shakemyhorse

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #70

Danny and Damian are twins and they are unfortunately forced to fight each other for title of heir at the age of 5. Danny dies after losing and Talia desperately throws him into the lazurus pits. He doesn’t come back out.

5 years later they throw a one Jason Todd into the pit and he also doesn’t come back. But Danny does now 10 years old but he has white hair and glowing green eyes. Oh wait it’s back to normal black hair and blue eyes now. Talia is majorly confused and she grabs both of her sons to take them to live with their Father and gives Damian the order to protect Danny from harm.

Jason wakes up in front of two kids one wearing a red cap and the other was goth as fuck. What the hell happened and how was he here?

I was basically wondering what would happen if Jason and Danny where thrown into the pits and turned on the portal at the same time and what if they swapped places.

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ “i’ve got you..”

warnings: mentions of depression, restricted eating, descriptions of drug misuse.

summary: y/n can’t think of any other way to alleviate her pain. (this was a request, but i accidentally posted it instead of saving draft so the ask is gone.)

four days, it had been four days since rafe last heard from her, and he was starting to get anxious. the last time he saw her, she looked as though she wasn’t really there, more of a hollow shell than she’d ever been. he knew why, he knew she was spiralling, but she’d never disappeared on him like this before.

four days was a long time for them to not see each other, let alone not even exchange a phone call. rafe knew she needed some space, he knew she preferred to be left alone when everything came back up, and he was okay with that, as long as he knew she was okay. but this time, he didn’t. he had no clue.

he’d left phone calls, voicemails, texts, but to no avail. sighing, he swept a palm over his face in frustration, making the decision to just go over there.

he knew she’d be in, barry had called him a couple hours earlier to let him know he’d seen her on her way home from her shift at the wreck.

topper had also called him the day prior, having been to the wreck for some lunch with his mother. he took notice of her gaunt face which lacked colour and any sign of emotion. he made sure afterwards to pass this information onto rafe, letting him know she didn’t look good at all.

and it was true, she didn’t. she hadn’t been taking care of herself like usual, y/n couldn’t even remember the last thing she ate. she had no energy to wake up in the mornings, never mind eat and look after herself.

she settled on coffee and energy drinks to keep her going through the day, and then allowing herself to dissociate for hours when she got home.

the last few days y/n had been on autopilot. wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep…it felt like it would never end. the pain in her chest only grew when she thought about it.

she never thought doing a deep clean of her apartment would be so detrimental. coming across an old photo of her and her late brother as kids certainly wasn’t on her to do list, and have it uproot her life for the next few days wasn’t either.

she missed him dearly, not a day went by when she didn’t think about him, her big brother. and it hurt. it hurt so much to the point she was now trembling, looking at the crumbling pills in her hand.

they were old, but they were the next best thing compared to sweet nothingness. utter bliss, is how her friend had describe them to her when she bought them a few months prior.

her friend was somewhat of an expert when it came to downers, he knew his shit, and she trusted him not to give her anything that was too much or too little.

falling back against the couch, allowing the pills to slip down her throat with a sip of water, she waited patiently for them to kick in as she stared at the television.

rafe on the other hand, was on his way over, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. he’d finally given in to his worries, too anxious to keep his promise of space.

he just had a bad feeling. sure, he’d seen her in all sorts of states before, she’d been through a lot, so he was bound to experience the highs and lows. but this, this was different. y/n had never shut him out like this before, and his stomach was doing flips every minute.

the range rover screeched to a half outside of her apartment building, the patter of rain echoing throughout the car as it landed on the roof.

pulling out the key, he twirled the bunch in his hand nervously before getting out to head inside. fortunately, her apartment was only on the second floor, so there wasn’t too many stairs to climb.

all measures of privacy were thrown out the window as he neared her door, pulling the spare key from his pocket.

he took note of the lack of noise in her apartment, hearing nothing but the television on an unusually low volume. it was eerily uncommon for y/n to not have music and the television on, as well as whatever devices she had in use in the kitchen.

his heavy footsteps padded through the hallway into the open living room where she sat, completely unaware of his presence. “y/n?” no response.

rounding the couch, he planted his feet in front of the television, causing her to jump at his sudden appearance. “y/n?” he asked again, his usually confident tone faltering.

“r-rafe…what…here?” she mumbled, her eyes flirting between him and the floor, barely open.

his mouth fell agape as he really took in her appearance. her cheeks were hollow and her eyes were unusually glassy, which was unfortunately familiar to him. he’d seen the same look in others eyes, completely catatonic.

slowly, he moved towards the couch, sitting down beside her to get a better idea of her current state of mind.

her head turned slowly to face him, still slumped against the back of the couch as a weak smile flashed across her lips.

“have you taken something?” he questioned, leaning closer to observe her. her head shook ambiguous, almost not answering his question as she reached a hand out.

looking down at her open palm, his jaw clenched as his eyes met the white residue left on her fingertips. “how many did you take?”

her hand trembled as she signalled a two with her fingers, her eyes now avoiding his.

pulling her in gently, he rested her head against his chest, his other arm reaching over her hips to pull her closer. she sank into his arms as he stroked her hair, pressing the odd kiss to the crown of her head.

“i wish you’d let me help you angel, i’d have been here in a heartbeat if i knew you needed me..” he muttered, his eyes now welling with hot tears.

tilting his head, he lay his cheek on top of her head as she rubbed hers against his chest, a silent nudge that she was listening.

her free hand clasped around his elbow, weakly pulling his hand from her head, his brows furrowing as she did. his confusion subsided as she interlocked her dainty fingers with his.

her eyes remained fixed on the television as they held each other, scared the other night fade away if they let go.

“i’m not going anywhere baby, ever. m’kay? i love you so much..” he whispered, a few stray tears seeping into the roots of her hair.

she nodded slightly against his chest in agreement, letting out a breath as he shuffled on the couch, moving to lie down. pulling her further onto him, she nuzzled into his arm as they lay there together, sharing silent tears.

“i love you y/n, more than you’ll ever know…”

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I’ve Got You ~Plutonic!Godmother!Sylvia Chamberlain xFem Goddaughter!Reader

Summary— Sylvia is Reader’s Godmother who practically raised Reader. Some days the pressure of the high society of New York gets to Sylvia. On those days, Reader is there for Sylvia, guiding her arm by arm to make it through the day.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: little angst, fluff, implied depression, implied anxiety, implied depressive history, implied anxiety history, implied abandonment, comforting, physical comfort, happy ending, etc.

Enjoy (;

Sometimes it was just too much for her. High society New York was ruthless. They ostracized her. Sylvia was usually good at putting on a brave face and putting her first foot forward. She was usually good at brushing off the looks and snide comments. She had gotten used to the prejudice, the traditional views.

But sometimes it just became too much. Sometimes she let those pesky thoughts get the best of her. Some days, Sylvia stayed inside her home, locked away from the world. She would stay in bed until the late afternoon, rising only to eat a little, before retreating back to bed. She’d have those comments in her head on loop, haunting her. Her past never seemed to relent it seemed. And that was hard to reconcile on some days.

Those were the days that concerned you. Whenever you could sense that she was about to break, you were quick to be by the woman’s side. She was your Godmother after all. And as your family had never really been one to raise you, Sylvia had. She hadn’t needed to. She simply had. You’d happily take care of the woman on those difficult days, considering all she’d done for you.

