the door of someone else’s house?

“Hey, come in!” Connie gushes. She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully at the plate in your hands. “What are those, and what are you drinking with them?”

Her easy familiarity grounds you. “Whatever you’ve got,” you reply, some of your nerves settling. Your friend leads you to the kitchen, where Steve and Javi stand continuing some conversation at the bar counter.

“The party has arrived, boys!” She announces. “I told you all that smell was for us.” She winks at you, a bottle already in hand to pour you a drink.

“Welcome, welcome,” Steve greets in his easygoing way, gesturing with his beer to encompass the apartment as a whole.

You smile in thanks, your eyes flitting briefly to Javier. He hasn’t said anything yet, but there’s a loose relaxation to him you haven’t seen before, a softness playing on his lips as he absorbs the scene. It’s similar, you realize, to the moment when he complimented your lemon cake, the first time you felt like you were meeting the real him.

This observation only takes a heartbeat to sink in. Tucking it away to examine later, you shyly lift the plate and set it in the middle of everyone. “She‘s right,” you confirm, peeling off the plastic wrap. “Peanut butter cookies.” The next few seconds are spent in an expectant semi-quiet as everyone takes a cookie and savors the first bite.

“Mmm,” someone sighs, and the dam breaks. A flurry of compliments all around, new threads of conversation bursting forth. You absorb it gratefully, relieved at their enthusiastic response and happy to have been able to contribute. You try not to react to Javier’s eyes on you.

The ice broken, you all chat and drink around the bar for a bit, before Connie declares that it’s movie time, leading everyone to the living room. Before following them, Javier grabs the plate of cookies. “We’ll just take these with us,” he says decisively, and you take it as a compliment.

It’s the first time he’s addressed you directly since you arrived, and there’s a knowing glint in his eye. “By all means,” you respond pleasantly, meeting his gaze. Taking your tenuous first step in sharing the establishment of a public-facing persona to your relationship (such that it is).

In your delay, Connie and Steve appear to have gotten into a hissed discussion, standing between the couch and the loveseat. Connie whirls around as you and Javi approach, fixing a smile to her face. She waves you over to the smaller sofa. “Come on, we get to snuggle up on the loveseat, so the big men have more room to spread out.” She aims a cool faux-glare at her husband, but a glimmer of real frustration prevents it from being believably fake.

Steve sends Javi a long-suffering, apologetic look. “Sounds cozy,” you chirp, mediating before anyone else can say anything. “So what are we watching?”

At this, Steve’s face lights up with a grin that almost makes you wary. He takes great delight in announcing the selection, some military action flick with “enough drama and hunky actors to keep the ladies entertained as well,” apparently.

“A true classic.” Javier nods sagely from his sprawled seat on the couch, his smirking grin suggesting that it was not at all true. Steve kneels to put the tape in, and as he and Javi continue to snigger over it, Javi shoots a self-conscious glance in your direction, his posture shifting.

Connie sighs. “They’ve done a few of these now. I should warn you that it’s less about watching the movie than it is about bonding over making fun of it,” she confides.

You keep the two men in the corner of your vision as you turn to reply to your friend, feeling warm with gratitude at being included. “That’s okay,” you assure her. “It’s a good bonding activity.”

Connie smiles, but seems distracted. She lowers her voice to speak again. “I should also tell you that they make fun of it because they know how government/military stuff really works. From their job at the embassy.” She seems unsure if she should say any more.

“Oh!” You realize that Connie has no way of knowing about your conversations with Javi. “I know. I mean, Javier told me. What they do.” 

Connie looks amazed. “Javier told you? When?” Her voice drops to just above a whisper.

“Recently,” you hedge. “I was, um, helping him with something, and it slipped out.” No point in getting him in trouble. 

Connie looks ready to burst, but before she can say anything the tv blares, and Steve pointedly declares that it’s starting.

You settle in for the mock-fest, and sure enough, the men don’t disappoint. It’s hard to follow what’s actually going on through their exasperated groaning, but you don’t mind. Their back-and-forth is just as entertaining, and you even manage to join in occasionally during the medical scenes.

Throughout it all, you surreptitiously watch Javier. His opening up is a slow-building thing, like he can’t decide how much of himself to reveal. He steals frequent glances at you, as if trying to judge what you’re thinking of him in this new context. But he can’t pretend to be his usual lascivious self in front of Steve and Connie, and all at once he seems to decide to just be, and damned if you don’t like it.

You don’t let on that you’ve been paying such attention, only teasing and acting like you normally would around friends. But you can’t help but respond to the way Javi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles; to the hard-won sound of his laugh, sending pleasant tingles down your spine. With other things for him to focus on besides you, you’re able to observe him more freely, noticing things you hadn’t before.

When the movie finally ends, you and Javier stand to leave, managing to only after Connie extracts ironclad promises from the both of you to do this again. The tentative banter you’d fallen into in the apartment carries you down the stairs; it felt rather like you were still creating the steps to a dance in which you weren’t quite sure if you were competitors or partners.

He walks you to your door. “It’s like eight steps down the hall, Javier.” It’s sweet, despite your objection.

“A lot can happen in eight steps,” he counters, undeterred.

At the door, he murmurs your name. You look at him in surprise when he takes your hand, even as your body sings from the warmth of his attention. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you for all your help yet.” He brings your hand to his mouth and presses his lips to your skin. Softly, lingering. “Properly, that is.” In his hooded eyes is a brazen offer.

His mustache brushes more softly than you would have thought, and your mind immediately leaps to imagine what it would feel like against your mouth. Heat flares within you at the thought, but you pull your hand free and step back from him. You can see his thoughts slow, reorganize at your retreat.

“You don’t have to thank me with sex, Javier.” It would be lying to say you hadn’t considered this possibility; you place each word with care, knowing that any future relationship you might have with Javier would depend on his response to this conversation. “I didn’t help you as an excuse to sleep with you.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in sex with him, exactly. The truth was...you didn’t want to be done with him yet. You wanted to learn more about him, uncover all the little things that made him him behind the gruff armor. But if you agreed to be seduced by him tonight, it would send the opposite message. That all he had been to you was a debt that was now paid.

Javier looks befuddled, the furrow in his brow deepening as his listens. Your next words come out sounding more practiced. “If that’s all you want from me then fine, but...friendship is good too, you know? Friends are a thing people have.” Your gaze drops briefly, a flicker of embarrassment overtaking you. But you’re determined to make him understand that this isn’t a blanket rejection.

His expression turns frustratingly inscrutable as he digests this. “Right.” Slowly he nods, shifting away from your door.

“Just- think about what I said, Javi. Okay?” No pity in your voice, only a soft, steady plea.

Javier continues to nod as he backs away. “Sure,” he replies, step by step, toward his own home. “Buenas noches, Vecina.” Good night, Neighbor.

In a twisted reversal of your usual roles, you watch him walk the length of the hall. A contemplative saunter, hands sliding into his pockets to retrieve a cigarette.

You can only hope you said the right thing.

---

A/N: In the first scene, Javi left the room to go put on underwear lmao.

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin​, @thirstworldproblemss​ 

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

[jilyesplz]

I'd love directors thoughts on -

“You don’t care what anyone thinks of you. You’re funny—you always have been, even when it drove me nuts to think it...you’re the most loyal person I…”

She saw the instant he realized she was crying. She felt it when he reached for her, hand trembling before she shoved it away. She heard it in the way his voice hitched, in the desperation that laced between the cracks in his anger when he said, “I don’t know what that means.”

Whew ok toughies…below the cut :)

So I have a lot to say on quote 1 that I want to wait on, but for now….I pulled these compliments from Lily’s keepdown letter + Jules’s in-character asks, because I wanted them to be things that i knew TLAT Lily loved, as well as just being true. Yeah, she doesn’t want to do this, but she’s Lily, so if she sets out to compliment someone she’s not gonna half-ass it. But I also wanted them to feel a little disjointed, a little less-than, just not quite getting at The James Potter Phenomenon, because this isn’t a moment of real intimacy, it’s manufactured by this woman whose philosophy about human relationships is really, really different than Jily’s.

Re #2…Double whew. 

Okay, so I really really really wanted the hate me/like me Jules snippet in this chapter, because it (and the SWM snippet, but that’s in 3) were the reason I decided to give them this fight (also because I’d never written a real jily fight before! How’d I do lol) but for a long time I thought it wouldn’t work because (1) either James had to think she hated him, which seems super unbelievable with their characters, or he’d pretty much have to figure out she had feelings, and that wasn’t how I wanted that to happen; and (2) I just couldn’t see a world where TLAT James could react that cavalierly to Lily crying (and presumably to making Lily cry). This solution came out of trawling Jules’s in-character blog answers at 4 am lmfao—it kept standing out to me in J’s answers that when he calls Lily insane, what he means is that he doesn’t understand her, and it drives him absolutely spare (and turns him on so fucking much) because he’s a genius. He understands everyone.

On that note, the fight was originally going to dig a lot deeper into James’s frustration/bafflement/hurt over why Lily didn’t tell him about Carlotta rigging the thing. My personal fav of the bits that ended up on the cutting room floor came out of that:

“But I told you to chuck Harper!”

“I’m not like you, James. I can’t just…do what I want to do.”

“What I—what I want to?!” His hands clenched on nothing. His eyes raked over her face. “I never do what I want to!”

But I digress. The point is, James is so used to not understanding her, he’s so convinced that Occam’s Razor doesn’t ever work with Lily and she’s completely incomprehensible to him, that it just doesn’t occur to him to use process of elimination to say ‘well, since I have months and months of friendship to go on and also she’s Lily and she doesn’t hate anyone, ipso facto she must like me.’

Also, in his defense, he didn’t know she was crying, or even really that she was hurt, until she turns around and looks up at him and he’s hit in the gut with Big Bad Emotions (on top of his existing Big Bad Emotions and very inconvenient arousal) that don’t make logical thinking any easier. Her tears make him horribly sad, because he hurts when she hurts, and angry, because Lily in pain makes James want to tear castles to the ground, and desperate, because he doesn’t know what he did wrong, because he has never understood (because Lily has never admitted) how much power he has to hurt her. Which, for the record, goes both ways. 

[mtherhino]

One side, two lives

Chapter twelve

You should be thanking me

First Previous Next

Warnings: talk of anorexia, self hatred, lot of swearing, swords, a bit of blood and general angst

Virgil yawned as he walked out of his room. He had finished beating Remus in super Mario carts a while ago and had decided to take a nap. As soon as he left his room his anxiety shot up. The former dark sidegriped his chest and leaned against the hallway wall to keep from falling down. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down and not hyperventilate.  

Once he calmed himself down enough to actually stand he started walking to the living room. He saw Patton sitting on the couch looking upset and Logan sitting at the dining table with annoyance written all over his face. Virgil didn’t know what to do. He had never been that great at comforting people and he didn’t even know what happened in the first place.

The former dark side looked back over at Patton again who was mumbling to himself and had a fairway look as he stared at the floor.  Virgil couldn’t make out what he was saying but he heard the words “right “ and “wrong” a few times. In the end Virgil decided it would be better to try to talk to Logan rather than Patton, at least that way he couldn’t  figure out what happened to make everyone upset and Thomas’s anxiety spike so suddenly.

The  anxious side walked over the table and sat down. Logan looked up and Virgil gave him a confused look, the meaning was pretty clear, ‘what the hell happened?’ The logical side sighed and put down his book. He explained everything that happened during and after the wedding, making sure to keep his voice down the whole time. Although he tried to tell the story without any biases a bit of annoyance and anger slipped into his voice when he told Virgil about the others skipping over what he had to say.

When he finished his explanation Virgil didn’t know how to feel. He knew it was wrong what Roman had said to Deceit, even if he does hate the despicable snake, and he defiantly needs to apologies, but that doesn’t excuse the others behavior. Roman was trying to do what he thought was right, though his decisions may have been pretty bad he wasn’t trying to make all this shit happen, plus’s all of them had decided that Thomas would go to the wedding. Not only that but they all should have listened to Logan sooner, maybe they couldn’t have avoided some of this.

Not being able to think of anything to really say the purple clad side sighed tiredly. Logan nodded in agreement.

“That’s, that’s defiantly not good, any of it. I’m sorry you were talked over, I should have been there –“. Before he could finish his sentence Virgil was cut off.

“I mean no offense by this but I think it was a good thing you weren’t there. There was enough chaos as it was having anyone more there would have just added to it.”

           Virgil went to argue but stoped himself. He knew deep down that Logan was right but that didn’t make the feeling of guilt and fear that was rooted in his mind go away.

“Thanks Logan. Now that I have all the fact I think I’ll go talk to Patton about all this. This was really helpful.” Logan smiled a little at the praise as Virgil went to talk to the father figure of the mind scape.

           Virgil sat down on the other side of the couch from Patton who still had a faraway look in his eyes. The anxious side’s eyes softened, the description of Pattons panic attack didn’t sound good, and he wasn’t even there for it to see how bad it really was.

“Hey Pat.” The moral side looked up when he heard his name and seemed to be surprised to see Virgil next to him. Once he realizes it though he quickly put on a clearly strained d smile and sat up a bit more, putting on his “cheery” attitude.

“Oh hey kiddo! I didn’t hear you come in! What’s up?” Patton said with a smile. Virgil continued to look at the fatherly side with a sad expression.

“I heard about what happened today.”  Patton’s smile faded into a look that wasn’t quite readable until it was replaced with a much sadder smile.

“I see. I’m sorry if we caused you any stress kiddo. Me and the others just had a…. disagreement on what was the right thing to do.” Patton tried to explain.

           Virgil hummed and offered Patton a side hug. The moral side leaned into the hug and Virgil tried to comfort him. Just as the anxious side was about to say something all three light sides heard running coming from the hallway. The yellow clad dark side stoped in the entrance of the hallway, distress written on his face. Patton stood up and quickly walked over to deceit Janus.

“Janus whats wrong?”

“I most certainly wouldn’t like to know if any of you have seen Remus. I definitely “can” find him in the dark side of the mindscape.” The lying side said, worry dripping form his words.

           Logan’s head shot up when he heard that, finally putting down his book and walking over to Janus, a concerned look on his face. It slightly surprised Virgil how worried the logical side looked, usually he showed as little emotion as he could.

“No I haven’t even seen him today, which is odd.” The logical side mumbled out the last part, confusing the others in the room. “Are you sure he isn’t in the imagination?” Logan said with a concerned frown.

           The deceitful side shook his head.

“He “wouldn’t” have told me if he was going.” Janus said with sad and slightly guilty eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure why they held guilt in them but he decided it was about time he joined the conversation.

“I was playing Mario cart with him earlier today but that was at least two hours ago.” The anxious side said as he stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets, not liking the fact that the others where now looking at him. “He was acting like his normal Remus self at the time so I don’t know what could be wrong.”

The sides took a minute to ponder what could have happened. Out of know where a dark and ominous aura took over the room. Janus summoned his cane as soon as he felt it and the other prepared themselves for whatever was too come. Virgil watched in awe and horror as the room changed around them.

The warm tan colors on the wall shifted into a dark grey that had bits of gold speckling the color. The curtains became long and changed into a blood red velvet fabric. Almost everything in the room took on sharp twisting edges that looked like they could belong in a castle. Lastly a throne materialize from the ground at the back wall of the  room, the perfect place to survey everything. The throne was a dark black that seems to soak up any light that touched it. The back and seat had some maroon red cushioning, gold tipped the edges of every spike, as well as right above where the head would be if someone where to sit down in the mighty chair. The room finally settled and it looked a lot more like a throne room then a living room. The sides took a minute to take in the now slightly unsettling features to the mindscape before a voice spoke up from behind them.

“Much better. The whole room was so bland, not at all befitting of a king.” An oddly familiar voice said. All the sides turned quickly to where the voice was coming form and saw a figure emerge from a cloud of mist. The figure, the side, had his head bowed so that they couldn’t see his face. Janus stepped in front with his cane in a defensive position ready to protect the others. Virgil tried to focus more on the new side and saw that had he had a golden cape trailing behind him as well as a glowing sword that he held in front of him like a cane, ready to be used if the need arises.

Virgil gasped a little and took a step back, making the others even more nervous then they already where. The reasons for the anxious sides actions where because he recognized this person in front of him. It’s him. The one I saw in my dreams, the one that kil-, Virgil shook his head trying not to think about that part of his dream. But how is this guy here? How is he even real?!

Janus was the first to say something as he raised his cane at the stranger.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” The snake like side hissed out, sounding a lot braver than he actually felt. The royal side laughed, a cruel and cold sound that made the other sides, light and dark,  stiffened. The figure raised his head and the group group gasp lightly. Because there staring right at them with the most evil look any of them had ever seen, was their friend and prince, Roman.

           Virgil was the first to speak this time.

“Roman? It that you?” The anxious side said with tears in his eyes as he took a small step forward, only for Janus to hold out an arm stopping him. Although the sides where all just aspects of Thomas, they each had little differences about there faces that made it easier to distinguish who was who, no one side could look exactly like another, not even Janus. However there stood someone that looked exactly like the creative side they all knew and cared for, all except for the side’s red and golden eyes. The side also had a black streak in his otherwise brown hair. The Roman- look-alike side barked a harsh laugh at the smaller side’s words.