On those days, the days where Sylvia fought every single fiber of life, you were right by her side. You would convince her to get up, get dressed, and get some breakfast. You’d try to make her laugh throughout your morning meal as much as you could. You could see her thoughts spiraling across the table. Her eyes were blank, dull from all the overwhelmingness going on behind them.

And then you would suggest an activity outside of her house walls. If she was up for it, you would accompany Sylvia to something such as an art exhibit or to a park. Fresh air always helped. You’d make sure to steer clear of any known social gatherings, not wanting her to have to deal with the cliquey society of New York’s finest, not on days like this.

If she wouldn’t hear it, you’d at least insist that you two tour her own personal art exhibit at the minimum, to at least get her moving around. You’d spend hours silent on those types of days, but you were used to it. You’d talk to her, talk about her art, talk about your life, talk about her, talk about anything and everything to keep her distracted and safe with your arm linked into hers.

Slowly but surely, you’d start to coax the woman back to her vivid disposition. By the end of the day, you’d insist they go out to dinner, and by then, Sylvia would usually agree. (On some really bad days, you’d take her straight to bed, it just all being too much and unrelenting. And you made sure to let her know that that was okay too, that you would never fault her for wanting to start fresh the next day). If she’d let you wine and dine her, you could usually crack a couple of small smiles from her.

By the end of your shared night, you’d take the woman home, tucking her in and saying good night.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I am ever so lucky to have your company, that you tolerate me…” Sylvia would whisper, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You’d blush.

“Anytime. And nonsense, I don’t tolerate you— I love you.” You’d whisper back.

This would make Sylvia blush.