           “You think I’m that pathetic excuse for a side? Your idiotic prince? Well thankfully for all of you, I’m not.” The side said with a smile. Virgil growled and was about to speak up in Roman’s defense before Logan covered his mouth. The now angry purple side turned to the logical one of the group and glared. The taller side shook his head and mouthed the words ‘just wait’, his eyes giving away that he was more than a little weary about the situation. It took a minute but Virgil eventually nodded and Logan let him go hesitantly, both turning back to the new side.

           “If I may, if your not Roman as you say, who are you?” Logan spoke up boldly. A smirk formed on the red eyed side’s farce.

“Well, Logan, I’m something a thousand times better than that stupid prince.” The side took a step forward, his word dragging behind him, while the others stepped back. “Im the most powerful side you’ll ever meet,” another step, “the true king of the imagination,” another step, the others backs hit the wall.

“And most importantly of all,” the side swung the sword forward so that it was now at Janus’s throat.

           “The new king of the mindscape.” His smile was wide and his eyes glowed a dangerous gold.

                                   “I am Pride.”

           Janus glared at the person in front of him.

“That’s impossible, Roman holds the roll of pride. He’s literally Thomas’s Ego.” The dark side said. Pride growled in anger and Janus had to admit, he was tempted to take a step back. Still the yellow clad side had to hold his ground, besides, there was nowhere to go.

“Maybe he was at one point, but for quite a while now, even while imprisoned, the roll of pride has belonged to me.” The side smiled. “Roman hasn’t done a great job of filling in for my job so I decided to come back. That fool could never do anything right, don’t you agree?” When pride said does words he looked directly at both Patton and Janus. Janus only glared at the side more, but Patton wrapped his arms around himself, lowering his head in shame and guilt. The king’s smile only grew as he saw the effect his words had on the sides.

“What do you mean it was his roll?” Virgil said while he tried to stop himself from punching the man, though he wasn’t able to stop his glare.

“Why its quite simple really.” Pride said with what would be called a charming smile if it wasn’t so sinister. “You see when creativity was split into Roman and Remus, it wasn’t quite the clean cut everyone hoped for.” Patton only cowered more as the king spoke. “Remus wasn’t pure evil and Roman wasn’t pure good. Remus not only represents intrusive thoughts but also embodies self confrontation, which can help Thomas, where as Roman is not only Thomas’s hopes and dreams, but his pride and ego which where always considered as bad things.” Pride was frowning as he spoke about what he represented being something evil.  

“That’s what Thomas and Roman where always told. That being prideful lead to selfishness and only thinking about yourself. It wasn’t long before Roman, who was still a child, started to hate this side of himself and kept thinking that if one part about him was wrong then he must be a bad person. I honestly don’t know where he could have gotten such black and white thinking from.” As Pride said this he glared at Patton, making the moral side tremble. Janus stepped between his gaze and glared right back at him. Pried rolled his eyes and continued, his sword now lowered.

“As Roman grew up his self hatred never stopped, and slowly but surely, he started to break.” The others eyes widened as they started to catch on to what pride was getting at. Pride smiled at the fear that was present in all there faces.

“Remus had tried to help his brother but to no avail, and one day, Roman couldn’t have been more than 13 years old, the young prince ran as far as he could into the imagination as voices screamed at him in his head, Remus chafed after him. The  brothers ran all the way to the tallest mountain in the imagination, the land had shifted around them to make it easier for them. When Remus had finally caught up to his brother he found Roman crying in pain and with cracks of gold littering his skin. And before he knew it, Remus wasn’t looking at just his brother, but another entirely knew side.”Pride grinned as horror made its way onto all the sides faces. This is what he wanted, for them to see what their actions cost him.

“Roman had willingly tried to split himself again to make all of you happy, except this split didn’t turn out as well as the first. There just wasn’t enough to make two whole sides from an already split creativity. Since I was only a fraction of what he represented Roman stayed himself while I became something, new. So me and Roman where still connected afterwards, the only thing was that only one of us could exist in the mindscape.” Pride frowned at the floor as his memories darkened.

“I was the first to realize it, so of course I tried to kill him. If only one of us could exist, then it was going to be me.” The king’s frowned turned into a glare and his voice became harsher. “Roman caught on quick and started to fight me, Remus was still on the sidelines not knowing what to do and who to help. I’ll admit I wasn’t the brightest back then. While we fought I yelled at Roman about how everyone was going to pay for what they did to me.” The king shrugged, but the movement held much more anger then he thought it would.

“I would say I was right to be angry. I mean I was only created to be thrown away. Unlike Remus there wasn’t anything good that I represented. I was just the thing that everyone hated and wanted to get rid of, the thing everyone despised.” Pride turned his glare to the sides, all of them looking regretful as they found out about what their actions had caused. Good, Pride thought, they deserve to feel like shit after what they’ve done.

“ I would have won the fight if Roman and Remus hadn’t cheated. After hearing what I had said Remus had decided to help out Roman. After a while they finally beat me and my form started to disappear. They both that I was just too unstable, that I died and Roman just got his flaws back. And that’s how it stayed until recently.” The sides took a minute to take in the information.

“Wh-what happened that, that made you come back?” Patton asked, still not being able to look at Pride. Pride grinned, a mixture of joy, anger and satisfaction in his eyes.

“Well when Roman sacrificed what could have been Thomas’s big break his confidence was shattered, and since he became weaker, I finally grew strong enough to speak to him.” Patton’s eyes grew wide. Im the one that said we should go to the wedding. I’m the reason pride came back? I’m the reason where in this mess? Patton thought to himself.

“After that I helped to lower his ego and pride bit by bit, though it wasn’t very hard. I only told him things he already thought about himself. Plus Thomas was feeling so disheartened that Roman literally got sick! Ha! Honestly even if I never said a word to him I’m certain that his depression and self loathing would have done my job for me.” Pride said, chuckling a little at how simple it had all been.

Virgil felt nothing but white hot anger and sadness for his prince. This scumbag had been making Roman feel worse about himself than he already did and he took joy in it?! What kind of selfish bastard does that?! This time it took both Logan and Janus acting quickly to stop Virgil from charging and punching the royal side in the face.Pride turned to the enraged side and smiled.

“And that’s not even the worst of it. Before I even came back Roman was already suffering. He had horrible insomnia because he was worried about disappointing others by not getting his work done. And not to mention his eating disorder.” The other sides turned to Pride in confusing, except or Virgil, he simply looked broken as Pride confirmed his suspicions.

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know? Roman had terrible anorexia, he could barely stomach eating half the time, if he could get away with it he would skip put on eating for days. He hated how he looked and even shape shifted in front of others to make himself look skinnier.” The king smiled at the horror and sadness that was painted on the sides faces. “Once he even said to me that he only ate because he didn’t want to pass out and not finish his work. He didn’t want to dissappoint everyone.”

Pride laughed distracting the others from their thoughts.

“Today just turned out to be the last straw for him. After trying his whole life to be good and be what other people wanted him to be, being called the evil twin broke him. His only purpose in life was to be Thomas’s hero and now he wasn’t even that.” Janus dropped his cane when he heard that. He knew after the video ended that he went too far and that he needed to apologize to Roman but… he hadn’t meant to hurt him like that. A thud was heard form behind him and when the dark side turned he saw that Patton had fallen to his knees, tears pouring down his face.

           Pride ignored the fallen side and kept talking, wanting the other sides to hurt as much as possible.

“Once again Roman ran away into the imagination, except this time no one followed him. On accident he found himself right where it all began. He felt horrible for what he said to Janus and didn’t think anyone would ever forgive him. In the end Roman wished that he could disappear, spare everyone from his mistakes, so I helped make that wish come true. Your prince gave up, so I came back.”

The others let the words sink in. They had broken the prince so much he had wanted to just go away so that they would be ok. All of them had tears in there eyes at this point. Virgil did his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Where is he then. Where’s Roman, and Remus too for that matter.” Pride smiled and the room seemed to grow colder. “Honestly you should be thanking me that I got rid of those idiotic twins for you.” For a moment it seemed like time stoped. There was only silence. Then Virgil let out a cry of rage and charged at Pride. Logan didn’t hold him back this time, instead he charged with him, both of their eyes overflowing with tears.  

           Pride seemed unconcerned with the two enraged sides charging at him. He simply swept his hand to left and the whole room rotated, sending the two light sides crashing into the wall. Virgil groaned as he turned around and leaned against the wall. His noes was bleeding and he was fairly sure that he broke it. He looked over at Logan to see the logical side rubbing his head and with his glasses on the floor next to him, now broken in two. Before they could stand up a glowing sword was pointed at their faces.

“Just give up. Your friends are gone, and there never coming back.”

Wow it’s been a while. Sorry iv been gone for so long guys, school just started up again and it been hard trying to find time to just sit down and write. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this slightly longer than average chapter, I tried to put all the angst in it I could. I hope that your all on the edge of your seat waiting to find out what happens next. Well I’m going to go die now, have a good week humans, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

[melissachan]

Un(reality) for two

AO3 link

Summary:

All Nagito Komaeda really wanted was to be understood. Hajime Hinata tried to grant this wish.

…or Danganronpa 2, but Hajime is 20% less tsundere 20% more smart and 100% more cool.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:M/M

Fandoms: Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types

Relationship: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Characters: Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime

Main Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships

TWs: self-harm, suicide and suicidal ideations, threats of violence, canon-typical violence, canon-typical Komaeda

Language: English

Wordcount: 14173

Status: Completed

Chapter 1: Destination Hope

“Hey.”

Hajime’s voice was very sudden, enough to make Nagito flinch a little. The beach was peaceful, the sound of the waves coming up and down was calming, and nobody usually came here – a perfect place for a trash like him to sit without bothering anyone. The soft sand probably made Hajime’s steps too quiet for him to notice. Not that Nagito minded it too much – if some of the others just came from behind and put a rope against his neck, or hit him with something heavy, or plunged a knife into his back, it would have been fine, but he’d still rather prefer them to consult him first.

“Ah, Hajime. Hello there,” he answered, waving his hand, his smile cheerful as always. Hajime’s expression was bleak. It didn’t seem like he slept much, and it made Nagito wonder what was keeping him awake. He had no idea what was such a big deal, but something on the back of his mind told him that it probably was his very own behavior, and this evoked a weak pang of guilt… It didn’t matter, though. It all was necessary for Hajime’s hope to shine brighter, someday he will understand. “What are you doing here? You don’t seem like a person who likes to take random beach walks, and I got a feeling it’s not that pleasant for you to see my face either,” he said, looking at Hajime curiously, his smile staying the same as the other boy came closer.

“There is something… that keeps bothering me since… since the last trial,” Hajime answered, looking unsure, trying to avoid eye contact. His voice was tense, even more tense than when it was there in the trial room, that damned day when Byakuya Togami’s and Teruteru Hanamura’s portraits became crossed out forever. Nagito was ready to join them, as ready as ever; he was always eager to become the last in the list of his many, many victims… But Hajime didn’t seem to be here to take up his offer, so he tilted his head questioningly.

“Aw, what a shame, I almost thought you came to discuss your brilliant murder plan with me,” Nagito sighed, making Hajime’s face go red as he furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips. No wonder he’s so angry, Nagito thought. It was way, way too arrogant of him to think someone with such a bright hope inside him would need any help from a useless, incompetent idiot like himself. “So, what is it?” he asked, smiling all the same.

“Just… just what the hell were you trying to do there in the dining hall?” Hajime suddenly blurted out, probably a bit louder than he intended. Accompanying his words, he kicked the sand underneath his foot, making countless grains go up and land on his shoes and clothes, picked up by the soft, warm tropical wind, too calm, too peaceful for this cursed island.

“Huh? Didn’t you figure it all out in the trial? I was going to stab someone with that knife, but alas, Teruteru and Byakuya stopped me,” Nagito answered, shrugging, continuing to smile friendlily, but it seemed to make every muscle on Hajime’s face go even more tense.

“So you were going to stab someone. With the glowing knife. In the complete darkness,” he spoke after a short pause, seeming to take a bit of time to calm down.

“Yes, exactly! Amazing, Hajime. Is your real talent the Ultimate Analyst?” Nagito exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to sound natural. He tried to think of something reasonable to say, but every option seemed to make the truth even more clear so he just smiled, hoping Hajime would drop it.

“You were trying to get yourself killed,” Hajime spoke, now sounding calm, almost… cold. The confidence in his voice, the one that made it clear he was stating it, not asking, made every bit of Nagito’s hope to avoid this talk shatter at once. Hajime now was looking into his eyes, with a weird mix of anger and… guilt? “Your weird behavior as you were on the cleaning duty. Telling Teruteru your plan. Mentioning the floorboards, planting the glowing paint, it was all a part of it,” he continued, clenching his fist – and his every word felt like a punch, piercing a piece of armor. “Am I right?” anger returned in his intonation, making Nagito take a step back.

“And what if… you are right?” he asked, looking at the sand underneath him. Hajime came closer and stood by, putting his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. He shook him, gently, but enough to make him lift his head up. Every trace of anger disappeared – now he looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“Why?” Hajime asked quietly, clenching his shoulders tightly, almost painfully. For some reason, it felt weirdly comforting – another human nearby, slightly warm, breathing, so close…

“I… I thought I explained it all already,” Nagito answered, still keeping up his cheerfulness, as if it was enough to wash away all the worries, to rebuild the lost defense. “From all of you guys, from all the shining symbols of hope… My life is the least valuable. The world needs you, and this is why I am willing to die if it means someone, anyone, leaves this damned place,” he explained, his smile going wider, his tone becoming too weird and too forceful and too sinister – he knew he should stop it, he knew everyone hated it, but he couldn’t do anything about it anymore, now absorbed into his own words. “Nobody would care if I’m gone. Nobody would miss me, or mourn me. There is no way for me to have any value except for being your stepping stone” – he spread his hands widely, making Hajime take a step back.

“Why?” the other boy asked, very quietly, and for some reason it made Nagito stop, now looking at him in confusion. “Why would you say such a thing?” Hajime yelled at him, indecisive to come closer again, tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Huh? Am I wrong?” he asked, trying to ignore the waves of guilt spreading through his mind. Not only was he useless trash, a person with a fake talent, Hope’s Peak Academy’s mistake… but now they all also hated him… right?

“Yes you are!” – the answer was clear, clear enough to make Nagito flinch. “I… I would’ve been sad” – it seemed like Hajime was trying not to yell, but his efforts didn’t do much good. Nagito gulped, the feeling of uneasiness becoming too hard to ignore. “You… Well, honestly, you’re a weirdo!” – he looked like a puppy robbed of a treat. “But… the kind boy who was with me when I was feeling scared and confused… The one who made me feel calm and peaceful… The one who wanted to investigate the island with me, it was also you, right?!” – Hajime stared at him, as if looking for an answer, but Nagito couldn’t find the words.

“I’m not sure… Was that person even real? Or is this person before me real? I just want to understand!” – Hajime was now crying, not even bothering to try to hide it. “And if you died, I would never know… No, that’s not it…even without this… I don’t want you, or anyone else, to die,” he finished, now breathing heavily from talking too much, his cheeks red from both tears and anger. Nagito still couldn’t find any words, or any right way to react, as if the whirlwind of emotions in his head stole his very voice…

And for some reason, at the very back of his mind, behind all the guilt, there was a wrong, sickening feeling of happiness.

“I give up. Going to my cottage now… Feel free to come if you ever want to explain yourself,” Hajime spoke after a long pause, now seeming to calm down. His breathing was still heavy, and despite the soft, warm tropical sun, the look on his face made Nagito feel cold. Not waiting for the answer, he turned back, and began to walk away slowly.

“But those kinds of talks… are exactly why I didn’t want anyone to figure out,” Nagito said quietly, sounding a bit colder than he intended. Hajime turned his head to him. For a short moment he looked like he was about to return and… do something. Start another talk, perhaps. Slap him, probably. But he didn’t, and very soon his silhouette fuzzed and disappeared in the distance.

Chapter 2: Sea and Punishment, Sin and Mahiru's Tasty Toast That Finally Gets Eaten

Lying on the floor without motion for so long was not the most pleasant feeling.

Nagito tried to move, to wriggle with his whole body, to change his position even for a bit. Not to free himself – he knew it was useless, and if not one, but two of the shiny, worthy Ultimates decided he’d be better off that way, who is he to argue – but to make his arms and legs feel a little less numb. Of course, he would deal with bruises and abrasions with no problems, but if it got too bad, he would become even more useless than he was now, tied up and unable to help anyone even a little, and he didn’t want such a perfectly fine stepping stone go to waste.

His stomach ached, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for… how long? Nagito had absolutely no idea, since the metal plates on the windows stopped him from seeing the daylight, but judging from the amount of sleep he got, it was about two or three days. In any case, he really, really regretted not trying any of the food Teruteru made – it all looked so good that even remembering it made his stomach growl even more pitifully.

He almost thought he shouldn’t have told Mahiru to go away and make him a better breakfast either. Almost. The hunger was unbearable, and actually seeing and smelling that hot pot of freshly cooked rice made him want to cry, but the thought of letting someone like her, a person with such a strong personality and such an ability to make everyone smile, touch his ugly, disgusting mouth was worse.

The door opened, making Nagito lift up his head a bit. He smiled – no matter how much discomfort he experienced, he shouldn’t make anyone worry about him. To his surprise, the person who came in wasn’t Mahiru Koizumi this time. It was… Hajime Hinata, holding a plate with toast and a glass of milk, along with two small packages of butter and honey. It was such simple food, but even looking at it made him want to drool. He couldn’t let that happen though, so instead he decided to greet his guest, distracting himself a bit.

“Oh, Hajime! Hello there!” he exclaimed, his voice sounding perhaps a bit too cheerful, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, looking at him with the same annoyed expression as always. “Sorry for making someone as great as you look at something so pathetic and unworthy of your attention. Seems like Mahiru sent you to feed me, what great luck I have today,” he continued after understanding Hajime wasn’t going to answer. He sighed, coming closer to Nagito, the plate still in his hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for making an embodiment of hope do such a thing, dirtying their wonderful hands made for spreading hope by touching someone like me, but it seems necessary so those who left me here won’t get executed,” he said, talking a bit faster than he wanted to, as his eyes latched onto the toast. Food, he just wanted to finally get some food, just a natural need of the human body. The sudden easiness he felt definitely had nothing to do with the fact that of being touched by Hajime didn’t seem that bad at all…

“Or maybe you played that game Mahiru told me about and now came to kill me?” Nagito asked, making Hajime groan. “See, I wouldn’t mind it at all! I’d say I wouldn’t mind just dropping dead at any second, but dying such a meaningless death when there’s so many wonderful opportunities to strengthen everyone’s hope would’ve been a bit sad, so I thi–” – Hajime leaned down and put the plate on the floor with enough force to make the milk splatter, Nagito’s words drowning in the loud clang that followed.

“Seriously, what the heck is wrong with you? Cut it out!” Hajime said, the anger clear in his tone. “I’m just going to finish this quickly and go do something more useful, I got no time for listening to that nonsense,” he sighed. To Nagito’s surprise, he didn’t reach for the toast or the milk, leaning over him instead. The next second he felt how the rope fell off, freeing his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused, as Hajime continued to untie his arms. A feeling of relaxation suddenly spread through his body as it was no longer restrained, making him turn on his side, taking a more comfortable position.

“Freeing you, of course,” Hajime said with the same hint of annoyance in his voice. “And don’t get me wrong, I won’t let you actually roam freely. I just asked Monomi to give me the key to this room, so I’ll just lock you up,” he added as Nagito crawled to the wall, now taking a sitting position. His whole body ached and it was difficult to move, but the comfort it brought made him forget about the hunger, at least until his eyes latched onto the toast again.

“I mean, I can feed you, but like… You need to move, right? Bedsores and atrophied muscles are not the funnest things to deal with,” Hajime said, almost like he was trying to convince himself it was a good idea. “Besides, keeping you like this is just… unnecessarily cruel” – Nagito couldn’t answer, now stuffing the toast into his mouth with greed he wasn’t expecting of himself. “I also figured that you’d get bored, so I brought… this” – Hajime held out his hand, giving him a small colorful device with a set of buttons at each side. “That’s a video game console. I got like half a dozen of those from the MonoMono Yachine,” he explained, looking a bit awkward.

“Wow! Not only coming here to feed someone like me, but actually being worried about the well-being of someone so lowly and worthless? You’re not only the Ultimate Serenity, you’re also the Ultimate Compassion!” Nagito exclaimed, making Hajime groan again. He looked at the device, feeling… weird. He knew he didn’t deserve it, he knew he made Hajime waste the time and effort instead of doing something useful, or fun, or hopeful, but god, why did it feel so good? “Videogames are fun, although I prefer to spend my time reading books,” he suddenly said, trying to distract himself.

“Books? What kind of books?” Hajime asked, looking at him seriously. Nagito took the second piece of toast, putting the butter and honey on it.

“I love murder mystery books the most. Although I read a bit of nonfiction and science literature as well,” he answered, not putting much thought into it. Actually holding the food in his hands made the hunger stronger, and he didn’t know it was even possible…

“Wait there, I’ll get you some,” Hajime said, getting up. Hearing that almost made Nagito choke on the toast out of surprise as he watched the other boy stand up and head to the door. No, you shouldn’t, you wasted way more time and energy and kindness on me than I will ever deserve today, he wanted to say, but Hajime already closed the door, locking it from the other side with a quiet soft clang…

Nagito waited, looking at the door. Hajime was taking longer than he expected. He turned on the console and tried to find something like a clock, or a calendar at least, but he there wasn’t anything like this in that weird device. Hajime probably decided to just leave him, he suspected, and that’s probably for the best – no, really, that was more of a comforting thought than an unpleasant one. He got up and walked around a bit, more to give his stiff and numb muscles some work than anything, when he heard the door opening again.

“Hello again, Hajime!” he spoke, as the other boy came in, looking like he was out of breath. He really was holding a couple of books and some piece of a heavy-looking cloth this time, making Nagito feel a pang of guilt again. Just, what drove him to do all of this? Was it the same thing that made people suddenly give him sad looks when they hear about his absolutely normal and logical desire to trade his worthless life for something more valuable, something that could bring the slightest ray of hope to the world?

“Hello… Can’t promise they’re any good, but these are all I could find in the library,” Hajime said, putting the books on the floor. Nagito wanted to thank him… but every word in his head seemed either not enough or too overdramatic. “So, you like murder mysteries?” Hajime suddenly asked, as if he wanted to end the awkward pause between them.

“Yes,” Nagito answered unsurely. “What about it?” – he made several steps back and sat down, leaning against the wall in the most comfortable position he could get in this empty room.

“Why is that?” Hajime asked, looking at him a bit more intently than Nagito expected.

“I like everything that makes you think, I suppose,” he answered unconfidently. “I also like the… unique relationships between the author and the reader they create. The balance between deceiving them and at the same time giving them a chance to figure everything out,” he added, putting his finger on his chin. “In a novel I read recently, the murderer creates different scenarios specifically to give the main character a chance to understand not only “whodunit” and “howdunit”, but also their motive… and them as a person. And I feel like… this is what the author of the mystery should do, even if their character doesn’t want this in-universe,” he spoke, now noticing that Hajime was staring at him thoughtfully, listening to every word with a surprising amount of attention.

“I once read a story where the mystery was about if a human did it, or an ancient god’s curse… And by the end it turned out that the ancient god did exist, but it was a nice sweet girl who begged people to stop as they slaughtered each other in her name. Was pretty cool,” Nagito continued to talk. Hajime frowned slightly… damn, he must’ve said something weird or stupid again.

“So you can talk like a normal person when you want to,” Hajime stated with a quiet sigh. Nagito felt his face turn hot and red. “Sorry, I was never a fan of this genre, so I don’t have that much to answer,” he added, scratching the back of his head.

“Huh? I wouldn’t think that, given how easily you solved ours with Teruteru’s mystery,” Nagito said, looking up at Hajime. For some reason, it made the anger return to his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know a smart, hopeful and talented person like you doesn’t need to know every trick in the book to solve the mystery,” he added, attempting to fix his mistake, but it made Hajime’s face look even more displeased.

“That’s not it!” he said, waving his hand angrily. “Just… don’t compare it to that. You know, Nagito, people actually died for it. It’s not some kind of… an entertaining story” – Hajime looked at the floor, his tone becoming less furious and more sad with each word.

“I… I see…” Nagito answered, fighting with the desire to make Hajime finally understand that their sacrifice was definitely worthy, and meaningful, and not a sad thing at all… But something at the back of his mind told him that it was the wrong time and place for it.

“Glad you understand,” Hajime said, his face softening a bit. “I’d be happy to read those stories we were talking about… when we get out of here,” he added, looking weirdly determined.

Hajime wanted to… leave this place? With him? With them both being alive? No, it was too good of a thought. He just meant this in general, Nagito was sure.

“Anyway, now I think I need to go. Everyone’s probably worried about me already,” Hajime spoke. “Oh, before I forget, take this too” – he put the piece of cloth he was holding the whole time on the floor. “It’s a blanket… It was just lying there in the library so it doesn’t seem like anyone needs it. Figured that sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be the most comfortable experience…” – Hajime paused, suddenly looking straight into Nagito’s eyes. “Moreover, you look like you’re cold… Always cold,” he added thoughtfully, and for some reason it made Nagito gulp.

“Before I go, need anything else?” Hajime asked, heading to the door.

“Some more food… please,” Nagito answered, accompanied by his stomach growling loudly again. Hajime smiled with a nod, and left.

Chapter 3: Set Free by the Ocean Scent

Nagito’s mind was reeling, his ears were ringing and his eyes fluttered around the room nervously as he sat on the hospital bed, with Hajime standing nearby, looking at him with an expression of a clear, unfiltered concern. He must not lie. He must not lie. He must not say stupid bullshit. He must just control his body, and his mouth and tongue were just other parts of it. Collect your thoughts, then say what you think. It was that simple.

“Leave me alone. I hate you. I can’t stand seeing your stupid face anymore.”

The words left without his permission, and all he wanted now was to grab his head and shake it with all his strength, or to smash it against the wall, or to drop his body against the floor with all his might so he would break his jaw and stop speaking forever… But his limbs weren’t moving, and all he could do was look at Hajime with a silly smile, drooling slightly as the other boy sighed, staring at him, a hint of curiosity suddenly making its way into his expressions.

“What are you waiting for? Do you want me to vomit from seeing your stupid face? I bet you’re actually not even a symbol of hope; you’re a worthless, talentless piece of trash. Erase yourself from this world and replace that pathetic loser you are with someone better,” – more words escaped from Nagito, and he wanted to put his hand on his lips, to take the bedsheet and stuff it into his throat, to take a bottle of acid and drink it so nothing would leave his dirty, disgusting mouth ever again, but all he could do instead was look into Hajime’s eyes. For a split second he seemed… hurt, really hurt, even more than he was in that trial, when he learned about Nagito’s role in it, and it made him want to rip off his own tongue with his bare hands. But it lasted just a split second, before Hajime suddenly smiled at him warmly.

“Wow, you want me to stay that badly? Not that I have nothing better to do… But if you’re begging like this, then I think I have no choice,” he sighed, coming closer, sitting down on the bed nearby. Feeling his presence that close made Nagito’s head spin. It was too near. Too personal. Almost about to touch him. Almost like he could give in and put his head on Hajime’s shoulder, and fall asleep peacefully… Feeling his coarse, spiky hair tickle his ear lightly… It was pleasant… Why was it so pleasant?

The thoughts consumed him, and he noticed it too late when his body began to fall down. He tried to direct it to the side, so he lands on the pillow and not on the floor, or, even worse, on Hajime, but…

“Hey, be careful. You’re very weak and we don’t want to give Mikan more trouble,” Hajime said, smiling, lightly holding Nagito’s shoulders, keeping him sitting upright. His hands were warm and soft, and feeling them suddenly made Nagito’s mind calm and peaceful, almost ready to fall asleep. “So try to not fall and bruise yourself, okay?” Hajime said, his tone slightly worried, as he pulled Nagito a bit closer to himself.

“Don’t touch me with your disgusting hands, you filthy, unworthy idiot. Every second I feel them on me feels like a torture. If I spend one more minute in your presence, I swear, it would make me lose my will to live, and your voice will haunt me in my nightmares,” Nagito blurted out, suddenly even for himself, his body feeling numb, every muscle going weak and limp. It was hard to breathe, and for the first time since he arrived on Jabberwock Island, he felt hot, overheated, almost as if his body was burning. His body began to shake weakly. He will die here, right? This is the place where his pathetic life ends… And the last thing Hajime hears from him will be those awful, bitter words.

This thought suddenly made him want to cry, but his face didn’t reflect this feeling either, instead making his dumb disgusting smile grow bigger.

“So it means… My touches made you regain your will to live and my voice comes to you in your sweet dreams?” Hajime asked, half-flattered, half surprised. Nagito’s face got hot, and it wasn’t from his body temperature rising up this time. “If so… I think I don’t mind being closer for a while,” he added, pulling him near again, holding him gently with one arm.

“The only positive of it is that you might catch the Despair Disease from me and die! Yes, my talent will surely make it happen, and it would be such amazing luck,” Nagito spoke again, his own tone – cheerful, almost like he wanted to burst into laughter – making him flinch. Hajime looked at him with a mix of confusion and surprise, and then smiled calmly again.

“Oh, that does make sense, I probably shouldn’t get that close,” he said, scratching the back of his head. But, contrary to his own words, he didn’t let go, instead wrapping his other hand around Nagito’s shoulders, now cuddling him tightly. His body was soft, and it made Nagito relax unwillingly, now leaning against him, letting himself enjoy the moment. He could feel his heartbeat: strong, methodical, probably a bit faster than normal, but nothing compared to his own heart, racing rapidly.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Hajime said, sounding playful, without the slightest hint of remorse in his voice. He leaned back, still not letting go, but now gently putting Nagito’s body, still way too weak and limp, on the bed. “God, you’re hot… Um… I mean, your body temperature,” he said awkwardly, and although Nagito couldn’t see his face, he was sure he was blushing, scratching the back of his head again. “I know you probably feel overheated already, but we need to keep your body warm, so please understand,” he said, fiddling with something on the other side of the bed. The next second Nagito felt the weight of a pretty heavy warm blanket on him, as Hajime tucked it in carefully.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. I’ll just sit on that chair on the other side of the room and will watch you until Mikan arrives, okay?” Hajime asked, his tone starting to become worried again. “Don’t worry… Monokuma is forbidden from actually killing any one of us. So I’m sure it’ll get better. Just hold on a little bit longer,” he added, probably trying to calm himself down just as much as he was attempting to comfort Nagito. His breathing became a bit easier, but the waves of weakness were getting worse with every second, and he felt like he couldn’t get up no matter how hard he would try.

Hajime put his hand on his forehead… then pressed his lips against his cheek lightly, giving him a soft, pleasant kiss. Body temperature, he was just checking his body temperature, nothing more, Nagito was sure, but his face went red nonetheless. He turned his head to the side, burying his nose into the pillow, in a pathetic attempt to hide it. “So, try to sleep and regain your strength,” Hajime said, not noticing – or pretending not to notice – his pitiful efforts. Nagito still wanted him to stay, and he hated it, hated it, hated it, it was an awful wish, so selfish, it would be horrible if Hajime got the disease and gave Mikan more work or if he got it really bad and had to stay in bed, if he experienced all that weakness and shortness of breath and temperature and everything, and…!

And died. Nagito wasn’t sure why he suddenly was so hesitant to let his thought into his mind. Everyone he wanted to stay with him had always died, one by one.

“Hope you’ll get well soon,” Hajime spoke quietly, as if he was thinking Nagito might be sleeping already. Then he took a step back, now making himself comfortable in the chair.

Nagito struggled not to answer, trying to stop his tongue from creating another terrible, twisted, hurtful lie and bring it to reality. This time he succeeded, as his weak, failing body succumbed to the pleasant unconsciousness faster than he could form a single word.

Chapter 4: Do Ultimate Lucky Students Dream of Love Confessions?

“I was fine with it when I was healthy, but it would be lonely to die alone…”

The room was bright. Too bright. It made Nagito head spin, although he wasn’t sure if it was from those awful, acidic colors twisting the walls and the furniture and everything that was in the Funhouse into a mess with the single purpose of making people go insane, if not from the hunger and the lack of sleep. He tried to concentrate on Hajime’s face, the only thing that looked familiar, and normal, and comforting in this hell of wonderlands. The other boy stared narrowly into his eyes.

“So, it was a weird thought. Never would have thought it’d appear in my mind. But now, when I feel death coming closer and closer, all I want is… someone to love me. Or at least, to understand me,” he said quietly. The weight of his words suddenly got to him, but he understood it all too late. Hajime looked at him seriously, and he expected to see a familiar glint of pity in his eyes, but what he saw instead was genuine concern. For some reason that’s even worse, and he turned his head away, looking at the palm of his hand, unable to bear seeing the other boy’s eyes.

“Or… maybe it was something I read in a book,” he said calmly, smiling, waving his hand as usual. He definitely told him too much. It probably was the hunger, and the sleep deprivation, and those stupid walls, green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and grape and strawberry. And his genuine desire to have someone believe him, have someone take him seriously, have someone love him, but he would never let those dumb feelings control him. He knew he didn’t deserve any of that. But he hoped he at least was worthy or of someone who will make him a good and appreciable sacrifice for them. So, it must’ve been hunger. Definitely hunger.

Hajime made a step forward. His motions seemed slow, but Nagito was not sure if it was because he was hungry and powerless too or because his own mind was just processing things like that. Without words, Hajime lifted up his hand and gave Nagito a strong, sonorous slap on the face, enough to make him turn his head away.

It didn’t feel painful, though. His cheek just got numb and red, as he looked at Hajime, blinking in surprise, the flashing images of his face surrounded by green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and warm and dear to his heart almost making him feel nauseous.

“Why did you lie?” Hajime asked, quietly, but his low voice just made it sound more clear in the silent empty hallway.

“Aw, that. I just wanted some of your sympathy, I guess. Wanted to know how it felt,” Nagito answered carelessly, making a step back in confusion.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Hajime asked again, lifting up his head and looking him into the eyes. Nagito gulped, making another step back instinctively. He was so stupid, upsetting a shining symbol of hope with his problems unworthy of anyone’s attention.