“I love you too” She’d murmur before falling into slumber.

~~~

Sylvia Chamberlain Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

[aprilertle]

Sometimes when I get extremely depressed I feel like I want to die. I don’t really think I do, but I’m just so tired of the bad days outweighing the good. I’m tired of feeling so lonely and isolated. I’m tired of feeling like I have nobody in my corner, no village, no support system. When I have these thoughts of ending my life, I feel guilty. Just the thought of my kids having to navigate life without me here breaks my heart. I could never hurt them like that by taking my own life. Nobody could ever love or care for them like I do.

I just hope that someday things get better. I want things to change for the good. I don’t want to keep waking up dreading another day. I used to be so happy, now I just feel nothing but intense sadness, stress, and anxiety. I feel stuck. I feel like I’m possibly wasting the best years of my life in such a depressive rut that by the time I’m even able to crawl my way out of it and entertain the dreams and goals I had for myself it’ll be too late.

I love my kids so much and I don’t know what I’d do without them but I never anticipated motherhood being such a lonely and isolating thing. I know that if my parents were still here things would be so different. I don’t want to consider myself a doormat but I know I’ve dealt with and put up with a lot that I know I wouldn’t have if my parents were here. When you feel like you have no one in your corner you tend to keep quiet about things that bother you because you don’t want to ruffle feathers.

When it comes to my family in general, I’ve slowly accepted that they will never be able to meet me where I need them to. Maybe they can’t, maybe they just don’t want to. But the fact of the matter is I can’t count on them. I suffered from such severe postpartum depression after my son was born and not one of them offered support despite knowing I was spiraling. I’m not saying they had to, they had no obligation to care for me and make sure I was ok. But maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if I just had one of them show up and help and let me know I wasn’t as alone as I felt. They say you don’t ever forget how you were treated during your pregnancy and they’re right, you don’t. But you also don’t ever forget how you were treated postpartum. It’ll stick with me for a long time, maybe forever. And as petty as it may sound I don’t look at certain people the same way anymore. “If you’re struggling and your people are just sitting there watching you struggle, they’re not your people.”

Writing used to be such a healthy outlet and I feel like maybe it’ll help me to just start writing it all out. Maybe then I can slowly start making sense of the last 3 1/2 years. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[angeltreasure]

Hey I’m coming here and saying this because I’m desperate and I no longer care that I probably sound disgusting, embarrassing and like I do not know what the heck I’m doing because I really don’t. I’m just in desperate need of prayer and support rn

I have such a bad rep of making terrible decisions and I recently (not something I’m proud of) have come away from the church quite a bit and not really been trusting God. I’ve been quite depressed if I’m being honest and had multiple people in my life really making things quite difficult for me, so I’ve just found myself not talking to anyone about how things have really been.

Now that that’s out. I had a relationship break down around Christmas time and it was a really unhealthy one so I’m glad it did. I think the way I have and still am processing it is not good though as a guy I used to like and still am very attracted to (but literally pretty much JUST attraction) told me he liked me. We had this on/ off thing and nothing went too far and he basically left me in the city alone last week whilst he got drunk and probably high with his friends. I still didn’t care though which shows my lack of self respect right now… and then his friend told me he has trust issues and doesn’t want something serious. Because this is purely lust for me, I think I’ve been desperate to just be around him and last night his mate invited me out to this club tonight cause’ he’s gonna be there and basically said I can give him a bday treat but basically that he just wants sex. I am actually that unhinged right now that I want to go and my own friend who has never been a believer wants to go so it’s almost an excuse for me now but I have enough sanity left to tell myself I wouldn’t actually sleep with this dude but I also do not even trust myself and UGH I know I just typed out so so much and most of it is just disgusting and just honestly a truthful piece of what’s been happening in my life lately. Please offer some sane advice or prayer idk what to do anymore

I think when we get overwhelmed it’s important to first step back. Grab a piece a paper and pen. Then, write down in bullet points what you told me like

- I haven’t been trusting in God

- I’m away from the church

- family and some friends are making it difficult for me

- I just got out of a bad relationship not too long ago

- I’m so desperate to feel anything I’m consider the birthday gift to a guy who doesn’t even like me for who I am but just wants me in lust

Now we can go through those things together. You just got out of a bad relationship. I’m so glad you did because you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed in that one, probably. I know breaking up hurts and we want to feel loved again, because I know that feeling.

Now look at the rest, family and some friends are making it difficult. You have to ask the why’s to that, and also remember to have any relationship build you need two way communication not one sided. You build trust slowly but communication is key. Falling for some guy just for his looks a quick pleasure isn’t going to satisfy you. That’s not love at all. To love, as St. Thomas Aquinas says, is to will the good of the other. Peace starts in our world when we bring peace at our own home. Instead of wandering, come back to your family and good friends. Tell them all you’re going through. You have to spiral out alone. If they are good family and good friends they will help you.

I know it hurts in your chest, all that pain you have gone through. I know you feel a disconnect with God. The only thing that can fill the void you feel in your heart right now is God. Don’t go to that party. Come to to Mass. come sit in the back pew. You don’t have to talk with anyone, you don’t need to know all the prayers or understanding the readings to their full. God knows exactly what you need right now and He is love and mercy itself. Please come to Mass. God loves and I love you. I’ll keep you in my prayers.

Have you read the story of the Prodigal Son? I think you can connect to it so much. Read it. Take a moment to be alone to read it.

[makeste]

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

um

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

[strongelongitude]

"Midnights" Lyrics I Absolutely Love

for the record, this is your fault @alltouwell

Lavender Haze

“I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me”

“I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say”

“The only kinda girl they see is a one-night or a wife”

“I find it dizzying, they’re bringing up my history, but you aren’t even listening”

“I just need this love spiral. Get it off your chest, get it off my desk”

Maroon

“Laughing with my feet in your lap like you were my closest friend”

“The mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home”

“When the silence came we were shaking, blind and hazy. How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbing with you head in your hands, ain’t that the way shit always ends?”

“And I wake with your memory over me. That’s a real fucking legacy to leave”

Anti-Hero

“I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser. Midnights become my afternoons”

“When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room.”

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

“I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

“Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism…”

“One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time)”

Snow on the Beach

“Life is emotionally abusive and time can’t stop me quite like you did.”

“I’ve never seen someone lit from within, blurring out my periphery” 

“I can’t even speak, afraid to jinx it. I don’t even dare to wish it”

You’re On Your Own Kid

“Summer went away, still the yearning stays”

“It’s okay we’re the best of friends, anyways”

“I didn’t choose this town, I dream of getting out. There’s just one that could make stay, all my days”

“From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I waited ages to see you there. I searched the party of better bodies just to learn that you never cared.”

“I picked the petals he loves me not”

“Something different bloomed, writing in my room. I play my songs in the parking lot”

“I searched the party of better bodies just to learn that my dreams aren’t rare.”

“I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I hosted parties and starved my body”

“My friends from home don’t know what to say”

“I looked around in a blood-soaked gown and I saw something they can’t take away.”

“Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned. Everything you lose is a step you take.”

“So make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, you’ve got no reason to be afraid”

“Yeah you can face this, you’re on your own kid, you always have been.”

Midnight Rain

“He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain.”

“I was making my own name, chasing that fame, he stayed the same”

“I guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted, just what we wanted. And he never thinks of me except for when I’m on TV”

“I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted. And I never think of him except on midnights like this”

Question…?

“Good girl, sad boy, big city, wrong choices”

“Cause I don’t remember who I was before you painted all my nights, a color I’ve searched for since”

“Fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications. And I have to say, by the way, I just may like some explanations”

“Then what did you do? Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Did you wish you’d put up more of a fight when she said it was too much? Do you still wish you could touch her? It’s just a question.”

“Half-moon eyes, bad surprise, did you realize, out of time”

“Does it feel like everything’s just like second best after that meteor strike?”

Vigilante Shit

“Draw the cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man. You did some bad things but I’m the worst of them”