“Of course not,” he answered reassuringly, a look of worry on his face. “I would not ever think that about someone chosen by the Hope’s Peak Academy, ever,” he said, clenching his hand and putting it on his chest.

“Damn it, not this again,” Hajime groaned, his quiet fury giving up its place to a good old annoyance. “Forget about damn Hope’s Peak Academy. Do you think I am stupid? Or do you think I don’t care?” he asked, now staring at Nagito seriously.

“No,” he answered without thinking, making Hajime’s face soften. For some reason he felt a chill go down his spine.

“Good. I believe you,” Hajime smiled, coming closer. “Now, knowing I’m not stupid and I do care about you, which part of everything you said was a lie?” he asked, frowning slightly, a look of concern returning to his expression.

“The part…” – Nagito gulped nervously, struggling to find the right words. His mind screamed, and his very being begged him, no, don’t do this, don’t pull Hajime closer, don’t drag him deeper into this mess than he already is, he wouldn’t last long, your luck will do him in and if it won’t, your delusional mind and awful personality and ugly face and disgusting voice and your utter uselessness will bring him down forever, but…

But he gave up.

“The part with the book, I think,” he said awkwardly, looking at his hand again. It was a convenient place to look; anywhere but Hajime’s eyes and those green and pink walls

“You think?” Hajime asked, sighing, but the expression on his face was one of relief. “See, I know why you would… not want anyone to know those things,” he said, his voice soft and calming. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want that either. It is difficult to make someone you know, and someone who is dear to you, go through this. But making yourself go through it alone, not letting anyone help, is even worse,” he added, clenching his fist with a weird determination in his eyes, like when he was talking about how they all would leave that place, alive and well, without needing to sacrifice anyone. “And for me, making you go through this alone is way more painful than… any alternatives,” he spoke softly, but firmly. In a tone that made Nagito want to believe him.

“I see…” – Nagito was bad at finding the words, but he mustered enough courage to look back into Hajime’s eyes. The other boy smiled at him affectionately. He came close, touching his cheek gently.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this,” Hajime said, sounding way more remorseful than he probably needed to.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing, really…” – Nagito smiled, as Hajime’s warm fingers against his cheek made it tingle, slightly. The spot was still red. Hajime frowned.

“What you should do first is stop this ‘I’m okay if people hurt me’ stuff,” he sighed, putting his hand on Nagito’s shoulder. Nagito looked at him with confusion, and for some reason it made Hajime’s eyebrows furrow more in displeasure.

“But why?” Nagito asked, looking at him seriously. “Isn’t it just a logical thing, I mean? If I’m worthless, at least I can make someone else worthy? Like, if someone had a bunch of sticks, a ragged cloth, and an old hat, he could make a scarecrow from it, making a worthless thing into a worthy one?” – or burn it all to get some warmth, he wanted to say, but didn’t. Hajime sighed.

“That’s… that’s not it at all…” – He looked resentful, almost as if it was he himself who’s being called trash. “Don’t compare people to garbage!” – Hajime’s body got tense; Nagito could clearly feel it standing so close to him.

“But they are! Those poor fools, powerless to change anything, deluding themselves that hard work will get them somewhere, will let them change the world, how pathetic,” he said, shrugging, a weird hint of gleefulness sneaking into his voice as he continued to ramble. “But hey, as least they can be useful! Me, though? My literal destiny is to bring misery and pain upon anyone I meet! That’s all I’m good for!” he exclaimed loudly, almost sounding like was proud of it. Hajime’s hand relaxed as he pulled it away. Nagito wanted him to slap his face again, stronger, with all his power, maybe then his luck will make him fall and snap his neck, or crack his skull, and then Hajime will escape, finally, someone would leave this cursed island…!

Hajime wrapped both of his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His warm body was shaking weakly, but only by the tone of his voice did Nagito understand that he was crying.

“Stop it,” he said, softly, but sternly, voice remaining clear. “Stop comparing people… to those weird things. And stop comparing yourself… to those weird things as well,” he added, cuddling Nagito closer, making all his words and all his counterarguments stick in his throat, and even his thoughts go empty, thinking about nothing but Hajime’s gentle hands and his arms on his back and the warmth of his body. “And even if you won’t stop… You’re my ragged cloth that I will patch to the end of time, and I will never throw it away, or burn it, or make a scarecrow of it, because… it’s dear to me,” he said seriously. The comparison made Nagito’s face red and hot again, his embarrassment doing a good job at hiding his amusement.

“So, please, stop,” – Hajime looked into his eyes, without interrupting the hug. Nagito didn’t remember when he started to hold him back. “I said it earlier and I repeat: I don’t want you to get hurt, or to die” – he pursed his lips and that weird aura of determination returned to him again. It brought… a truly pleasant, hopeful feeling in Nagito’s mind. Even for a second, he could just enjoy it, getting lost in the moment, closing his eyes and putting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Only when the other boy leaned back, he remembered…

He knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I love you,” he said, a bit too simply for those powerful words, but for some reason they came out easily, like it was something always meant to be said. Hajime smiled…

Before he could understand, Hajime pulled him into another hug, silencing his worries with a gentle kiss.

All his doubts were gone. He knew it now.

If he gets to the Strawberry house ever again, he will go into the Final Dead Room.

Chapter 5: Smile at Hope in the Name of Despair

“Really, you shouldn’t worry about me. Just go and have fun with the others,” Nagito said, smiling. The hotel lobby was quiet, and nobody was there except Hajime. Why did he come? Wasn’t Nagito clear enough about not wanting to have anything to do with any of them? He probably should’ve tried to shoo him off harder, way harder, but he couldn’t summon the past feelings of rage and betrayal, to fuel all the hurtful things he could think about. He just got worn out, his mind weirdly clear, now completely focused on the plan.

After all, he is no better than any of them himself, so what right did he have to pretend to feel so hurt and disgusted by their actions?

“No!” Hajime exclaimed loudly, anger flashing in his eyes, as he kicked the floor underneath. Nagito looked at him with surprise. “I refuse,” he said, trying to calm down, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Why not? Do you want something from me?” Nagito asked casually, expression unchanged. For some reason, his nonchalant tone made Hajime look more hurt and enraged than any of his previous remarks ever could as he came closer, his resentment clear in each loud footstep.

“Yes, I do,” he blurted out, tone almost sarcastic, like he was saying something obvious and self-evident. “Just what the hell happened to you?!” he exclaimed, the anger and sadness mixing up in his voice still making Nagito feel a pang of guilt, and he had no idea why would it have such an effect, because even the thought of killing them didn’t seem to do the same. He sighed, trying to shrug off that weird sensation… god, why was there no switch in his head to stop caring about that stupid red face, about those oddly keen, but kind eyes, about that spiky, pleasantly tickling hair.

Right now, he could as well have been tying up his arms and legs, applying knots slowly with one hand, the spear’s cord already in his grip.

But he didn’t, as he continued wasting time with Hajime. “And I don’t. Leave me alone,” he said firmly, trying not to look at the other boy. It got harder as he came closer, almost like he wanted to pull him into another hug…

“Back off,” Nagito snarled at him, pulling out the army knife that he already had prepared long ago. Hajime stopped, looking at it with more confusion than fear. “I don’t want to kill you and die a dumb death from being executed, but come any closer and I will use it,” Nagito said, his tone friendly, but serious. Hajime seemed to hesitate.

Right now, Nagito could as well have been lifting up that knife above himself. He did hesitate, especially before the first stab, when he sat there for a good minute, looking at the blade until the anxiety became more unbearable than any pain he could imagine. Then he swung his arm as quickly as he could. The feeling of one’s skin being torn up a bit was probably familiar to any person, but the agonizing sensation of the muscles and tendons and vessels getting ruptured as the knife was tearing through them all alike was like nothing he ever felt before. His scream, even muffled by the tape, echoed through the room, ringing in his ears more than the loud, roaring music.

Right now, he could as well have been preparing to pull it out, the thought of doing it all again and again and again making him shiver, even though he knew it was what he deserved.

But he didn’t, as Hajime continued to come closer, still looking a bit unsure. “You won’t,” he said, trying to hide his anxiety, but his voice was giving him away, every hint of anger and sadness washed away by the fear. He made a step forward.

“What makes you think so?” Nagito asked, his tone sounding curious and almost amused. He looked at the knife, playing with it in his hands, hoping his luck would stop him from accidentally losing a finger.

“Because…” – Hajime came close, dangerously close. Despite being the one with the knife, it was Nagito who needed to take a step back. Hearing Hajime’s voice, seeing his face, letting him touch his cheek, hugging him, kissing him; it was all too much, it could make him give up, and he couldn’t, he didn’t want to…!

Why was he even so hesitant? His plan would end up with Hajime, and all the other people he had called his friends and his classmates, dead anyway. Except the traitor. He didn’t know who it was, but he knew for sure it couldn’t have been Hajime. What a terrible luck it was to be aware of that. Damn that notebook for stripping him from the only delusion that would bring him any comfort. In the Funhouse, he was still clinging to the pathetic chance of “dying for the sake of his beloved”, how stupid, how childish, how pathetic it was. Nagito looked at the knife…

Right now, he should have been staring at this very knife in his hand, already covered in his own warm blood, and gripping it tighter. Pulling it out was almost worse than plunging it in. His shaky hands probably didn’t help, making the knife disturb already wounded flesh, all his instincts telling him to stop. He thought it would be way easier, way faster, a quick succession of stabs and slashes. In reality, he just wanted it to end already, despite the fact that it had just began. But he couldn’t. There was no going back now.

There was no going back the moment he read the files.

Right now, he could as well have been taking a deep breath, preparing himself for another wave of excruciating pain. It didn’t make it any more bearable when he swung his arm again until it hit something soft – and his mind registered that this something was his own flesh, ruptured way too easily by the sharp steel. He cried out, writhing, screaming until he was gasping for breath, thankful that the tape made all the sounds muffled, too weak to be heard. His leg jerked – or at least tried to, held back by the rope, but it was enough for the blade to press against the muscles, buried deeply into the flesh, evoking another weak attempt to shout.

Right now, he should have been pulling the knife out as fast as he could. He was trying to catch his breath, desperately needing a break, but it didn’t stop him from bringing the knife down again. His body was fighting against itself, making him try to jerk his hand away before the blow, to move his leg out of its way, to do anything just to make it stop, but he struggled against it, moving his arm down in another shaky motion. He missed the spot a bit, making the tip of the knife press against the already open wound, and the sensation was unbearable; the feeling of the burning, violent agony was so bad it made him drag the knife away way faster than he should…

Right now, he could’ve been screaming, yelling. It was loud, so loud that he was hearing it despite the gag, feeling the tape stretching out around his mouth. He could almost call it relieving, painfully comforting, his pathetic cries and thrown-back neck and arched back distracting him from the pain, if it wasn’t for his throat starting to get dry and sore.

Nagito’s head was spinning, and he tried to shake it, as if that could help him to see anything but red. The new injury was not even half as deep as the other ones… Bad… Suspicious… He was weak. Why was he so weak? He knew that if he ever wanted to clean himself from despair, to earn the world’s forgiveness, he needed to endure any punishment prepared for him. Everything was deserved. In fact, he deserved way worse.

And yet, he decided to just leave it like this, hoping Hajime and the others wouldn’t actually check.

Right now, he should have been swinging the knife again, trying to hold it more steadily. With the fourth stab, he realized that the pain started to get weaker. Probably because of the severed nerves, or just from getting used to it, perhaps. With the fifth one, he was slowly regaining his ability to think straight. With the sixth blow, he felt like the new pang of pain was nothing compared to the lingering feeling of agony from the previous wounds…

With the sixteenth one, he realized there was no place on his right leg he could reach that wasn’t already ripped apart and covered in deep bleeding injuries. He felt the blood soaking his clothes, making them wet and sticky, and sensed it flowing down to the floor. At the beginning of it, it was just slightly warm. Now it felt almost hot, as his skin was getting colder, somehow paler than it already was.

Right now he could as well have been trembling in fear, realizing it was less than half of what needed to be done.

But he didn’t, instead desperately trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with the situation he found himself in. He could’ve just listened to Hajime, then waited until he’s gone, then continued with the plan. He could’ve done this, it was so easy, or it would be so easy if Hajime wasn’t so kind to him, so supportive, so understanding, so willing to listen and to reach out. Even now, he was still trying to do this, despite everything Nagito did and said to him, despite every insult, both accidental and those carefully chosen to sting as deeply as possible. Despite the fact that he was threatening his very life, along with the lives of all his friends.

Nagito didn’t deserve him.

Why was he still thinking about Hajime in this way, Nagito wondered. He was supposed to be an enemy, a living incarnation of despair. He was an awful, evil person; Nagito knew it for a fact. And yet he was there, so dear and so close and still wanting to talk to him, to figure him out already. Why was he so stubborn with this?

He should’ve just tricked him, saying it’s alright now and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Thinking about it, it would have made the plan even more likely to work by decreasing the chance of them starting to suspect any malicious intent from him.

But he knew himself and he knew that he couldn’t. The moment he let Hajime come closer, he would lose. He would succumb to his selfish wishes and give up.

He wanted to give up.

He let the thought of abandoning everything, of betraying hope, not the first, but the second time, invade his mind. The realization started to sink in, and he pointed the knife at Hajime. Why was the idea of hurting him directly was still so unbearable?

“Seriously, don’t get any closer,” Nagito said, all his energy directed at keeping his composure. He hoped Hajime couldn’t read him well enough to understand how panicked and conflicted he was. “As I said earlier, I don’t want to actually kill you, so I’ll aim at your non-vital points, but hey, knowing my luck, anything could happen” – he wanted to laugh cheerfully, but the sound that escaped was more of a cough. “So, can you make it easier and just go away?” – he didn’t understand when his tone had become pleading, almost desperate.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

Just go away.

Just come closer, come closer, ignore everything I said, just be with me for now, hold me closer.

Hajime flinched, pausing for a bit, his whole body tense and sweat running down his forehead. Nagito gulped, watching him in anticipation. Hajime made another step forward, making him feel both fear and relief… and regret, regret that he didn’t just go to that damn warehouse earlier.

Right now, he could as well have been there, finishing with his second leg. At first each wound brought him a feeling of sharp, intense pain. Now those feelings were slowly transforming into an overall agonizing sensation that felt like it was covering every muscle in his thighs. His legs started to get numb, he noticed with relief. He needed to do something with his arm now, he remembered, getting dizzy from the blood loss, breathing heavily through his nose.

Right now, he could as well have been tracing the blade down across his shoulder, barely having energy to make the knife even rip through the fabric of his jacket, leaving a shallow, bleeding cut. His screams died down to weak pitiful whimpers, barely audible even for his own ears.

Right now, he could as well have remembered the most painful part is yet to come.

But he didn’t, as Hajime was coming closer and closer, making Nagito take a step back with each of his steps forward. Nagito soon found himself pressed against the wall, the knife still in his hand. Hajime now looked at him a bit more confidently as he made the final step forward. Their noses were almost touching each other. Carefully, Hajime put his palm on the blade of the knife, then gently took it from Nagito’s hand. Nagito looked at it, almost feeling like he was unable to move as the other boy sighed with relief and tossed the weapon across the room. He heard it hit the wall with a clang.

“See?” Hajime asked, wrapping his arms around Nagito’s shoulders, holding him, tears standing in his eyes. “God, it was pretty scary, I must admit,” the other boy spoke softly, laughing a little. That was almost enough to make Nagito smile in return. “But I believed in you,” he said, sounding weirdly solemn, before cuddling him closer. “Always believed, and it always will be this way” – Hajime was crying now; Nagito could hear it in his voice.

At this very moment, he could’ve been raising his hand above the knife standing blade-up. His breathing was heavy and ragged. His body quivered weakly – he didn’t know if it was from the pain or from the fear, or probably both. He really, really, didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t even necessary for the plan. He could as well have tossed the knife aside and left it at that, waiting for the poison to bring him mercy…

He slammed his hand down with all the power that was left in his broken body.

The pain came delayed, and it felt almost like the time it took for his brain to process it made it worse. His immediate reaction, the instinct that stops people from accidentally hurting themselves, made him try to jerk his hand back, to get it away from whatever was attacking. His arm twitched, lifting up instinctively, but the weight of the knife brought it down, the metal screeching against the floor. Only then did he scream, and before that he was ready to swear he was unable to do so anymore. His body wriggled in convulsions, trembling, no longer in his control, his fingers twitching as the pool of blood underneath his palm was getting wider.

Right now, he could have been slowly regaining his composure, barely keeping himself conscious, tossing the toy away with a swift movement and stretching out his arm to make it look like it was tied up, hoping to do it before the flash of adrenaline wears out.

But he didn’t, instead hugging Hajime in return, trying to keep his warm body closer. He was crying – not from pain or fear, but from happiness, feeling his gentle touches and listening to his soothing words. Hajime leaned back a bit, to look right into Nagito’s eyes.

“I knew it all along. It’s because you love me. And, no matter how much you want to deny it, I love you.”

Hajime Hinata never said that.

He smiled warmly, as if Nagito didn’t threaten him with the knife a couple minutes ago. As if he didn’t try to scare him and his friends with the bomb. As if he didn’t spend the last few days insulting him and putting him down at every chance he had. He still stood there with open arms, welcoming him back.

Hajime Hinata never did that.

Hajime Hinata never approached him on the beach. Probably never figured out his real scheme either. The ones who took the effort to take care of him and keep him from starving were Mahiru Koizumi, and Monomi, the teacher. Hajime Hinata never was able to figure out his lies, whether they were caused by the disease or said voluntarily. Even if he did, he never bothered to explain it.

Right now Hajime Hinata was probably having fun with the others. Well, searching around, chasing after the non-existent bombs was not exactly fun, but…

Nagito let out a quiet, short sob. From the pain, surely, only from that. The torture had ended long ago, and most of his body felt numb and distant, but the burning sensation all over it was still nothing short of agony. He knew he deserved it all. To suffer until his last breath; a fitting end for him.

Even now, why was his mind still clinging to Hajime Hinata?

He didn’t know how much time had passed, or how much he had left. Minutes passed, and he felt like each of them was an hour. Or maybe those really were hours? Nagito was not sure. He was trying not to move, but his body was still trembling, with occasional convulsive motions shaking him up. Something was breaking inside him, he could tell. He had tried to make the blood loss slow, with the stab wounds facing upwards and the knife remaining impaled into his hand, making the bleeding weaker. All to hold on long enough for the traitor to kill him. All for the sake of fixing his mistake.

He’ll die alone.

All he wanted now was to hear Hajime’s voice once again.

Hajime wasn’t perfect. Hajime was, in reality, just a scared, stupid kid. But he tried to help. Even if it was not enough, he really tried. He didn’t understand, but he wanted to understand; he was trying to understand. He needed just a little bit more time.

Or that was what Nagito chose to think.

Finally, he heard a sound that was not the repeating music. It was the roar of a fire as the curtain ignited to his right, the blaze chasing away the creeping darkness. All Nagito could see was his own blood. He tried not to look, staring at the ceiling instead. There were voices… Akane and Kazuichi, yelling loudly, but he still couldn’t make out the words. Sonia mentioned the fire grenades…

It will end soon, and he didn’t know if that brought more fear or relief.

He just wanted a confirmation that Hajime Hinata was real. That he did care in his own awkward way. It was so pathetic. The way was he still clinging to this idiot, this moron, this traitor… Sadly, not the one from the Future Foundation –  instead he betrayed the very idea of hope.

But Hajime did come to him in that hospital. He volunteered to help Mikan. He helped him to get up, and assisted him as they went there… That was all reality, right?

Something whistled. The sound of broken glass followed. The fire was closer than Nagito thought, and he suddenly felt hot, even more than he previously did with the disease. The smoke filled his nose and the music continued to play. The poison was probably spreading from somewhere already.

For some reason, he tried to hold his breath.

He wanted to stay there just for a bit longer, just to hear something, anything that Hajime would say. It didn’t matter what. It didn’t matter how. He just was clinging to this irrational, pathetic wish.

No matter who Hajime Hinata was, Nagito loved him.

His body grew too weak. He felt like his consciousness was about to leave him at any second as his vision now filled with colorful flickering spots. The spear was dangling above him – that was all he could see… He closed his eyes… Just the sounds. Focus on the sounds. On hearing Hajime’s sweet voice once again.

The next thing he felt was his hand slipping.

The flash of fear in his mind was not fast enough to make him tighten his grip again. Before the blow, all he could do was scream.

The pain didn’t come this time. All that followed was a cacophony of sounds, of all kinds of things in the human body getting torn apart and destroyed. The wet, sickening noise of steel going through his skin and flesh was all too familiar, but the loud crunch that followed still made Nagito flinch, something primordial inside him saying it was not right. He just hoped that it was his ribcage, not his spine. Why so, he had no idea, as he knew a long time ago it was the end for him anyway.

Unable to hold on any longer, he finally took a deep breath.

He expected the poisonous gas to burn his lungs, to make him choke, but instead it just made him feel sleepy and numb. His body finally stopped shaking, all his sensations fading away slowly. For some reason, he opened his eyes again. The sounds, he was still trying to focus on the sounds…

The voices didn’t come again, and soon the fire and even the music faded away, as if he was hearing them through a wall of water. As his consciousness finally left him, all that remained was his own muffled scream that was ringing loudly in his ears until it got stuck in his throat, his expression distorted into a look of fear and agony.

No matter what Hajime could think or feel about him, seeing that expression engraved on his face brought him nothing but guilt, regrets and nightmares.

Chapter 6: The Day Before the Future

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

Of course, Hajime knew nobody in the room could hear him, but it felt right to ask this question anyway. He looked at the person behind the glass pod with an expression that could be described as a weird mix of both hope and resignation, determination and fatalism. He will work on it. He will, eventually, wake everyone up. He just knew it wouldn’t happen right now, as some sort of magical miracle. After all, if something as small as words would be enough to break a person out of a deep trauma-induced coma caused by their brain accepting they were dead, why would anyone train doctors and nurses and surgeons?

He wasn’t sure why he kept coming there, because it made no sense, and the fact that he was actively trying to talk to someone who gives him as much of a reaction as the wall of glass between them made even less sense, but…

It would be just too sad to leave Nagito completely alone.

So Hajime came to visit him… occasionally. Not every day, like Sonia did with Gundham, or Fuyuhiko – with Peko. But definitely more often than to anyone else on that island. Recognizing it made him feel… weird. He sighed, unknowingly placing his hand against the glass, tapping his fingers slightly. Of course, there’s no reaction.

“Why do I still want to talk to you so much?” Hajime asked, talking to both himself and the boy in the pod. Really, why? By all logical means, he should hate him. His rational mind told him to fear him. He knew it was weird, to hold this much attachment to someone who tried to kill you twice. And yet…

All his efforts to hate Nagito was always weak and vain, and all the grudges he could hold vanished the second he saw the boy’s dead body. When he came closer and closer to the truth behind the murder, he still felt fear, and anger, and he wanted to yell that this was messed up and wrong and not fair and what the actual fuck, but… As soon as he said final goodbyes and stumbled to his cottage, barely awake, trying to forget that day like it was a bad dream, all that was left was just sadness and guilt and inability to comprehend why in the world would anyone wish – and not only wish, but also actively inflict – that awful torture upon themselves.

At least now he looked peaceful, sleeping behind the pod, lying without movements except for his chest raising up and down, showing that he’s still breathing, still alive, that there’s still some hope for him left. His face was calm, eyes and mouth closed, with no signs of any pain or fear and discomfort to be seen. Hajime focused on it, trying to remember it like this, as if it would erase the horrific imagery he saw in the stimulation, still vivid before his eyes.

It wasn’t real.

But the emotions and thoughts that caused Nagito to plan and do it were. He can’t ignore them.

Hajime wanted to understand them. Because only after understanding them, could he fight them.

He sighed again, standing up from his chair, removing his hand from the pod. Before leaving, he took another quick glance at the boy…

Was he giving him too much credit? Thinking about it, there was nothing that could guarantee he wouldn’t just try to murder them again if… when he finally wakes up. Hajime shook his head, trying to chase away that thought.

That thought, wasn’t it the same that caused Nagito to try to kill them all? Hajime knew he shouldn’t give up to it. He was preparing to show it wasn’t true. To prove that each one of them deserved a second chance. A chance to build a new shining future.

“I will come again soon.”

---

“Hey… I have researched your medical files…”

Hajime spoke quietly, still knowing nobody could hear him, and this probably had made his voice even more sad. Of course, Nagito didn’t answer, giving no signs that he’s listening, or even that he’s alive, although the latter was proven by the image on the monitor checking his vital signs, and his quiet, even breathing – a little bit too even, Hajime would say.

Three weeks had passed since the first person woke up, and it gave a much-needed morale boost to everyone who remained on Jabberwock Island. A ray of hope, Hajime would say, but using that word in this context didn’t seem right anymore. Mikan Tsumiki had opened her eyes at that morning, scared and confused and too intimidated to even leave her pod for hours, but thankfully Despair Disease didn’t seem to carry on into the real world. After that, the process of waking everyone up was slowed down a bit, since a lot of effort was spent on explaining everything to her, and making sure to deal with any complications in time.

But after that, everyone doubled their efforts. As the idea of waking their friends up turned from a miracle into a plausible possibility, Hajime could see the light return into Sonia’s and Fuyuhiko’s eyes, as he saw the princess leave Gundham’s side without trails on her cheek for the first time since their arrival on the real Jabberwock Island. They all were working, now knowing that their efforts would be eventually rewarded.

And Mikan was happy to join them. It was actually her idea to check everyone’s medical profiles – it would help to adjust the amount and the quality of food and meds they were getting, and to take care of any medical issues, if anyone had them. And, as Hajime figured out soon, they had a lot…

Reading Nekomaru’s file was just… painful. He was lucky Mikan got to wake up so fast – without extra meds and care from the nurse, he could’ve been dead before ever opening his eyes again.

And Nagito’s… Hajime didn’t know many of all those fancy medical words in his profile, but he clearly understood one thing – by all odds, he should’ve already been long dead.

But he wasn’t, instead continuing to plague Hajime’s mind with his existence, making him think and think and think about him, and everything he said and did way too much…

“When you said that… you have not much time left, and it would be too lonely to die alone, I didn’t know if I should believe you,” Hajime said, still not waiting for an answer, taking a seat in a chair conveniently placed near the capsule. “In fact, I probably just… didn’t want to believe it. Just like you didn’t want me to get too close, I didn’t want to let my weird… attraction grow stronger than it already was,” – he sighed. He still didn’t know why was he coming back to talk to a wall of glass, but if he wanted to get it all off his chest, Nagito was as good of a listener as anyone. After all, everyone else here has too much of their own emotional baggage to deal with.

“I want to say ‘damn, I wish I could figure it out earlier’, but in fact I just… chose to run away, didn’t I?” he asked, looking at Nagito attentively, trying to find any motion, any reaction, even if it was just his eyelids trembling or his mouth twitching, but there was nothing.

If he was awake, what would he say?

Would he put himself down, saying nobody should care about stuff like this anyway, every self-loathing remark hitting harder now, when Hajime knew it wasn’t all just for attention? Would he sneer and giggle, saying he’s surprised a Reserve Course fool like him could figure it out at all, pretending it’s impressive that he’s even able to read? Would he still try to take it back? Would he just ask to be left alone?

Hajime didn’t know, and this lack of knowledge was the worst. But at least now he knew it was possible to figure it out.

To fix it all.

This time he left without saying anything.

---

“Hello there… At least, now I have a good excuse to come.”

Hajime scratched the back of his head with his right hand, smiling slightly, holding a bucket full of cloths in his other one. At first, the manner of still gesturing, mimicking, adding intonations to his voice while talking to his sleeping classmates seemed weird to him. Now, he wished to keep it. By treating them like living people, he could remind himself they’re still alive. They would wake up.

Hajime came closer to the pod. After a short hesitation, he opened it. Thankfully, people in the capsules were still able to breathe properly, and support their own heartbeat. Their conscious minds were just… not responding. They’re just sleeping, they’re not dead, Hajime repeated again, looking at Nagito’s calm, pale face.

“Mikan told me your immune system is weakened and even the smallest sickness can turn into huge trouble when it comes to you, so we should keep you nice and warm,” he explained, and he didn’t know to who, but doing something like this without words felt a bit too awkward. “So I decided to bring you some warm blankets…” – Hajime’s face ran red for some reason, and the fact that it happened even when he knew for sure nobody could see or hear him anyway only made him feel more awkward.

He put his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. First, he needed to place the cloth under his body, so he lifted him up slightly, making him take a sitting position. He didn’t react. Didn’t respond. His skin was really pale and unnaturally cold. It was almost the same as turning around the hand of the corpse, to examine the blood pattern… Hajime shook his head quickly. He shouldn’t think about it in this way. He carefully placed a blanket over Nagito’s shoulders and gently put him back, returning to a lying position. Then took another one, and covered his chest. He was breathing. The corpse had not been breathing. There were no wounds and not a single drop of blood, but Hajime couldn’t shake the sense of uneasiness completely.

There was a hand in the pod, and it was not Nagito’s hand. Hajime preferred to not think about it when he covered it with another piece of cloth.

His hand… At first, Hajime thought they should just cut it off. But for some reason, it wasn’t rotting, and didn’t seem to affect anything in Nagito’s body at all, as if was just a morbid accessory he was wearing instead of a decaying piece of human flesh. Junko’s Enoshima’s flesh that he decided to made into a part of himself.

Another part of himself that Hajime needed to figure out. To understand. To accept. He touched Junko’s hand lightly. It was cold. He traced his finger up, to Nagito’s own shoulder, just to make sure it was a bit less cold. He waited for a short minute, until it could become warm. Only after that he closed the pod and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

So he did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He felt like he needed to.

---

“Hello… I hope Mikan was gentle with you today…”

Talking to Nagito didn’t feel weird anymore, probably because Hajime was doing it for so long. He came closer to the pod, hesitant, clutching a small box to his chest. He was the only one who kept visiting that place, except Sonia, who was coming to everyone and insisting that no friend should be abandoned since Gundham woke up, and Mikan, who was now taking care of them, moving their limbs and massaging them so their muscles wouldn’t atrophy from not being used.

Hajime offered his help. So did Sonia, and Mahiru. But Mikan insisted on doing it all alone, because nobody else was qualified enough, and to not feel useless, Hajime suspected, but of course he would never say such a thing.

“Everyone is waking up, slowly, but surely. The first was Mikan. Probably because knowing it was not real made it easier to her brain to cope. Then it was Mahiru, Hiyoko, Ibuki… and now Nekomaru and Gundham are with us as well,” he spoke with a slight smile, unable to contain the pride in his voice completely. But there was no reaction, as always, and it quickly made him frown again as he sat down near the pod.

How would Nagito even react? Would he be happy of this “hopeful” outcome, praising everyone for defeating Junko and overcoming their despair? Would he be mad that the incarnations of everything he hated were allowed to live again? Would he feel defeated? Maybe he could celebrate this defeat.

He surely wouldn’t be lying there so calmly, breathing slowly.

In this state, he couldn’t hurt and confuse them anymore. Couldn’t do anything dumb and stupid and dangerous to himself and others. Couldn’t bring any more pain to them. And to himself.

Couldn’t see the hopeful outcomes he was yearning for. Couldn’t help them to achieve it. Couldn’t drop roundabout hints and silent clues leading to the goal they pursued. Couldn’t explore the real Jabberwock, much bigger and grander, with Hajime. Couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t make him feel special.

Now, when he didn't have to fear for his life, the thought that everything good and bad was now not here started to sink in again, making his chest heavy. He felt guilt. For deciding to take the offer and joining Kamukura project, mostly. For starting the mess they all found themselves in, for letting Junko sneak in, allowing her to drag them all into an awful killing game, and eventually to tell Nagito what he shouldn’t have known.

Of course, there was something more personal in this guilt too. He felt the regret of not taking more effort to reach out. To understand. To show more kindness… Would that be enough? Hajime wasn’t sure. Actually, he was more sure that only that wouldn’t have been enough to stop the tragedy from happening… But he still regretted not trying. Not taking a chance, just standing there, watching how someone who he once called a friend succumbs to his own insanity at best, and actively speeding up the process at worst, clueless what to do.

Hajime shook his head. It was the person who tried to kill him, he had to remind himself. The one who was ready to confuse them, mess with them, make them scared for their lives, actually risk their lives, all for the sake of a weird idea he still couldn’t completely understand. But he wanted to understand… no, needed to.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked again, still not sure why and for what. That phrase was… special for him, probably. Like a symbol, a memory of a kind, carefree boy who once helped him when he was in need. Approached him and tried to be his friend. He spent hours and days trying to figure out how much of that boy was real, and how much was just a twisted, cruel lie. And how he was still looking at him. Nagito’s eyelids twitched slightly in a barely noticeable motion, as if he was seeing a dream.

What he was dreaming of? Was it a happy and hopeful world, or the one where they all burned in hell, dragged there by Monokuma’s claws? Hajime wished to know it.

“I brought you something,” he suddenly spoke, opening a box hesitantly. Inside was a mechanical hand, fancy, cold and shiny. “I asked Kazuichi to make this for you… Convincing the Future Foundation to allocate resources for this was pain in the ass, Makoto said,” he added with a slight smile. He imagined Nagito with shining eyes, clapping his hands and gushing about how great Makoto, The True Ultimate Hope is, and it was enough to elicit a soft giggle.

“And, um, these are from me,” Hajime said hesitantly, putting the hand on the table near the pod and taking out what was underneath it. “These are books. After you wake up, we would have to place you under watch until we’re convinced you aren’t immediate threat to yourself and others… so you’ll probably need them for a while,” he explained with a soft smile. Nagito still didn’t react, without the slightest movement on his face, but Hajime was ready to swear he now looked at him slightly mockingly.

“Hey, you would be more grateful if you knew how hard was to get these on this damn island. There’s no convenient, perfectly-organized library with everything in excellent condition waiting for you,” he spoke with slight annoyance, but the soft smile never left his face. “These are detective books… Figured out you’d like them from looking around your cottage…” – he frowned slightly, trying not to think about the context of that visit. “Although I have no idea if you do like them or just used them to create and solve all those mysteries…” – he sighed. He probably was just overthinking. Nagito was just a person, he had to remind himself. A person who was allowed to just like and dislike some things.