“They say looks can kill and I might try.”

“I don’t dress for women, I don’t dress for men, lately I’ve been dressing for revenge.”

“I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends. Don’t get sad, get even.”

“She needed cold, hard proof so I gave her some. She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?”

“Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife”

“While he was doing lines and crossing all of mine”

“And I don’t dress for villains, or for innocents, I’m on my vigilante shit”

Bejeweled

“Baby, love, I think I’ve been a little too kind. Didn’t notice you walking all over my piece of mind”

“Putting someone first only works when you’re in their top five”

“Best believe I’m still bejeweled, when I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt, don’t put me in the basement”

“Baby, boy, I think I’ve been too good of a girl. Did all the extra credit then got graded on a curve.”

“And I miss you, but I miss sparklin’”

“But some guy said my aura’s moonstone just cause he was high”

“What’s a girl gonna do, a diamond’s gotta shine.”

Labyrinth

“Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out”

“Uh-oh, I’m fallin’ in love. Oh no, I’m fallin’ in love again”

“I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it back around”

“Break up, break free, break through, break down. You would break your back to make me break a smile”

“You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back, just like that”

Karma

“You’re terrified to look down, cause if you do you’ll see the glare of everyone you burned just to get there”

“And I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn’t know what I mean”

“Karma’s a relaxing thought, aren’t you envious that for you it’s not?”

“Karma is a cat, purring in my lap cause it loves me”

“Ask me why so many fade when I’m still here”

“Cause karma is the thunder, rattling your ground”

“Karma’s gonna track you down, step by step from town to town”

Sweet Nothing

“They say the end is comin’, everyone’s up to somethin’, I find myself running home to your sweet nothings”

“All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.”

“On the way home I write a poem. You say “what a mind.” This happens all the time”

“And the voices that implore, ‘you should be doing more,’ to you I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it”

Mastermind

“Once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. You and I ended up in the same room, at the same time.” 

“And the touch of a hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves to assess the equation of you.”

“Checkmate, I couldn’t lose.”

“What if I told you none of it was accidental and the first night that you saw me nothing was gonna stop me?”

“I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line”

“Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover’s game”

“If you fail to plan you plan to fail. Strategy sets the scene for the tale”

“I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since, to make them love me and make it seem effortless”

“And I swear I’m only cryptic and machiavellian cause I care.”

“I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk on your face, you knew the entire time. You knew that I’m a mastermind. And now you’re mine.”

The Great War

“And maybe it’s the past talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did. So I justified it.”

“It turned into something bigger. Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I’d been betrayed.”

Bigger than the Whole Sky

“Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness”

“I’ve got a lot to pine about, I’ve got a lot to live without, I’m never gonna meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, should’ve been you”

“Cause it’s all over, it’s not meant to be, so I’ll say words I don’t believe”

Paris

“And all the outfits were terrible, 2003 unbearable. Did you see the photos? No I didn’t, but thanks though”

“I’m so in love that I might stop breathing, drew a map on your bedroom ceiling. No, I didn't see the news cause we were somewhere else.”

“Privacy sign on the door and on my page and on the whole world. Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours”

“Sip quiet by my side in the shade. And not the kind that’s thrown I mean the kind under where a tree has grown”

“I was taken by the view, like we were in Paris”

“I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever. I wanna transport you to somewhere the culture’s clever.” 

“Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.”

High Infidelity

“Lock broken, slur spoken, wound open, game token. I didn't know you were keeping count. Rain soaking, blind hoping, you said I was freeloading. I didn't know you were keeping count”

“High infidelity, put on your records and regret me, I bent the truth too far tonight”

“Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?”

“Storm coming, good husband, bad omen, dragged my feet right down the aisle”

“You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. The slowest way is never loving them enough”

“Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?”

Glitch

I was supposed to sweat you out. In search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground

“I think there's been a glitch, five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch. And I'm not even sorry, nights are so starry, blood moonlit, It must be counterfeit”

“But it's been two-thousand one-hundred ninety days of our love blackout (Our love is blacking out) The system's breaking down (The system's breaking down)”

“A brief interruption, a slight malfunction, I’d go back to wanting dudes who give nothing”

Dear Reader

“Dear reader, if it feels like a trap you’re already in one”

“Desert all your past lives, and if you don’t recognize yourself that means you did it right”

“Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart”

“Dear reader, bend when you can, snap when you have to. Dear reader, you don’t have to answer just cause they asked you.”

“When you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss”

“You wouldn’t take my word for it if you knew who was talking, if you knew where I was walking”

“And my friends found friends who care”

“No one sees when you lose when you’re playing solitaire”

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

“If you tasted poison you could’ve spit me out at the first chance”

“And if I was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? And if it was a child, did it matter if you got to wash your hands?”

“If you’d never looked my way I would’ve stayed on my knees. And I damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen”

“And now that I’m grown I’m scared of ghosts”

“And now that I know, I wish you’d left me wondering”

“God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be”

“If clarity’s in death then why won’t this die?”

“Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts, give me back my girlhood it was mine first”

[bittermuire]

A (long) analysis of Azriel,

+ a bit of discussion about Gwynriel vs. Elriel at the end.

Lately I’ve seen much discussion surrounding Azriel, and there seems to be a lot of hazy gray area. We know he has a terrible past, carries a lot of trauma, is both mentally and physically scarred, and has disturbingly possessive habits. But why? That’s the question.

I think most of Azriel’s character can be filtered into three sections: his anger, his possessiveness, and his self-loathing. Altogether I believe these form his crippling sense of emotional immaturity, which ultimately shines through most every action he makes in the books.

So yes, I firmly believe Az is a child in the body of a 500 year old Fae. But is he treated as such? No. No, he is not. In fact, he’s treated as the exact opposite, and that can’t be doing wonders for his mental health (which is already in shambles. Off to a cheery start.)

Let’s take a look at his past. He was both mentally and physically abused for the majority of his childhood. Then he was thrown into an unforgiving culture that both mentally and physically abused him as well. Then he was essentially bullied by Cassian and Rhysand for quite a while... until they randomly decided to like him, which is a choice he didn’t seem to play a hand in. And then he became a professional torturer. All the while falling madly in love and becoming obsessed with a female who can’t love him back. Not to mention he’s been ostracized his entire life.

(One big thing though, that I’m going to reference frequently, is Azriel’s constant chase of “happiness.” Kind of like my friends with ADHD. We squeeze all the serotonin we can get out of one thing and then fall into a listless, depressed haze until we find another. I honestly think Azriel does the same thing with people--he latches onto them and lets his mood swings rely on how much attention they do or do not pay him, and whether it is positive or negative.)

So I’m going to go through his relationships with pivotal characters and try to explain what I think is really going on with Azriel.

Regarding Mor:

He was obsessed with her for most of his life. He was incredibly possessive of her and fell instantly in love upon seeing her. Do I think it was love? No. But does Azriel think it was love? Yes, and that is so important. It shows how desperate he was for human connection.

This “love” spiraled into centuries-long obsession that we’ve all seen play out throughout the series. But why is it obsession, and not love? Well, I’m going to go ahead and say that Azriel doesn’t know how to love. He’s never been shown genuine love and so he doesn’t know how to show it to others in the way he intends. He’s basically a baby.

But right after he falls head over heels, Mor sleeps with Cassian, and then Cassian plays the role of the buffer between the two of them all the way up until the events of ACOSF. This is where I think Azriel’s anger comes into play. He can’t get to Mor. His best friend, his brother, is blocking him from her. He can’t touch her, love her, feel her, and he’s so desperate to. But he literally has no way to communicate it because he doesn’t know how, and so he responds in the one way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. And intense protectiveness that eventually begins to translate as possessiveness.

Again, he lets his happiness rely on Mor because he can’t make himself happy, and so his lack of emotional maturity ends up revealing him as desperate and unable to communicate his feelings of inadequacy and frustration. I’m not trying to justify his behavior, not at all. But I think this could be a decent explanation.

Regarding Cassian and Rhysand:

I mean... I kind of hate the way these two have treated Azriel. They all have their fair share of trauma, but Cassian and Rhys also bullied him and ostracized him, and then basically said, “Oh, we like you now.” Which completely leaves Azriel in the dark as to where he stands with them, and strips him of awareness regarding how his friendships with them will operate.

And then he becomes the head of espionage for the Night Court, which involves lots and lots of torture. What kind of message does that send? You’ve seen dirty things, Az, so you don’t mind doing the rest of the dirty things for us, right? That’s the only real message I can get from this. Which then plants the message in Azriel’s head of: Not only do I do dirty things, I myself am a dirty, disgusting thing. Thus, furthering his already deep-seated sense of self-loathing.

Plus, the IC generally operates with a pack-like mindset. One person’s method of healing is everyone’s method of healing. It worked for one person, so it worked for everyone. It’s a very naive mindset, and very toxic as well, so it’s not surprising that literally everyone in the IC is colossally messed up despite preaching themselves as having overcome their demons.

So Azriel never really gets to understand himself and mature as a person. He’s stuck pretending to be perfectly fine underneath Rhysand’s oh-so-benevolent and compassionate hand. Rhysand and Cassian recognize Az as being a little... odd, by seeming to think things like “he’s the quiet one” and “he’s the serious, scary one.” But do they attempt to understand him? No. They leave him to his own devices and let him figure it out himself.

That’s the issue. He’s not ever going to figure it out himself, so long as he’s surrounded by the people who’ve been unwittingly suffocating him for most of his life.

Regarding Elain:

Azriel’s infatuation with Elain, in my opinion, comes as a direct result of his detachment from Mor. Just like one hyperfixation fades quickly from an all-consuming thing to a passing thought, Azriel has shifted from one obsession to the next, in order to keep his spirits on a high.

But I think his feelings for Elain reveal a lot of what Mor did not. Why does he view Elain as so holy compared to him? Why is he so hesitant to touch her? Why does he put her on such a pedestal? That’s his self-loathing coming through again. He hates himself so much that he has to place her above him.

He wants to touch her and love her, just as he did with Mor, but again he is unable. It's a repeating pattern that he can’t get himself out of.

Let’s also look at the way Elain and Azriel’s friendship/relationship began. He had to take care of her, and treat her with utmost respect. She looked at his scars or his siphons, both monstrous looking things, and called them beautiful. Let’s remember that he’s basically a child who’s rarely known genuine love. The minute he gets a glimpse of it, he’s going to grab it by the neck and crush it to his chest. Plus, the fact that she’s the last sister left unattached and he’s the last brother left unattached is probably even more convincing for him that he and Elain are meant for each other. When he’s denied this love that’s come nearly close enough to grab, he responds in the only way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. Just like he did with Mor.

But moving on, that glimpse of potential love comes from Elain. That’s why he’s able to let go of Mor; a relationship with Elain suddenly becomes possible. He’s terrified of ruining this potential love and is incredibly drawn to her all the same. Best of all? She wants him too.

BUT. Azriel knows how fragile Elain is, so he walks on glass around her, coddling her, putting her first like he’s put everyone else first since being a part of the IC. I think he wants to save her from becoming like him. He essentially plays the role of her white knight, entirely losing his sense of self-preservation (not that he ever had one), and thus loses any chance of letting Elain help him mature in return.

Regarding Gwyn:

Now, Gwyn is a different story.

We know Azriel likes her. Maybe not in a consciously romantic way, but he likes her. She makes him smile and laugh, and he finds her amusing. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around her.

The big thing, I think, is that he doesn’t have to take care of her. At least, I think that’s what makes him so comfortable around her. With Gwyn, he can relax, and he doesn’t have to watch every move he makes. She treats him like a regular person and he treats her similarly.

Now, is it a bad thing that he doesn’t put her on a saint-like pedestal like he does Elain? No. Definitely not. I think this ordinary friendship signals a much healthier relationship than his festering obsession with Elain. Gwyn simply being his friend and not someone that he feels he has to be perfect for is a good foundation for Azriel growing as a person.

Gwynriel vs. Elriel (the necklace):

Honestly, I’m scared for whatever SJM decides to do, because Azriel has a shitload of trauma to move past and years worth of emotional growth needed before he can be a steady partner in a relationship. Both Gwyn and Elain’s character arcs are definitely not finished and so I think that no matter which way his narrative goes, it’s going to be disappointing in some aspect or another, unfortunately. I don’t think that either one of the females’ arcs really fit well with Azriel’s.

But I’m going to take a closer look at the necklace, because I think it’s a telling narrative point.

For Azriel, the necklace for Elain and Gwyn herself, are both “thing[s] of secret, lovely beauty” to him.

By describing the necklace for Elain as such (instead of Elain herself), Azriel unconsciously reveals his more idealistic view of Elain rather than his love for Elain herself. I kind of get the sense of Azriel giving offerings to a goddess, or something like that. He seems to be more preoccupied with appeasing Elain than actually loving her.

Now, this probably comes from, again, his self-loathing and his emotional immaturity. I’m just repeating myself at this point. He doesn’t know how to love himself and he doesn’t know how to love anyone else.

But then he describes Gwyn as such. Gwyn, the person. In my opinion, this demonstrates a potentially much healthier relationship than what he has with Elain. Azriel, instead of wanting to be perfect for Gwyn and wanting to appease her, is simply made happy by the thought of her. It is Gwyn whom he is taken with, not the idea of Gwyn loving him. And so that takes off so much pressure for him, and introduces the hope that he might be able to mature as a person in a friendship or romantic relationship with Gwyn.

Closing thoughts:

Azriel is a blundering, hormonal child desperate for love with no idea of how to get it, in a 500 year old Fae’s body. He’s also surrounded by people who refuse to address his clear issues... his future’s pretty dim, and I think he realizes it. Which is why whoever SJM chooses to be his romantic interest is going to be very important.

In short, I’m scared for what’s to come. But fingers crossed that his incredibly complex character is done justice.

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

[knickynoo]

Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

[dutchdread]

No offense bro, but why are you always so protective of Cloud? No disrespect to you or anything but I've heard quite a bit of different opinions and theories on Cloud myself and I do agree with the people who say that he takes Tifa for granted. Going through trauma in the past is not really an excuse for his behavior. He also does act like he's the only one who has suffered in his life. Do you have other reason to defend him other than the fact that you "relate" to him? Just wondering.

Sorry for the late reply, my life has basically left no room for hobbies these past months. Your question is hard to reply to because I am not sure what you mean when you say I am protective of him. I guess you mean I defend his actions? Specifically in ACC? Firstly let me state that there is a difference between being a good character and being a nice character, there is also a difference between agreeing with someones actions, or just understanding them. Personally, I never really liked Cloud, especially not when I was younger. A lot of my defense of Cloud doesn't come from me personally liking him, but from me thinking he's a good character. I also think Snape is a good character, but I don't like his actions, and I don't defend them, although I still understand them to a certain degree. I should also say that as I started to understand Clouds character more, I also started liking HIM a bit more, although I still don't like the things he did, and would very likely not be friends with him. But I do understand why he did what he did and cannot be too critical of him because of that. You've probably heard that before you judge someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That's great advice, if you want to judge someone, you should imagine what it would be like to be them, however, I've noticed that too often when people try to walk a mile in someone elses shoes, they refuse to take their own shoes off first. They don't think "what would it be like to be him", they think "what would I do in that position". But Cloud is not you, and you cannot judge him by how you would act, you've not gone through the same things he has, your thought patterns aren't the same etc. This matters because too often I see people judging Clouds actions in ACC, and establishing his motivations by saying things that boil down to "If I were in his position, I would only do those actions if I loved Aerith/didn't love Tifa/whatever". But they're not Cloud, and they're not understanding how Cloud thinks, and that it's different from how THEY think. But like you said, I do see some recognizable elements of myself in Cloud, which is why I do understand his actions, and why I feel relatively certain in defending them, because I see them coming from a good place. It's common for me to react to things in a way that others find counter-intuitive. Let me give you an example, my brother once was mad at me because I had not told him my girlfriend of several years and I had broken up while I did tell a random stranger at the pub. He said that he felt like he wasn't important to me if I told a random stranger but not him. The truth was the exact opposite, I love my brother, and could not bear to face him for some reason, as I told him: "if not caring enough was the problem, then I wouldn't have told a random stranger". I see people exhibit that same lack of understanding when discussing Clouds actions, where they feel like his actions must be the sign of him just being a bad person, or not caring. But ask yourself what is more likely, that Square-enix wants their hero to be a bad person, or that you simply are misunderstanding the character? I understand why people don't get Cloud, Cloud suffers from obvious mental health issues, and mental health issues simply are not something that the general public understands, even today. Not only that, but Cloud went through the most insane series of traumatic events anyone could ever imagine. He had an alien parasite in him, saw his entire town murdered before his eyes, then saw Zack murdered in front of his eyes, then saw Aerith murdered in front of his eyes, and just when he started living a peaceful life he is forced to watch his child succumb to sickness in front of his eyes, and then he finds he himself is dying. All this on the psyche of a man who had had a fear of failure ever since he was a child, spent most of his life essentially in war, and had a severe identity crisis as well. Do you think you can honestly judge him by going "that's not what I would have done"? Would that not be incredibly