If Hajime was more open to the thought that he was not as incomprehensible as he seemed from the beginning, the story could’ve ended differently.

This time, it will end differently…!

“Hope we’ll get to enjoy them soon together,” Hajime said, putting the hand back in the box and leaving it besides the pod. “I would read them for you now, but that would be too stupid, right…?” he asked, looking at the other boy, who was still lying there, quiet and motionless and unable to answer… but alive. Breathing and thinking. His face still didn’t move an inch, and the expression of sadness was surely just Hajime’s all-too-vivid imagination, amplified by stress and overworking himself…

“Okay, okay. Just one chapter, no more,” he said with a sigh, opening the book and thinking what he would say to Mikan and Kazuichi when they would eventually ask what took him so long.

---

Nagito’s consciousness was drifting in and out, as his weak and broken and failing body was clinging to its life desperately when all his mind wanted was a swift, merciful end. He didn’t even have the energy to convince himself it was what should’ve happened to people like him, to those who are too weak and too easy to break and drag to despair – he was just wishing, pleading, begging for it to stop already. Even now, his limbs continued to try to jerk away from the fire, all the pathetic attempts at motion with muscles that shouldn’t be able to move prolonging the pain that should’ve ended long ago.

Flashes of agony were followed by periods of numbness, while he was drifting away in daze, feeling like his body no longer belonged to him. It probably didn’t, as he couldn’t recall the last time when he was moving consciously, by his own free will… Right now he was feeling nothing except the pressure of the metal that got a bit stronger as he took each breath, and a bit weaker as he let it out. He tried to ignore it, to not think about what was causing it.

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

The voice in his head was all too clear, way closer and louder than the music, and the fire, and his own quiet muffled screams. It was Hajime’s voice, he recognized immediately. The voice he was searching for for so long… Of course, Hajime couldn’t have been that close. It was his imagination running wild, he knew it, but he still found the strength to feel a little grateful for this small gift from his delirious consciousness. He was living in delusions for so long, so why not allow himself that weakness one more time?

“Are you okay?” the voice repeated, now even closer, and he could’ve sworn he felt someone leaning over him if he didn’t know for a fact it was not possible, unless Hajime somehow found out the new talent of running through the fire and breathing highly toxic substances without any harm to his sweet, calming voice. “You look like you’re hurt, is it your hand?” – the voice now was worried and concerned. His hand… He tried to twitch his fingers, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“Hey, open your eyes, I see you aren’t sleeping anymore.” – the voice became demanding, annoyed even. Hajime being annoyed and not worried or concerned, it seemed like his delusions started to fit into reality a bit more, imitating it better. He sighed, and it suddenly made him realize he wasn’t screaming anymore.

He obeyed, opening his eyes, and immediately squinted from the bright light, instinctively covering his eyes with his left hand. His left hand… for some reason, it wasn’t tied up or injured anymore, he noticed as he slowly got used to the light. Hajime was leaning over him slightly, his face worried and uncertain. He wasn’t lying on the floor in the warehouse, that thought was slow to come and hard to sink in, but the floor beneath him was warm and soft, there was no knife and no spear in his flesh, and not a single drop of his blood was shed there anymore. His body wasn’t too numb to the pain – there was just no pain, and that feeling was so alien and unfamiliar it almost made him feel dizzy from the sudden switch.

“You must be so confused right now,” Hajime said quietly, as if he didn’t want to scare him off. Nagito blinked, and looked at his hand… It wasn’t his anymore, and realizing that evoked a flash of memories, distant and not so distant, forgotten and not so forgotten.

Hope’s Peak Academy. Chiaki Nanami, lying in a pool of her own blood. Junko Enoshima. The Tragedy. Neo World Program. Fixing what they’d done and giving the world’s future back to it… These words and concepts were familiar, but not enough to make total sense.

“Probably more confused than I was there on the beach,” Hajime spoke again, this time with a nostalgic smile. The beach and the killing game, those were the parts he remembered all too well, but still failed to make sense of. “But don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything. After a mandatory physical and mental health check up, of course…” – he smiled awkwardly.

Nagito wasn’t sure how to respond, with so many emotions twisting in his head to the point where he was unable to feel any of them properly. He probably should’ve been mad, enraged that his scheme failed, if Hajime was still alive… But for now he thought he should just obey until he knows more.

Hajime reached out his hand, smiling.

If it was reality, he could gladly accept this reality.

If it wasn’t, he would enjoy whatever his mind prepared until it gets crushed, to make the suffering from seeing it crumble more deserved.

But Hajime seemed so real, more real than on the beach, more real than anything he had seen in his life.

Nagito reached back and allowed him to grab his hand.

[ampmiscfiles]

Let Us Love You: Chapter 9

Start From The Beginning

Sam checked in with FRIDAY before entering the elevator. Ever since his tentative...whatever....with Peter had started, he had been taking extra care to avoideveryonewhen leaving and reentering the tower whenever he saw him. While blockers kept an individual smells hidden from random  people, there had been cases of mates sometimes being able to pick up hints of each other's smells anyway. Since Sam was a beta, Peter's scent never meant anything to him, and he hadn't even smelt anything from him lately. Hoever, with two super soldiers with enhanced senses in the tower, Sam didn't want to chance the lack of scent just being him. He had made a promise to keep their interactions secret, and he intended to keep it.

The two were slowly getting to know each other. For Sam, everything about Peter was new, but for Peter, it more so a game of similarities and differences.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying getting to know him. Peter was a genuinely good person, and if things every worked out between him and the others, he could be a valuable asset to the team.

The public sure seemed to love him.

Something that seemed to amuse Peter greatly for some odd reason.

Still, Sam avoided talking about his fellow teammates like the plague. He desperately wanted to ask more about Peter's past with the, rightfully dubbed, "Evil Avengers", but didn't want to overstep.

“Dr. Banner has entered the common area.” FRIDAY answered.

“Ok. Bruce is clear.” Sam replied.

Bruce was probably the only person in the tower he didn’t have to worry about. There was no way he’d pick up on Peter’s scent, nor would it even matter since he was a beta and not romantically interested in Peter.

Also, he was the only other person in the tower Peter seemed comfortable talking about.

Peter had held a lot of respect for the Bruce Banner of his world. So much so that Sam had taken up teasing him about being a Bruce Banner fan boy.

Interesting enough, Peter seemed to be an even bigger fan boy here.

The Bruce Banner of his world lost a lot of his freedoms and abilities to do research after the Avengers turned and trapped him, so eventually Peter had run out of research papers to read.

Here though, here Bruce was continuing to put out papers, and Peter was consuming them at an alarming rate.

Maybe he could bring Bruce to meet Peter one night.

Bruce had displayed plenty of interest in getting to talk to Peter, and Peter had definitely displayed his own.

Yeah, maybe Peter wouldn’t hate him if he brought Bruce.

“Hey, Bru-“ Sam’s greeting stopped short as a very disgruntled Bruce Banner lay on one of the couches, taking deep breaths.

“Uh…everything ok?”

“If by ok you mean I won’t Hulk out, then you should know I’m straddling a thin line right now. I can’t go back to the lab or the line will break.” Bruce huffed.

Sam grimaced at Bruce’s obvious efforts to calm himself were only marginally working.

“We’ll, I’m going out. Wanna join me? Maybe getting out of here will help?”

Bruce paused, lifting his head to look at Sam. The green tint to his eyes started to fade as he considered the option.

“You know, maybe that’s a good idea.”

Sam grinned as Bruce stood up.

Peter was gonna freak, and hopefully in a good way.

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

“When did you start coming here?” Bruce asked. “It’s a bit out of the way for us.”

“It’s what I needed. With the raging alpha hormones, I wanted to be as far away as possible.” Sam sighed before smirking.

“Plus, I get a little private bonus for coming here.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he followed Sam into the rowdy bar.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Bruce frowned, uncomfortable with all the people.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be clearing out soon.”

Bruce continued to frown, but followed Sam to the bar anyway. As they sat down, a muscular black man stood in front of them. He raised an eyebrow as he took in the sight on Bruce.

“Taking a real chance there, Wilson.”

Bruce looked up as Luke Cage moved in front of them.

“I’m aware.” Sam nodded. “But I’m pretty confident it’s gonna be fine.”

The man shrugged before setting Sam’s usual down and asking what Bruce wanted.

“Just water please, I’m not really a drinker.” Bruce winced.

“Strange to come to a bar for water, but to each their own, Banner.”

“I didn't know you ran a bar.”

“It's pretty low key. Mostly just known here in the Kitchen. Anyway, when you come back, leave Wilson at home next time.”

Sam choked on his drink as Luke laughed, moving on down the bar after giving Bruce his water.

“Jerk.” Sam muttered, no bite to his words.

“How long have you been coming here?” Bruce asked.

“About a month or so now. Couple of nights a week depending on certain factors."

“How have we not noticed you’ve been going out so much?” Bruce asked.

"Well, in your defense Bruce, you're usually tied up in some sort of research and buried in the lab."

"Don't talk about the lab." Bruce grunted. "That is a terrible subject at the moment."

"That's only raising my curiosity."

Bruce huffed as he took a sip of his water.

"Let's just say that Tony is in big trouble for the foreseeable future."

Sam laughed as he patted Bruce on the back.

"Just let me and Clint know what we need to do for you. Clint's been dying to have a go at Tony since he rigged one of his arrows with confetti during training."

The two continued talking, Sam occasionally taking note of the fact the crowd was thinning out quickly. As it neared the time Peter would most likely come from the back, Sam turned to Bruce with a serious expression.

"I'm gonna tell you something Bruce, but you've gotta keep it a secret."

"Is this something that could get us in some sort of trouble?" Bruce asked wearily.

"......no? Maybe? Probably? Yeah, definitely." Sam shrugged with a smile. "But if it makes you feel better, you'll be getting an immeasurable up on Tony."

Bruce raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Okay.....what's the big secret?"

"The drinks and distance from the tower aren't the only reasons I come here."

"Are you seeing someone Sam?" Bruce asked. "You know you don't have to keep it a secret from us."

"Oh, I'm 'seeing' someone alright, and I do have to keep it a secret and now you will too."

"Why-"

"Hey Sam!"

Bruce's head snapped up in surprise as a smiling Peter Parker walked over, clearly not noticing Bruce's presence.

"Hey, Pete." Sam smiled nervously. "I..um...hope you don't mind that I brought a friend? I told him the rule of meeting you."

Peter frowned as his eyes moved to the person next to Sam, then choked on air.

"D-Dr Banner!" Peter gasped.

Bruce just looked between Peter and Sam in shock, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. How had Sam managed to get close to Peter without anyone knowing?

"H-hi." Bruce stumbled, holding out his hand and praying he wasn't going to have to kill Sam.

He knew how protective the Defenders could be when it came to Peter, and he had no desire to have trouble.

Peter stared a moment before grasped his outstretched hand and began shaking it excitedly.

"I know I should be upset and throw you out Sam, but I'm to busy having a mental freakout at the fact I'm meeting Dr. Banner properly as opposed to when he rescued me from prison."

"Y-yeah." Bruce grimaced at the memory of the last time he had physically seen Peter. "I didn't know they were gonna do that...."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that." Peter smirked, pulling back his hand. "I've never seen someone look so...done with people."

"We may be a pack," Bruce sighed. "But I know stupid when I see it."

Peter laughed as Bruce ran his hand down his face.

"If you have time Dr. Banner, I'd love to get to talk to you. I have so many questions about your work. I've been pouring through your research papers and I've wanted to pick your brain so bad!"

Bruce blinked in surprise at Peter's eager face.

"Careful Bruce," Sam grinned. "Peter's a total fanboy."

"I'm not ashamed to admit that, Wilson." Peter scoffed.

"Well," Bruce said slowly, unsure how Peter would take what he was about to say. "I can't deny I've been wanting to talk to you either. I'm fascinated by your abilities. I mean, I've seen videos of you getting hurt pretty badly, then be out the very next day seemingly fine."

"Tell you what, Dr. Banner." Peter grinned. "We close in a bit. If you guys aren't looking to leave soon, maybe we can talk more. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Deal." Bruce smiled.

Sam smiled in satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. He had been nervous to bring Bruce. He didn't know how Peter would handle it. Despite the fact Peter knew Bruce was a beta, and uninterested in the dynamics that came between alphas and omegas, he was still a part of the pack. Looking at him now though, he knew he had definitely made the right call by bringing Bruce. Peter got to fanboy over the one Avenger he had even seemed remotely okay with from the beginning and gain a new friend, not to mention Bruce finally had someone other than Tony to talk science with.

Speaking of Tony, he still wanted to know what the man had done to nearly cause Bruce to lose it.

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

It was after Luke and Peter closed down the bar that Sam finally got his answer. Peter's praise of Bruce's work ultimately led to Bruce admitting what happened between him and Tony.

He blew up half the lab!" Bruce growled. "Four months of my research gone in a few seconds!"

Peter gasped in outrage.

"Four months worth?" he shouted. 'What was he doing?

"I don't even know!" Bruce groaned. "One minute everything was fine and then the next, half the lab was on fire!"

Sam struggled to hold his laughter in. He hated Bruce lost his research, but Tony was gonna have to fork out some major money to fix the area, and do some major groveling to earn Bruce's forgiveness.

For once, Sam wished he and Bruce could tell the others about meeting up with Peter. That would really stick it to Tony if Bruce could let that little gem slip.

"I'm really sorry about that Dr. Banner." Peter frowned. "I would be furious too. I'm saddened at the loss of, what I'm sure, was something amazing."

"Not much I can do about it now." Bruce sighed in defeat. 'I'll just have to start over and please, Peter, call me Bruce."

"Wow. Ok, Bruce! I wish I could help." Peter said dreamily. "I'd love the chance to say I got to work with Dr. Bruce Banner!"

"Hey! What about the fact you get to be friends with The Falcon?" Sam huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm pretty cool to, you know."

"Sure, sure, Sam." Peter smirked, waving Sam off.

"I can't believe this. Here I bring you your man crush, Banner, and this is how you repay me?"

Peter laughed, ignoring Sam's disgruntled muttering as he turned back to Bruce.

"So, you have questions for me?"

"Y-yes! If you don't mind talking about your abilities that is."

"No, it's ok." Peter smiled. "To be honest, I've never really gotten the opportunity to study myself on a molecular level. I can tell you everything I can do, and the fact I've noticed myself acting spider like at times." A slight blush rose to Peter's cheeks at that admission.

"Oh, what's with the blush Parker?" Sam grinned, leaning forward.

"N-nothing!" Peter answered quickly.

"No. I refuse to ignore this. Again, I brought Banner! Let's hear it."

Peter sighed, taking a sip of the coke he had.

"I....I was pretty....pretty turned on once by a woman I knew. She was pulling a con at a strip club. I went to catch her and she caught me in the audience and....her dance.....well.....you know, there are species of spiders that are seduced by...dancing? I don't exactly know what the spider that bit me was.....but I know it was genetically altered...possibly even crossbred-"

"Wait! Are you telling me this woman danced her way into your pants?" Sam snickered as Peter's face turned red.

"I couldn't help it! I was practically in a trance! But no, we didn't get that far. The Avengers attacked the club before I could get her alone. I'm not sure how it would have gone if I did."

"That's....that's something." Bruce stumbled. "Not to be a downer Peter, but you should probably keep an eye on that."

"Yeah," Peter puffed out. "Not exactly good to be an omega getting horny just by watching someone dance for them."

"You a horn dog for dancers now, Jones?"

The three men's heads shot up as a smirking Jessica Jones pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Jones?" Bruce asked, looking at Peter.

"Yeah," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can't exactly be Peter Parker here. So I'm-"

"My lesser good looking cousin." Jessica cackled.

"How have you not told me this yet?" Sam asked, shooting Peter a pointed look.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"My last name is Jones now."

"I hate you."

Peter laughed as Jessica turned to Bruce.

"Luke told me Peter had been meeting up with Wilson here, but how'd you get drug into this?"

"I almost lost control at the tower when Tony blew up my research." Bruce deadpanned.

Jessica blinked at him, silent for a moment before bursting out laughing.

"I bet Stark was shitting his pants!"

"He disappeared pretty quickly." Bruce sighed.

"Well, I hate to break up the party, but we've got plans. Come on you two." Luke said, strolling up to the table and pointing at Peter and Jessica.

"Matt just called, Karen's on her way to the hospital. Looks like the kid is making an early appearance."

Peter and Jessica jumped up, scooping up the glasses on the table and putting them behind the bar for clean up tomorrow.

"Give the happy couple our best, Pete." Sam smiled, following the trio out the door.

"I will. Dr. Banner, it was an honor to officially meet you! Please come back. You don't have to bring Sam." Peter said, shaking Bruce's hand with a grin.

"You keep talking and neither one of us are coming back." Sam said, crossing his arms.

"I'd be so devastated at the loss of your presence." Peter said flatly.

"You would be. I'm great company, you ass."

Peter grinned, making to respond before Luke cut in.

"Cut the chit chat, Jones, we gotta go."

"Coming! Well, later guys! I got a nephew to meet!"

"Nephew?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be 'Uncle Peter' whether Matt agrees or not. It was already approved by Karen. Anyway, later! Thanks for breaking the code, Sam! I can forgive you because you brought Dr. Banner!"

"Call me Bruce!" Bruce shouted as Peter ran off with a wave.

Once he was out of sight, Bruce spun to Sam with wide eyes.

"How could you be seeing Peter behind everyone's backs! If they found out, they'd kill you!"

"It was a complete accident I found him." Sam said, holding up his hands in defense. "I was just wanting a drinking hole far from the tower. I knew this was Luke's place so I stopped in. I had no idea Peter was working here part time."

"Are you not worried about his blockers failing? We don't exactly pick up on any omega or alpha scents like they do."

"I just have FRIDAY let me know where everyone is when I get back and I go straight to the shower and then run my clothes under the water before burying them in the laundry. Even if Steve and Buck enter my room, there's no smell to pick up."

"Wow." Bruce said, letting out a breath. "Have you ever gotten as close to Peter as you did tonight? I mean, was there always the bar between you?"

"Yeah, so we're gonna have to be a little more careful tonight. It's pretty late though, so everyone should be asleep. Not that I think anyone would be approaching you considering the fact that, by now, I'm sure everyone's heard there was an accident in the lab."

"Don't remind me." Bruce groaned. "Now I have to wait for Tony to rebuild before I can even restart my work."

The two walked to where Sam had parked, sliding into the seats before Bruce spoke again.

"Do you think I could ever get Peter to the lab? He said he wanted to work with me, and I could catch up a lot faster with a mind like his."

"I think you know the answer to that, Bruce. Peter's not going anywhere near the tower."

"Yeah." Bruce frowned. "It was just a thought."

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

"Are you really ok with Wilson having brought Banner?" Jessica asked, turning around in the front seat to look back at Peter.

"Well, I don't have much of an option now, but yeah. Bruce wasn't a bad guy in my world. He's the only Avenger I don't have a problem with. He was just as much a victim as everyone else."

"You don't think he'll spill to the others?"

"Honestly, no. He helped me leave the tower that time, plus Sam told him the deal, and Sam's yet to rat me out."

"As far as you know." Luke said, looking the the rearview. "I'm not saying I don't trust Wilson. To tell the truth, I don't think he'd tell them, unless he didn't have a choice. Just be careful, kid."

The car was silent the rest of the way to the hospital. Each person lost in thought.

"Well, here we are kids." Jessica said as they pulled into the parking lot. "Is Rand here?"

"Yeah, he's how called. He was with Matt when Karen went into labor."

"He better not think he's holding the baby before me." Peter huffed, climbing out the back.

"Relax, 'Uncle Peter', we all know the pecking order." Jessica said, rolling her eyes. "But I'm after you."

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

Danny met them as they got out the elevator.

"Karen's still in delivery. I've never seen Matt as serious as he was when Karen called, and that's saying something given his general demeanor when he's out." he grinned.

"Devil Dad Mode activated." Peter laughed.

"He's gonna be such a pain." Jessica grumbled.

"He's not hitting the field any time soon." Luke said, crossing his arms. "He wonn't be in any mental state to be of any use."

"No new parent-"

"No, Pete." Danny said, cutting him off. "I'm sure parents were protective in your world, but this is a completely different deal. Alphas are fiercely protective of their babies and omegas. Karen's comfort level with you and us was the only reason Matt was as calm as he was during Karen's pregnancy. He knew he could count on us. This though, this will be different. If Matt even lets us in the room."

Peter frowned. It seemed like he was constantly learning something new.

"So you mean, we came here for nothing?"

"No, we came here as support. Even if Matt doesn't let us in, knowing we were here will mean something to both him and Karen."

"I'll never get to hold my nephew!" Peter pouted, throwing himself into a chair and crossing his arms. "I didn't have any siblings, so this is as close as I'm gonna get."

"Relax, drama queen." Jessica said, falling into the seat next to him. "You'll get your chance eventually."

"This world is stupid. All these hormones are on my nerves."

"Oh?" Jessica smirked. "Just wait till you get back there and those omega instincts you try to keep buried kick in."

"What?"

"You telling us you haven't felt even the slightest bit overprotective of Karen?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, we all know you and her haven't exactly been getting along with her encouraging you to get to know the Avengers, and yet you still go over to Matt's apartment and sit with her whenever you're not working. Hell, you've even had her come stay the night at your place when Matt's gone out for a long night."

"So? Friends don't always have to get along you know." Peter scoffed.

"No, but don't sit there and deny you've gotten over a lot with Karen faster than normal during her pregnancy." Danny smirked.

"That has nothing to do with anything other than not wanting to stress her out!"

"Well, you didn't see any of us throwing the offer out." Jessica grinned smugly.

"None of that has anything to do with my stupid omega status. I would have done that regardless. Karen and Matt are my friends."

"Sure, Pete." Three voice said at once.

"I hate all of you."

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

Bruce fidgeted as they got closer to the tower.

"You gotta calm down man. At this rate your nerves will be picked up more than anything else." Sam warned.

"I'm just not in any mood to be discovered. I wanna be able to meet with Peter again."

"I've been doing this long enough, Bruce. Just do what I told you. I'll get us to the rooms, you go shower and rinse out your clothes." Sam soothed, not at all worried about being found out.

As he turned to pull into the parking garage, he slammed on the breaks. Standing in the open was a disappointed Steve and a guilty looking Tony.

"What are they doing here?" Bruce asked, eyes wide.

"Well, judging by Steve's face, I'm pretty sure you're about to get a rare Tony Stark apology."

"You think Steve will smell anything? I mean, could we be over estimating him and Bucky? I mean, Peter was wearing his blockers and there are a lotof other smells in the bar...Jessica! She sat at the table with us! If we smell like anyone, we'd smell like her!" Bruce said, panic leaking through.

"Hang on, Bruce."

"Wha-"

Bruce cut off as Sam threw the car into reverse and sped through the parking garage backwards.

"What are you doing!" Bruce shouted, gripping the dashboard with white knuckles.

"I think I'd like to joyride a little longer." Sam said, flying out the the garage and spinning out onto the street.

"There could have been people coming!"

"This is the back of the tower. If someone was coming through here I'd have questions." Sam replied, merging into traffic.

The two were silent as they calmed their racing hearts.

"Sam-"

The two jumped as Sams phone starting ringing, Steve's name flashing across the screen.

"What are we gonna tell them?" Bruce groaned.

"Easy." Sam smirked. "That you weren't quite ready to deal with Tony yet."

"Well, at least we have a chance of them believing that."

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

Tony and Steve stood in the garage, stunned as they watched Sam peel out of the parking lot, backwards.

"You saw that too, right Capsicle?" Tony asked.

"Yeah." Steve replied, flabbergasted. "I didn't even know Sam could drive like that."

"So, does this mean I don't have to issue Brucie Bear that apology?"

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

Peter smiled widely as he pushed open the door to Karen's room. From where he stood, he could see Matt hovering over Karen and the baby like the overprotective alpha he was.

"Hey, Peter." Karen smiled, looking up at him.

"Did you all fight for entry order?" Matt asked, lifting his head.

"They can fight." Peter shrugged. "But I was always gonna be first."

Karen chuckled, motioning for him to come closer.

Peter moved to the side of the bed, surprised by the lack of aggression from Matt that the others had warned him about.

"You're an omega Peter, you're non-threatening to an alpha and their omega and pup."

"I could be threatening." Peter pouted.

Matt scoffed.

"Please, Pete. You've damn near matched me in worry and protectiveness at times."

"I'm intimidation!"

"You're adorable. Now get over here and meet your nephew." Karen giggled.

"He's not an uncle." Matt said flatly.

"You're right." Peter nodded. "I'm not an uncle, I'm the uncle!"

Matt snorted before giving a smirk and turning back to Karen and the baby.

"So, what can I call this little guy?"

"Jack. Jack Murdock." Karen said, running a finger down the baby's chubby cheek.

Peter's eyes snapped up to Matt. He knew Matt's dad had went by the nickname "Jack" before being murdered by a sleazy mobster for refusing to take a dive during a boxing match.

At least, the Matt's dad of his world had.

Matt gave a small nod before running a finger down Jack's face

"Want to hold him?"

Peter looked up in surprise, eyes darting from Karen to Matt.

"Pick the pup up, Parker." Matt grunted.

Peter grinned as he carefully lifted Jack out of Karen's arms.

"Hey, Jack, I'm your Uncle Peter. You're lucky that I happen to have had the best of the best uncle role models to learn from. My Uncle Ben helped raise me. He's a big part of who I am today. I hope to be even half as good of an uncle to you as he was to me."

As Peter carried on talking to their pup, Karen watched them. Peter was a natural with kids apparently. She had a suspicion that it had nothing to do with his omega status either.

She let out a little breath as she made up her mind. She wouldn't push Peter any more after today. She had heard that he had started up a tentative friendship with Sam Wilson, so she decided to back off and let him come to her whenever he had questions. Peter was an adult, and she had a pup to take care of. She had to let go of worrying about Peter.

"Deep thoughts?" Matt asked her.

"Just thoughts." Karen smiled, leaning in to Matt's touches as he ran his fingers through her hair.

After a little while of talking to Jack as though he understood everything coming out of his mouth, Peter was forced to give the little pup back to Karen as he began to get a little fussy.

"Time to eat, huh?" Karen giggled, positioning herself.

"I'll leave you both to it." Peter said, backing towards the door to given Karen her privacy.

"Hey, Pete." Matt said, voice tight.

"Yeah?"

"Tell the others no more visitors tonight."

"You got it."

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

"So let me get this straight," Jessica started with narrowed eyes. "You get to go in and have baby time, but we are getting sent home?"

"I thought you were expecting that?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

"Relax Pete," Danny smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "We did expect it."

"Matt can be salty even on the best days." Luke smirked.

"I'm gonna get my hands on that pup soon." Jessica nodded, face determined.

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

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, watching as buildings went by.

"I have no idea." Sam sighed. "I was just driving."

"How long should we stay away you think?"

"Well, considering the state of the lab, Tony's got no choice but to actually sleep tonight, so probably not much longer."

Bruce's head fell back against the headrest as Sam turned down a road and started making the return trip towards the tower. As frustrating as have to avoid Tony as Steve was, Bruce wouldn't deny he was happy to have gotten to talk to Peter. There was so much he wanted to ask, but he didn't know what to say and not say. There were a few times he had caught Peter looking at him as though he weren't really seeing him.

"Thinking hard doc?" Sam grinned.

"What happened to me in Peter's world?"

Silence filled the car as Bruce waited.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just the way Peter acted sometimes when I talked."

Sam sighed and rubbed his chin.

"Peter...he uh....he has an extremely soft spot for you...maybe even more than the copies of me and Bucky, and they were his best friends!"

"Why?"

"He felt sorry for you."

Bruce blinked in surprise as Sam gripped the steering wheel.

"What made him feel sorry for the me of his world?"

"He said.....he said you weren't really with the Avengers. He said they kept you prisoner, only letting you out when they needed Hulk. He respected your research and hated what they did to you."

Bruce was quiet as he turned to watch the city pass. The Bruce of Peter's world had had to live his ultimate fear. Being locked up and having Hulk be let loose like a monster had always been something in the back of his mind, but never something he would have thought the Avengers would do.

"Look, Bruce," Sam started. "I want you to know, that's never gonna hap-"

"I know." Bruce smiled tightly. "I do know, but I can't help thinking about how that Bruce must have felt."

"Yeah. The more I learn, the more I'm glad Peter did what he did. Having gotten to talk to him, I do hate the idea of him having not survived, but those copies couldn't continue on like that."

"I'm wondering what happened to send Peter here though." Bruce frowned. "A bomb shouldn't have tossed him into another universe."

"Bruce, with all that we've seen, I'm not above believing anything."

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

Natasha raised as eyebrow as she stepped into the kitchen the next morning. Tony was slumped over the bar countertop while Steve rummaged around, slowly gathering supplies for breakfast.

"Rough night?"

"Sam wouldn't let me talk to Bruce! They were gone all night. They even left the tower again when they saw me and Cap waiting on them in the parking garage."

"I'd avoid you to if you set my research back by four years." Natasha snorted. "Maybe Bruce just didn't want to hear your apology so Sam didn't give you the chance."

"Since when does Brucie Bear go out?" Tony huffed.

"Hmm, a friend helping out a friend....you're right, it's suspicious as hell." Natasha deadpanned.

"I wonder where Sam took him." Steve said, cracking eggs into a pan. "If Bruce enjoyed it, maybe we should all go."

"Go where?" Bucky asked, voice deep and raspy from sleep.

"Where ever Sam took Bruce last night after Tony blew the lab." Natasha smirked.

"Yes. It was a mighty explosion." Thor nodded, following Bucky into the kitchen.

"I get it. I messed up. For the record though, I was working on a gift for Peter." Tony scowled. "I don't see any of you doing anything to impress our headstrong omega."

No one replied.

"So......did uh....did you lose your work?" Steve asked with false casualty.

Tony looked at the super soldier flatly.

"Yes, Steve. Yes I did."

"It is clear that it was for the best then." Thor smiled, patting Tony on the back as he sat down next to him. "We can't have you blowing up our perfect little mate, now can we?"

Tony growled as Thor continued to smile, oblivious to the man's ire.

Natasha and Bucky tried to hide their smirks as they moved around the kitchen.

"Well then Goldilocks, what are your plans to help us woo our spider?" Tony ground out.

"Easy!" Thor smiled. "I shall take a more direct approach."

"We were specifically told not to do that, Thor." Steve frowned, looking up from where he was making eggs.

"Yes, but I do not plan to do more than make my intentions towards him known. You see, I simply wish to let him know of my respect and desire to earn his trust and affection. As a royal of Asgard, it is important to learn how to speak to people diplomatically. "

"Oh, I see that going over splendidly." Tony rolled his eyes before freezing. "You know what, let me know when you decide to do this. I'd just love to be there."

"Very well friend! I shall let you know once I have spoken to Ka-"

"Good luck with that." Sam chuckled, walking in and going to the refrigerator. "Karen had baby Murdock last night. You guys won't be getting anywhere near her any time soon."

"How do you know that?" Natasha asked, studying Sam closely.

Sam, despite his efforts to remain passive, flinched at her tone.

"You know. Word gets around the hero community."

"Did you hear this from wherever you took Bruce last night?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing him arms.

"Look," Sam huffed. "I took Bruce out last night to get him away from Fire Marshall Bill over there. We went to a small bar and ran into Jessica Jones and she got the call while talking to us. That's how I know."

"Well, we should at least send over a gift." Steve said, turning from the stove and scooping out eggs and bacon onto plates.

"You're like the mother of this team Rogers." Tony said blandly. "Are you sure you're an alpha?"

"You've never complained before." Steve challenged.

"Nope. No way. Not happening in front of the food." Sam glared, grabbing two plates and stomping out of the alpha filled kitchen.

"FRIDAY, take me to Bruce."

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

Sam tried to hold back his laugh as a disgruntled Bruce Banner stood in the doorway of his room. The man's sleep clothes were rumpled and crooked. His hard stuck up in various directions and there were bags under his eyes.

"Shut-up."

Sam's laugh burst out as Bruce snatched the plate of food out his hand and moved into his room.

"Hey, be grateful you didn't have to go down there and get that."

"Why?"

"They were all in the kitchen, well, minus Clint."

Bruce frowned, looking over at the clock.

"It's time for breakfast. He doesn't miss breakfast."

"No I don't, so share."

Sam and Bruce jumped as the archer tumbled out the vent to Bruce's floor.

"The hell man?" Sam shouted.

"I was hoping to hear where you two went last night!" Clint defended.

"I just took Bruce out to get him away from Tony!"

"You could have invited me! Maybe I wanted to get away from Tony too."

"Why would you want to get away from Tony?" Bruce asked blankly.

"........"

"So....no reason."

"Come on! We're all betas here! We should stick together! I can't handle the Mopey Alpha Force."

Sam and Bruce sighed.

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

Peter stretched, back cracking from where he had spent the last few hours bent over his desk. Various disassembled electronics littered his room.

"Alright, let's see if I got it."

Slipping his mask on, he waited.

A few seconds later, his lenses filled with light as the screens in the lenses began to provide digital readouts of various things he looked at.

"So far so good." Peter mumbled before taking a deep breath.

"GWEN?"

"Hello, Peter. It is nice to finally get to talk with you."

Peter's face broke out into a wide grins as a soothing voice filled his ears.

It had worked.

His own AI.

"How do you feel?"

"That's a rather silly question, Peter. I can't feel anything. You should know this."

Peter's jaw dropped.

"Did I really program you with that much sass?"

"It appears that way....possibly. I have also been learning during the course of my construction. You surround yourself with a rather sarcastic crowd, Peter. Personally, I think I'm going to fit in just fine."

"Oh come on GWEN, you're supposed to be my support! You're supposed to be nice to me!" Peter pouted.

"If it makes you feel better, I love you, Peter."

It was odd that he could practically hear the smile in her voice.

"Thanks GWEN. I love you too." he chuckled.

"Are you planning to go out tonight? If you are, you should get some sleep. You've been working since you got back from the hospital."

"Yeah, I was pumped after meeting Jack plus, I'm anxious for our first date night." Peter grinned. " I'm gonna download some maps into your system so you can help me around the city. In the meantime, I'm gonna go shower then crash. No work today."

GWEN was silent as he removed his mask and shook out his hair. Placing it on his desk, he picked up his phone.

"GWEN?"