presumptuous? Have you suffered from depression as a result of severe post-war PTSD and a lifelong feeling of inadequacy combined with a fear of failure and the belief that many of your loved ones died because you failed and were inadequate? Because that's the context in which you have to view Cloud when watching Advent Children. Saying "Going through trauma in the past is not really an excuse for his behavior" is just incredibly short-sighted, your behavior is determined by who you are, and who you are is determined by what you go through in the past. You can't expect a broken child to become a well-adjusted adult when being a well-adjusted adult is the result of having a normal childhood.

I also don't want to cause offense, but this really is a mindset you should change, because this mindset is one of the most pervasive and damaging ones in our society, it's the one that probably bothers me most when I hear it because it makes zero sense. It's like breaking a robots self-repair unit, and then being angry at it on the grounds that the self-repair unit should have fixed it. It's also very insensitive in general, it's the equivalent of saying "why are you depressed, just stop being depressed", people don't choose to be depressed, people don't choose to have a fear of failure. People don't choose their emotions, they're just there. They can be influenced by behavior over time, sure, but behavior is equally influenced by who you are and your emotions, which, as mentioned before, is determined for a large part by your past. People don't just "snap out of it". They fight and fight and fight, and sometimes they win and break out of the spiral, and sometimes they lose and it breaks them.

FFVII, and especially Advent children, is all about that struggle, and during those struggles you will have high-points, and low-points. FFVII shows all of those. It shows Cloud trying, it shows Cloud wanting, it shows Cloud failing, but it also, ultimately, shows Cloud prevailing. Judging Cloud for not breaking out of the spiral by the time of Advent children, when he was mentally only barely 18 years old, and when he started at the worst place anyone could ever imagine, is just not reasonable. It's the modern day equivalent of "let them eat cake", something that can only be said from the place of privilege of not knowing what the struggles of the people you're critiquing are actually like. So having that out of the way, lets look at Clouds actions from the perspective of Cloud. Cloud is a young boy, and he's in love with the girl next door, he wants to get her to notice him. One day said girl walks up a mountain and he follows, she falls off a bridge and ends in a coma. Cloud followed her because he's in love with her, and he gets the blame from the adults. Cloud internalizes this, and its important to imagine what this must be like for a child, to have the adults all tell him it's his fault that the person he loves ended up hurt. "your fault", "your fault". Afterwards Cloud starts thinking Tifa hates him and starts acting out. I think this is a good moment to point out btw that this child has no father figure. This is the start of his feelings of failure and inadequacy, he blames himself for not being able to protect Tifa, failure number 1, he thinks that if he were strong, he'd be able to protect her, he thinks that if he were like Sephiroth, then even Tifa would have to notice him. Now until this time Cloud is not an asshole, he's a bit of a rebellious kid yes, but notice that he's not a bad kid as much as he's a kid who wants to protect someone, has no direction, and is acting out. So Cloud thinks he's not good enough, but he leaves town confident that he'll become good enough, and even makes a promise to Tifa. All this follows logically from what we know about Cloud, and tells us a lot about how deeply seated these feelings are. Becoming Soldier wasn't a small thing, not some small passion project that he just came up with one day, it's the result of the things that happened in his childhood and he left everything behind make it so. He told the girl he loved, he promised, he boasted. And then he failed. Failure number 2. He comes back to Nibleheim and can't bear to look Tifa in the eye and admit that he couldn't do it, that he's a failure. His entire life so far has revolved around this and he wasn't good enough. So here we have Cloud, not in a great mindset, thinking he's a failure, and what happens? His entire town is murdered by the person he admired, someone he worked with. His Mother is killed, and Tifa, the girl he PROMISED to protect, gets slashed open so badly that apparently she needed to have her ribcage reinforced with metal. I think we can all agree that this by itself would be enough to potentially scar a person for life. (Cloud, not Tifa XD) So what's next for the boy who left town in order to become a hero? Well, he gets captured and experimented on for 4 years, during which his mind and sense of identity is bombarded with memories and knowledge of the lifestream in the form of mako, muddying up his thoughts. Cloud already had a weak sense of self as a result of his childhood, it's why he failed to enter Soldier and now this distaste for who he is makes him extra susceptible to Jenovas influence. The next thing Cloud sees, (he didn't consciously experience the 4 years of mind-fuckery) is his best friend getting killed trying to protect him, because Cloud wasn't strong enough. Failure #3. At this point, in Clouds mind the list of people dead because he could not protect them, because he's a failure, include his mother, his entire town, his best friend, and as far as he knows, the girl he loves. This is his life. His mind is broken, he hates himself, he doesn't want to be himself,

he has a mind-altering parasite inside of him trying to adjust his identity and Clouds just goes "I reject this reality and constitute my own". And why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't he want to live in a fantasy world where he wasn't a failure, where he made it into soldier, where he was cool and successful and not a disappointing failure? Zack tells him to be his living legacy and Cloud goes with it, then he runs into Tifa, Jenova adjusts Cloud further based on Tifas memories of them and rejoined with the girl for whom he joined Soldier Cloud is unconsciously all too willing to play the part. FFVII starts and it doesn't take long for the cracks in his fake persona to show, he meets Aerith, and becomes her bodyguard. He gets to be the hero he always wanted to be. But then, even as "Cloud strife, soldier first class", Cloud is still a failure, the plate still drops, killing thousands, he gives Sephiroth the black materia, he beats up Aerith, and ultimately, fails to save her as well. Tifa was the First Failure, and Aerith was the Final Failure. Even as a soldier, Cloud still couldn't save anyone, he loses even more faith in himself, he doesn't know who he is, he doesn't trust himself, and then when he also loses Tifas trust in who he is, he just breaks and gives over to Jenova/Sephiroth. Even Hojo calls him a failure. Cloud feels like a nobody. Now mentally weakened, under the influence of jenova cells, he gives Sephiroth the black materia AGAIN, and meteor is summoned. Another entry on the long list of moments Cloud can look back on in shame later on in life. He falls into the lifestream and again his psyche is under attack. We know what happens afterwards, Tifa finds him, cares for him, and saves him through his feelings for her. Cloud realizes who he is, realizes he's weak, and goes after Sephiroth without lying to himself. In the end he defeats Sephiroth mentally and is supposedly rid of his direct influence.

But that doesn't mean that this mentally 17 year old is now fine, we should remember these events when analyzing ACC. Cloud has been in constant fighting/war/peril ever since he left home as a child, and is now a traumatized 17 year old in a 21 year olds body. Novels and other materials give us an insight into how Cloud thinks during these times, and how he thinks about himself. We hear him say that he's going to live because that's the only way he can atone for his sins. He talks about wanting to change, and about believing he can change because he now has Tifa. He's a man (boy) who just exited war, and wants to be positive, but is still clearly blaming himself. We see that this initially goes well, we are told that Cloud experiences peace and happiness that he's never experienced before. We're also told about the things that make it go badly, when he has to deliver flowers to the ancient city for instance. While Cloud regained the sense of who he was the belief that he wasn't good enough, that he was a failure, was never solved, if anything it was put on hold until he got his memories back, and now he is forced to deal with it.

While he is no longer directly manipulated by Sephiroth he's still suffering from PTSD and, most notably, survivors guilt. He blames himself for the deaths of Zack and Aerith in particular, and starts visiting the church. Now most people might think it's natural to avoid places that make you feel bad about yourself, but that's not how a depressed person thinks, Cloud thinks he deserves to feel badly he WANTS to punish himself, he WANTS to feel bad. He's ashamed of the moments where he's carefree and laughing with Tifa. Why should he get to be happy when Aerith and Zack are dead because of him? He shouldn't be happy, he should be in pain, he should remember them, not doing so would be an insult to their memories, he must never forget how he failed them! That's how Cloud is thinking. We know of course that this is non-sense, Aerith and Zack wouldn't want this, if anything it's this mindset that is tarnishing the memories of Aerith and Zack, but that's not how a mentally unwell person thinks. Cloud wants to atone, and thinks he finds salvation in Denzel, whom he finds at Aeriths church. He thinks that by saving this life, he can, in some way, make up for all the death he caused. Tifa has a similar belief when she finds out Denzels parents died in the plate crash. And when Denzel joins the family, and Cloud has path towards redemption in his mind, things start getting better again. Because this is the cause of the problems Cloud is having in ACC. When Nojima says:

first off, there’s the premise that things won’t go well between Tifa and Cloud, and that even without Geostigma or Sephiroth this might be the same

This is the conflict he's talking about, he's not saying "Tifa and Cloud are incompatible, it has nothing to do with Sephiroth", he's saying "if Sephiroth didn't show up during Advent children, Cloud and Tifa would still be having problems because Cloud is going through survivors guilt."

But the good times don't last, Denzel has Geostigma and Cloud cannot find a cure, Denzel....is going to die. Cloud, has failed again. Not only that, but Cloud catches Geostigma....Cloud is going to die. And THIS is why Cloud leaves in Advent children. And you have to look at this as Cloud. Cloud said he was going to live to atone for his sins, but instead he's going to die. He won't atone for his sins, even worse, he's going to leave Tifa and Marlene behind. He failed again. He couldn't protect Denzel, he potentially brought an infectious disease into their house as well. Literally all Cloud can think about is that literally everything he's ever tried has ended in failure, everyone he's ever tried to protect, he's failed at. Do you understand how easy it would be for a person like this to fall into the trap of thinking "I deserve to die", "I don't want Tifa and Marlene to see me die", "Tifa and Marlene are better off without me anyway", "they'd be happier if I weren't here". Etc. Now we know this is nonsense, but come on, how many instances have you heard of depressed people genuinely believing that their loved ones would be happier and better off if they just didn't exist? However, throughout the movie, Zack, Tifa, and Aerith, all confront Cloud, and urge him to not give up. Cloud eventually does try again, and ultimately finds redemption not by being stuck in the past, but by letting the past rest and be beautiful (a lesson Cleriths unfortunately never learned). "I never blamed you you know, not once" "I want to be forgiven. By who?" "Isn't it about time you did the forgiving?" In the end, Cloud moves on, and therefore, so do Zack and Aerith. Aerith and Zack walk into the light, Cloud plants flowers on Zacks grave, and lets Zacks buster sword rest in Aeriths church, now no longer rusting, but shining. Instead of the past being a negative reminder, Cloud lets the past be beautiful. Cloud was doing Aerith and Zack a disservice by remembering them the way he did, because it was ruining his life, it wasn't a good thing, but it did come from a good place, from a good man whose ashamed of not being good enough. Yes, it harmed Tifa, people going through these things often do hurt those around them, but it's not because they're bad people, or even weak, but because people are imperfect and Cloud has gone through hell, both internally, and externally. Are his actions really that weird or deplorable? "He didn't even go save the kids!" Yes, he's hesitant about saving the kids, why shouldn't he be? Everyone Cloud tried to protect or save, ended up maimed or worse, or as Cloud puts it: "I can't even save myself". "He left Tifa alone!" Yes, he thinks he's going to waste away and die, can you blame him for not wanting to put Tifa through that and for thinking she'd be better off without him? "He drinks!" Wouldn't you?! Who wouldn't want to forget that stuff? But in the end, He's only gone for about a week, he never intended to harm Tifa, he never physically harmed Tifa or cheated on her, his entire life revolved around wanting to be better for Tifa and blaming himself when he wasn't good enough, how is it reasonable to say this man takes Tifa for granted when the fact that he thinks he has to BE BETTER in order to be worthy of being with her has been a constant throughout his entire life and story? He DOESN'T take Tifa for granted, that's why he's beating himself up, that's why he leaves, not because he thinks he's better than her, or that he'll always have her, or that she'll follow him like a dog, or something like that. But because of the opposite, because he thinks HE is not good enough, that SHE would be better of without him. Saying Cloud takes Tifa for granted, is honestly, simply, wrong. It's 180 degrees the opposite of what is happening in FFVII, the biggest constant in Clouds life, is that he doesn't take Tifa for granted, and I don't understand how anyone could argue otherwise.

[ithehellisbucky]

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

~

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

Requests are open!

Prompt List

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

[furiousgoldfish]

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

 What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

 What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

 I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

 I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

 I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

 You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

 Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

 I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

 “As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

 Snap out of it.

 He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

 If that watch don’t continue to swing—

 A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

 —or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

 You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

 —I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

 “Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 7

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After Chat learns Ladybug told Rena her identity, Plagg's solution is simple: tell someone he's Chat Noir so they're even! Duh.

Unbeknownst to the three wicked stooges, Paris’s favorite cat boy sat perched upon a rooftop adjacent to the mansion, ogling the interaction between his father, his trusted assistant, and his absolute least favorite person in the entire world.

Next to Hawk Moth, of course.

As they tittered and conspired in the darkness, Chat Noir narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing . . .

Shady.

“Claws in.”

Plagg whizzed out of the ring and looked up at his holder with sad kitten eyes. Adrien avoided making eye contact, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the intensity of his glare. He hugged his knees to his chest and picked at his shoelaces.

“That was pretty rough, kid.”

Adrien sniffled and roughly smeared away his tears with the back of his hand.

“I was hoping her explanation would make me feel better, Plagg.”

Adrien hugged his knees tighter.

“But it made me feel so much worse.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg crooned, shoulders drooping. He hesitated for only a second before flying to Adrien’s shoulder and nuzzling his holder’s neck.

“She doesn’t want to know me, Plagg. Am I really that bad?”

“Not at all. I already told you that no other Chat Noir could be you. I meant it. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had.”

Adrien’s sniffles quieted, but the tears persisted. He had no idea how to stop them now that they had started. With gut-wrenching envy, Adrien watched the person he hated most engage in chit-chat with his father as if it was the most casual occurrence. The man even went as far as sharing whatever was on his tablet, a feat Adrien had been trying to accomplish since before he could remember. His father always claimed to be private, unwilling to share any kind of imperfect designs with his own son.

But there Lila was. Conversing with his father more than he himself had in the past week.

And Ladybug had given her most sacred secret to Rena Rouge.

Was he invisible?

He felt so small.

Lost at sea.

A blip in the turbulent waters that no one knew was missing.

He was a boy overboard with no life raft. And no one knew to look for him.

His soul was cold and his heart felt numb.

“You know what?” chirped Plagg suddenly, snapping Adrien out of his spiral. “Ladybug is the new Guardian, right?”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. Where was he going with this?

“What’s her only rule?”

“We can’t know each other’s identities.”

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien’s eyes and flipped onto his back, making a show of nonchalance. If this was gonna work, Plagg had to make the kid think it was kind of his own idea. “Who can’t know each other’s identities?”

Adrien was unamused. To him, Plagg was beating a dead horse.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Plagg popped open one eye. He didn’t need to open both for Adrien to see the blatant impishness in them.

“So Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t know each other’s identities. What about . . . other people?”

The blonde ball of despair perked up, hair bouncing into his eyes, though they immediately narrowed at his Kwami’s scheming.

“But Master Fu--”

Plagg interjected, “--who isn’t the guardian anymore.”

Adrien blinked.

Kwamis, Plagg was so close to convincing his kid to be selfish for once. He just needed a push! A hefty, premeditated shove off the Fu-forsaken cliff!

“It’s like I’ve always said. Beg for forgiveness, not for permission.” Plagg folded his little paws across his chest, floating right up to Adrien’s nose. Adrien went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “Ladybug told Rena. So the question is: who’s Chat Noir going to tell?”

“It’s--” Adrien spluttered. “It’s risky, Plagg!”

“And so is being depressed,” Plagg snarled back, surprising Adrien. “Any other person gets minorly inconvenienced and akumatized, who saves them? You--” the Kwami jabbed a paw into Adrien’s nose “--and the bug. But you or Ladybug get akumatized, who saves you?”

Plagg saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s head. He briefly speculated who his kid might choose. Nino would be the obvious choice. He wasn’t as close to Kagami any more, but telling her the secret that had broken them apart would certainly be one hell of an apology. It could even, say, potentially repair what the secret had fractured.

There was also the off chance Adrien might choose Pigtails, who coincidentally doubled as Ladybug. Plagg would have to raid the Agreste kitchen for popcorn if that happened.

“If . . .” Adrien began.

Yes? Plagg internally coaxed.

“If I were to choose someone . . .”