"Fully connected here as well Peter. Transfer between suit and phone was flawless. I'm rather proud."

Peter laughed, setting his phone back down the desk and plugging it into his computer.

"Alright GWEN, access the map files and download them. I'll be back."

GWEN didn't respond as Peter gathered his clothes and made his way toward the bathroom. He hadn't told anyone he had been working on an AI. He wasn't sure he was even going to be able to do it, so he didn't want to open himself up for interrogations for no reason.

Now though, now it was different.

GWEN was fully operational.

Prior to her completion, her infant programming had been hiding in his phone, learning as he went to the best of her constantly developing coding. This was her first verbal interaction and everything seemed to be running smoothly. Maybe he could integrate her into more things.

As loath as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny Tony Stark had made amazing use of his own AI. His short time at the tower proved the AI controlled a lot of things there. Bruce had been able to let him out with a simple verbal command. Maybe he could find a way to put GWEN into his own apartment. Having an all seeing AI guarding him wouldn't be such as bad idea. It didn't much matter that he was more than capable of taking care of himself, being an unmated omega all alone only seemed to invite trouble.

Even more loathsome, was the annoying and tiny voice in the back of his head wishing to be able to go to Avengers' Tower and actually pick Tony Stark's brain about A.Is.

Peter scoffed as the warm water washed over him and he smothered out the voice. This world, while it had so many things he was happy with, there were many things he wasn't.

Being an omega came with so many limitations. Despite his capabilities, his strength and intelligence, neither of which he could or was allowed to display, the mere label of 'omega' meant more than anything.

Sure, omegas were able to hold down jobs, the best paying being OBGYN's since that was the only medical position society deemed appropriate for omegas, and oddly enough, omega's alone. Still, those omegas that took on the job, weren't well favored as they were also viewed as "unfit" companions.

Honestly, being an omega in the work industry was just weird as hell. You can work, but your options are limited. You can work, but certain jobs cause you problems. You can work, just take whatever job is the most favorable for flying under the radar.

Thanks to the omegas at Xavier's for their generous donations of the most powerful blockers to exist. Still, working for Luke and Jessica were the only real places that he felt comfortable. He was able to hide his second gender and they sure as shit didn't care. They paid, and they paid under the table to avoid any official paperwork trail. An omega working in a bar or doing detective work was unheard of!

Sighing, he got to the shower and toweled off, slipping into some sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading to the small kitchen. His apartment was far from extravagant. It was a small, one bedroom flat. Danny had helped him get it, paying the deposit and first three months rent while Luke and Jessica got him settled into his new positions. He had tried to deny Danny's help, but the man had been firm and unrelenting, causing Peter to swear to pay him back, something Danny had thought hysterical.

Making quick work of a ham and cheese sandwich, Peter walked back to his room, face planting onto the bed.

"Map files are uploaded, Peter. Get some rest."

Peter smiled before sleep took him.

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

Karen looked up from where she was feeding Jack and smirked.

"You're fidgeting dear."

Matt huffed before standing and moving to her side.

"I don't 'fidget'."

"You fidget almost as much a Peter."

"No one could fidget anywhere near as much as Peter."

Karen chuckled, before looking out the window.

"I think I'm going to apologize to him."

Matt paused, just letting her think.

"I've been to pushy. I know his history with his Avengers, and I still pushed him to meet the ones here. I just worry about him. He's an unmated omega out in a world where being that very thing can be such a hassle. He's so independent that he'd have so many problems should those super blockers ever fail. Not to mention he's not even on suppressants because we don't know why he's not showing signs of typical omega cycles of heats. He's been here long enough to have had at least one."

Matt sighed, pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed.

"Your concern is valid, Peter just doesn't want it. Still, he needs a little push to get to know them. Whether he wants to acknowledge them as his alphas or not, he needs to, at least, be able to fight along side them without the distraction of constantly fearing them turning on us. We fight together often enough for that to be something he should work on."

"He wouldn't like hearing that any more than hearing me talk about his omega needs." Karen chuckled.

"I don't care." Matt replied. "His attention is split during fights. It makes him dangerous to himself and us."

Karen was silent as she continued to feed their pup.

"Well, what do you propose?"

"Right now, nothing. Approaching Peter out of the blue about it is only asking for trouble. It's something that needs to be lead up to."

"Just be careful. I'm on shaking ground with him. He's been caring towards me because of my pregnancy, but I know there's an annoyance there. Still, I think it's an easy to repair relationship once I tell him I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Matt chuckled. "He's to good hearted not to accept a sincere apology."

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

Thor took a breath. Being the God of Thunder, he rarely ever had any reason to feel nervous. Still, standing outside Jessica Jones' detective agency, he felt his nerves tingle.

Maybe he should have went to Danny or Luke. In hindsight, Jessica was most definitely the wrong choice. However, he was already here and it was important he be able to request a meeting with his omega, even if he had a chaperone during it.

Lifting his hand hesitantly, he went to knock on her door when a familiar thwip reached his ears.

Looking up, Thor watched as a very welcoming sight of blue and red swung overhead. He felt his face heat as he watched Peter somersault through the air with a loud 'whoop'. His omega's obvious happiness was a wonderful sound to his ears.

He watched until Peter swung out of sight and ran his hand down his face. To chase after him would only result in anger and aggression from the hero, but to not approach him at all only lengthened the lack of interaction and possible relationship building he and the other alphas wanted to do.

Why did the Avengers of Peter's world have to be such dishonorable and repulsive people?

"Can I help you, Captain Thunderpants?"

Thor startled as he turned to see a smirking Jessica Jones leaning against her open door frame.

"Oh, yes." Thor said, straightening himself. "I wish to speak with you."

"This wouldn't be about my favorite arachnid, would it? Don't tell him I called him that though, or I'll kill you."

"As a matter of fact, it would."

Jessica grinned mischievously as she motioned for him to come in.

"Better make it quick big guy. No guarantee Spider-Baby won't drop in, and I can't imagine he'd be overly excited to see you here."

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

Peter felt the adrenaline pumping through him. So far, GWEN had been operating perfectly. Her downloaded mapping system was working excellently, making quick work of getting to any crimes he picked up through the hacked police feed.

"You're a work of art GWEN."

"Are you seriously praising yourself, Peter?"

"Only marginally." Peter laughed. "I programed you to be self learning. I'm only hold so much responsibility for your amazingness."

"I'm not fully convinced this isn't you just bragging to yourself."

Peter just continued to laugh as he dove off the roof of the building he was on.

"No, patting myself on the back is what I'm really about to do. I wanna show you off. We gotta go visit someone."

"Ms. Jones is the closest of your approved contacts."

"I'll only feel a bit bad that Matt isn't who you'll meet first."

"I don't think meeting me is something he would be overly interested in right now."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Peter chuckled. "Alright GWEN, let's go pay my 'cousin' a visit."

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

"I have to say, choosing to wear your blockers is a very good start, High Voltage." Jessica said, throwing herself into a chair and snatching a bottle off the end table.

"I want to assure him I mean no harm."

"You do realize that'll take more than a few blockers, right?"

Thor frowned and sighed, settling into another chair.

"I am aware. Our dishonorable counterparts have done us a great disservice."

"Well, not entirely." Jessica shrugged. "I mean, they are the reason he's here so....."

"We're grateful he's here, we just don't like the circumstances of it."

"Understandable. Look, I'm the last person you should have come to for this. I'm not an omega, so I can't help you there. I also enjoy drama, so I'm salivating at all your struggles." Jessica threw him a wicked grin.

"That is both unsettling and disheartening." Thor grimaced.

Jessica chuckled, taking a swig from her bottle.

"Look, I get it, Karen is currently off limits. I also get that considering she's with Matt, there's no telling just how long she'll be unavailable, but I seriously can't help you."

Thor sighed again, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling.

"We worry about his health."

"So does Karen, but he seems to be doing fine. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't even be able to tell he was an omega. Those super strength blockers he got from the wonder bunch and Xavier's are amazing."

Thor didn't reply. While they had all caught on to the fact that Peter's scent seemed nonexistent, that had had no idea why. It had begun to scare them. It was a relief to find out his scent was just completely muffled.

"Tell you what Thunder God, I'll offer you a question. Have any of you tried just making yourself available?"

Thor raised an eyebrow in response.

"Like, going out at night and just sitting on random rooftops? Not pursuing him, just out and stationary."

"I hardly think that would matter. He never makes any attempt to approach us when there is a crowd, why would he do it alone?"

"Peter's a strange guy like that. Alone, he may have the security of being able to take you down, because, ya know, he can."

"Stark seeks to try to gain his attention through a gift."

"......a gift? Look, I know that a typical omega trait is to enjoy their alphas spoiling them, but Pete's not like that. Unless.....unless Stark's making some kind of fancy tech for him." Jessica said, rolling her eyes. "Pete's a real technology whore."

"Do not speak of my omega that way!" Thor roared, jumping up from his chair to tower over Jessica.

Jessica raised an eyebrow and went to open her mouth in challenge when the door to her office flew off the hinges and Thor slammed into the wall. Groaning, the god struggled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. Before he could orient himself, a fist slammed into his face.

"You should have stayed down!"

"Peter!" Jessica shouted, jumping up.

"I told you! I told you! They were just waiting!" Peter growled, throwing another punch.

"Peter! Stop! It's not what you think! He wasn't gonna hurt me!"

"Stop lying! It's only one of them! We can take him!"

"Peter!"

Peter gasped as Jessica's fist slammed into his cheek, knocking him back. Moving in front of the rising Thor, she turned to face that stunned vigilante.

"And I told you, it wasn't what you thought. He got mad because he thought I insulted you."

"So? That doesn't give him any right to be threatening towards you!'

"It's fine!"

Thor wisely watched in silence as the two friends faced off. He hadn't actually meant any harm to Jessica, but he knew Peter was protective of all his friends. If he had known there was a chance Peter would show up here, he would definitely have made sure not to overreact to Jessica's, he can admit, harmless joke. It was just so hard to hear anyone speak of Peter with such a casual air when they were so far from being able to.

He took in a breath when Peter ripped off his mask. His mask mused hair stood up at odd angles, and his face was flush with emotions. The pretty honey brown eyes were dark with betrayal and anger.

"Move, Jess. I'm gonna deal with this asshole once and for all!"

"Sorry, Pete, but you'll have to go through me to do it."

Peter froze, the color draining from his face. He knew from her posture, Jessica wasn't joking. She was actually willing to fight him to keep him from going after the Avenger.

"Jess......"

"You have to understand, Peter. This isn't your world and he's not your enemy. He's an ally."

Peter's eyes darted between Jessica and Thor before sadness replaced everything. Shoulders slumping, Peter pulled his mask back on, and left.

Once he was gone, Thor guiltily looked at Jessica's gloomy face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you such stress."

"It's ok." Jessica sighed, closing her eyes and running her hand down her face. "Pete's got a lot he needs to work on. I don't agree with Karen's methods, but she's honestly been trying more than the rest of us to get through to Peter. We've all taken the approach of just letting Peter see us interacting with you guys and hoping that seeing how comfortable everyone is, that that would eventually be enough."

"Perhaps I should have let him fight me."

"Are you serious?" Jessica shouted, turning on him. "None of you have seen how strong he really is!"

"But if I had let him fight me, I could have shown him how I don't mean any harm."

"You mean, let him beat the crap out of you?" Jessica scoffed.

"Yes. If I truly meant him harm, I would never just allow him to do that."

Jessica let out a breath as she studied Thor's face.

"There's no guarantee that would work. Peter could just kill you instead of taking your unwillingness to hurt him into consideration."

The two were silent for a while, both thinking over what had happened.

"I think I may have made things worse for the rest of us." Thor frowned, lowering his head.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Jessica shrugged. "He may be speaking to me for a little while though."

"I'm sorry."

"Eh. It's fine. I've been through worse than this. I hate it, sure, but I'm not going to dwell on it. That's Karen's department, and by extension, Matt's. Matt's kind of Peter's caretaker anyway since he's who he went to first."

"I should head home." Thor said, heading to the door.

"Why not do what I told you and hang out on a rooftop somewhere? Who knows, maybe he'll show up for that fight."

He nodded before leaving.

Jessica watched before her anger suddenly flared. Running out the door, she screamed up at the sky, knowing there was a good chance her target would hear.

"Hey! You're gonna pay to have my door fixed, cousin! You asshole!"

[stillness-in-green]

When we get back to the escaped Advisors (should be around 14-18 still around ...which is much large than I was expecting, tbh) I kinda hope that they're taking advantage of the current state of Japan to replenish their numbers with frustrated civilians. Maybe get a large enough force for a 2nd Jailbreak to free their leaders?

My current count stands at 4 advisors who we know for a fact escaped the initial net, 6 who we saw engage in combat but didn't see captured in the aftermath, and 5 who we just never saw at all, for a total of as many as 15 advisors who may be in the wind. We were also told 132 people escaped, but that number's only from the villa.

Presumably there were other escapees from around the country, and really, how many people with trained super powers do you need to successfully assault a non-island-based prison? I'd love to see or hear about a second jailbreak to spring more of their people; I'd equally love to see their movement gathering steam via new recruits.

(Beneath the cut, some hypothesizing about what PLF recruitment might look like right now, and my one caveat about the PLF re-entering the plot.)

It's interesting, because, on the one hand, the average civilian has enough reflexive bias against "villains" that even just being labeled villains hurts the PLF's recruitment chances, and that is certainly what the news will be calling them--associates of the infamous League of Villains, the organization behind Gigantomachia's mass destruction and the obliteration of Jakku. That will absolutely poison a great many people against them, both because that's what Hero Society does and because, well, they were outed as terrorists. Big surprise people will refuse to consider their perspective when all this death and destruction is said to be their fault!

On the other hand, it strikes me as being to the PLF's benefit that the HPSC and the heroes did so little--nothing at all, really--to spread any information about the PLF before the attack. Because they were a secret organization beforehand, no one really knew anything much about them. The best any given person on the street is going to know is a) whatever they'd heard about the League on the news, and b) whatever few things they might remember from their high school history lessons about villains from the early age of Heroes.

If the PLF can seize the opportunity, they have a window to get in and really spin a narrative about the current chaos. They could talk about the way that the power and number of heroes is dwindling now, yet repressive laws still require people to sit back and let their homes and families come under attack from opportunistic criminals. They could raise a huge and entirely justified stink about the dissolution of the HMP. They could talk about how they were attacked pre-emptively, about how all this destruction is the result of them acting in self-defense, and does not at all resemble what their plans had been. (That last one would be a flagrant manipulation of the facts, but, you know, they're under no obligation to be truthful.)

It'd be hard to get the kind of platform they need under normal circumstances, particularly if the government is trying to enforce any kind of ban on positive publicity for the PLF--a significant break from laws about freedom of the press, and outside the purview of even the highly controversial Subversive Activities Prevention Act, but then, so was the aforementioned HMP dissolution, and that doesn't seem to have prevented it. Skeptic, though, has shown that he is entirely capable of putting any message he damn well pleases across the airwaves nationwide with total impunity. Until the government can capture him or somehow revoke his access to his satellite (fat chance; I'm sure he has backdoors upon backdoors built into that thing's programming, assuming there are any non-arrested members of the Feel Good Inc. board to try to cut him out to begin with) there's really nothing stopping him from pulling that stunt again.

Of course, the PLF doesn't seem to be in touch with Skeptic at the present time, presumably because All For One doesn't give a damn about Tomura's army beyond whatever use they might be in helping him secure One For All. Which is also why we're unlikely to see a repeat of that stunt so long as Skeptic is stuck under his thumb with the remainder of the League. Sigh.

Still, even without the bully pulpit, we know the MLA was reaching people before, even if only the extremist fringe, the sorts of people who were drawn to conspiracy theories or doomsday scenarios, or the people who were already on the borders of acceptable society and who are now likely struggling more than ever. Deku's lucky that the heteromorph woman he saved was a pretty clear-cut innocent--imagine if she'd had something closer to Spinner's mentality and he tried to tell her that she was probably only attacked because people were scared (unspoken: of her and her kind)! Even though the PLF is primarily at fault for the current chaos by virtue of having been planning a bunch of terrorist attacks that the heroes were very reasonably trying to avert, I think they'd still be attracting people who're inclined to ask questions like, "Okay, but whose fault is it that this group felt driven to those extremes to begin with?" or, "Are the heroes even telling the truth about this? I wonder what the Paranormal Whatever League's side of the story is?" And yeah, I'd love to see the escapees from the raid(s) catalyze that support, get their shit together, and spring RD, Geten, and Trumpet from prison.

ON THE OTHER HAND, this all comes with one big, BIG caveat.

If all that the PLF springing their leaders from prison accomplishes is freeing up those leaders to get taken down in a series of single chapter fights by Deku or the rest of Class 1-A--or, god forbid, the Pro-Heroes again--then I'd actually rather we never hear another word about them again. Then at least I could tell myself whatever I wanted about their fate in the epilogue, you know? For the loyalty of the erstwhile MLA, for Re-Destro's fervent faith in Shigaraki, to be rewarded only by getting curb-stomped without a moment's regret by a teenager? A teenager who's going to spout a bunch of idealistic drivel that attempts but wildly fails to address the real issues the MLA has with the status quo? I think I'll just stick with my fanfic, thanks.