Come on, Adrien.

“I think it would be . . . Nino.”

Yahtzee.

Plagg clapped his paws together over and over, rousing Adrien from his feet like a drill sergeant. “All right, then! Let’s go, let’s go! Hustle, bell boy. We’ve got places to be!”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a squishy triangle, letting loose the most intoxicating aroma Plagg ever did smell. It circled the pair and made Plagg salivate. “Don’t you want this first?”

Did I really forget about camembert? Plagg wondered incredulously.

“I--” Plagg scrambled for an excuse to atone for the touchy-feelies interfering with his one true love, but he came up short. “Of course I want that!”

Adrien smiled fondly at his Kwami and threw the camembert into the air. Not one to miss a beat, Plagg zipped and caught the cheese in his mouth, devouring the thing in one fell swoop.

“Now we can go!” said Plagg, belching remorselessly. Naturally.

Adrien chuckled. When he opened his mouth to say the transformation phrase, however, he faltered. Was he really going to do this? It . . . It felt disobedient, like he was betraying Ladybug. But could she really hold it against him, if she had needed to do the same?

Would his partner reveal herself to be a hypocrite?

The budding consequences of revealing himself to Nino weighed so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure how he would manage batoning into the air once transformed. The aptitude for disappointment just felt so tangible to him, as if it were physically chaining him to the rooftop, a meaty claw so solidly wound ’round his ankles it threatened to pierce his skin.

The thought that Nino might hate him for keeping the secret in the first place made home in Adrien’s cerebral cortex, further immobilizing him. It pulled up a chair and opened the morning newspaper like it was meant to be there, meant to remind him that not everything was just simple. Straightforward. Without fallout.

A tender paw touched his cheek, wiping away a runaway tear.

“Kid,” whispered Plagg. His eyes were misty.

Is that . . . because of me? Because he cares about me?

Holding his gaze a moment longer, Adrien uttered the words that once changed his life forever and seemed to be forever following him with new and improved ways to spice up his routine.

“Claws out.”

The energy washed over him like a cold shower, springing him into action. The need to move, to run, to fly nipped at his heels and before he knew it, he was vaulting to his best buddy’s.

If Adrien was honest, telling Marinette, his dearest friend, was his first instinct. He gripped that realization like it would fly away at a moment’s notice, at the slightest spook (he was on the precipice of truly understanding what his good friend Marinette really meant to him). But he had heard from Nino that Alya and Marinette were holed in for a “girls’ night,” so . . . Nino was the next best thing.

Nino was far from second place, however. Sharing the burden of his greatest secret with the guy who got mad at Gabriel Agreste on Adrien’s behalf was like a breath of fresh air. More than that, it was like Adrien would finally be able to steady his head above the tide.

(Telling Marinette would have been like sprouting gills and uncovering the mystery of the sea up close and personal, but Adrien didn’t want to unpack that particular conclusion yet.)

Wasting no time, Chat Noir landed nimbly on Nino’s apartment balcony and tucked his baton back into place. Giving himself just one more moment before life as he knew it was spun upside down--for better or for worse was yet to be determined--he raised a gloved claw to the sliding glass door and timidly knocked.

Nino’s balcony wasn’t decorated like Marinette’s. A few bikes of various sizes loitered against the railing, collecting dust. A few helmets hung limply from their handlebars, occasionally shifting to and fro in the passive wind. Chat could discern by the light-up training wheels which bike belonged to Nino’s little brother, Chris. The bike--which Chat realized must be new since his last visit--sported black spots against its red frame.

Chat shook his head fondly.

Someone obviously developed an appreciation for the bug after their last akumatization. But as the evening breeze softly twisted the helmet, the vision before him melted him into a puddle of endearment. Nino’s kid brother apparently also had a thing for Chat Noir.

The evidence?

A black helmet topped with an acid green paw print and two plastic cat ears to boot.

Un-fur-tunately, as much as the sight was incredibly thera-paw-tic, it also made his heart throb. His body ached for a larger family, from head to toe and down to his bones.

Adrien didn’t dream often in his sleep, but when he did . . . Oh, when he did, he was blessed with visions of him entering a cozy one-story home (his) and immediately being greeted by giggling and the blinding smiles of three faceless children (also his).

While his hopelessly romantic heart yearned for Ladybug to be his other half in that tender fantasy, lately his subconscious had a habit of inserting a particular blue-haired classmate. It baffled him at first, but he figured seeing her family photo that one time during Animan in addition to experiencing the Dupain-Chengs’ bolstering hospitality personally as both Adrien and Chat Noir made Marinette a safe space for his lonely imagination.

Whoever she married would be one lucky bastard, that was for sure.

The curtains behind the glass door swept dramatically to the side, revealing a bewildered Nino in Rena Rouge-themed pajamas.

“Chat Noir?!” he exclaimed. The glass between them muffled his voice.

A quick scan beyond Nino told Chat that his friend was home alone, but he knew he needed to be certain. “Are you home alone?”

Nino paled before realizing that a superhero asking that question wasn’t as bad as some random adult looking for an easy target. He exhaled, chuckling nervously. “My family went to the ice rink, but skating’s so not my jam.”

So he stayed behind. Good. This was gonna be a piece of cake! Adrien pointed at the door handle and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dude!”

Nino clambered to unlock the door and wrenched it open. The smell of broth and herbs hit Adrien square in the nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “What brings you here? An akuma?”

Stepping over the threshold, Chat tried to make sense of Nino’s question. Why would he come to a civilian if there was an akuma? “No, no akuma, Nino.”

“Oh, good, ’cause I-- Dude, how did you know where my room is?”

If Chat weren’t there to reveal his identity, he might have had a heart attack over accidentally bee-lining to Nino’s room like he’d been there before. He probably would have said something fishy like “In a house like this, it’s a given!” But he didn’t have to make up some ridiculous excuse. He wouldn’t ever have to lie to his best friend.

Never again.

“Because . . .”

Nino eyed Chat expectantly. His room was a mess. He really wasn’t expecting any visitors and his laptop was still open, his music and film ideas scrawled onto random pieces of notebook paper and scattered across his desk like a madman. Or an artist. Was there really a difference?

“Because . . .” Chat began once more.

Oh, gosh. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do the thing! He was alone at sea and no one from the boat had noticed him falling overboard. But maybe, just maybe Nino was the Coast Guard. Maybe Nino would throw him a buoy.

“Because claws in.”

Nino’s entire body went rigid. Crap, crap, crap!

“No, wait--!” Nino shouted, closing his eyes instinctually and reaching for Chat Noir. He had to pull him away from his laptop’s camera field! Had to get him out of sight! Why did he choose now to share Paris’s most coveted secret?!

But . . . he was too late.

The light had already dimmed behind his eyelids by the time his hands were closed around--

“Adrien?” Nino whispered, peering up at his best friend. The duckling he had sworn to protect and teach the ways of life was standing where Chat Noir should be.

Adrien smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a high-pitched laughter rang out and the joy he felt was quickly replaced with sheer terror.

Nino grinned sheepishly.

“Uh haha, you remember my girlfriend Alya who I sometimes Skype with while working on scripts?” Clumsily, Nino rubbed comforting circles into Adrien’s arms as if he could rub away the embarrassment.

“You said you were home alone.”

“Actually, I said my family went to the ice rink.”

Adrien’s eye twitched.

Plagg, who couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events, hovered off to the side and figured if he didn’t move, he could pretend he was invisible.

Sure enough, Adrien craned his head to find an unhinged Alya screeching like a fox (he had seen a video of them laughing once on YouTube; they were so adorable!) from Nino’s computer screen. Behind Alya was a familiar cork board of friends and, well, lots of himself. The walls were pink. She was at Marinette’s like Nino said she would be.

Adrien had expected gasps. Finger pointing. A million questions. What he hadn’t expected was Alya laughing like he was the butt of a joke.

After a good minute of cackling and awkward waiting from the boys, Alya sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she spoke, a dazed smile on her lips.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.” Her words were completely contrasted by the amusement in her voice.

Adrien tried not to faint.

-----

We're now caught up with AO3 here on Tumblr (AO3 is where I first started posting this). Yay! :D Also, was anyone expecting Rena to be there? 😌I wasn't. 😳 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(7/?) Previous | Next

[atmostories]

Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Four Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral, Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Depression Something warm was rubbing the back of your hand. It felt nice, really nice. It was going back and forth across your skin, sometimes in circles, sometimes in lines. It was. . .comforting. . . - “Hey. Hey.” A hand on your shoulder was gently shaking you. You grumbled unhappily at the noise and the movement, not wanting to be woken up.

“Hey, wake up,” Johnny told you. Was it time for work already? It was like you'd only been asleep for ten minutes. You really didn't want to go, couldn't you call in sick just this once?    

“Five more minutes,” you croaked, tightening your grip on the blanket.

“Yeah, you said that fifteen minutes ago. I've already given you half an hour.”

“Can't you tell them I'm sick?”

“What?” You squinted at the bright lights, about to plead Johnny to make up some excuse to your boss, but you suddenly recognised you were in the dojo. It was empty aside from Miguel and Aisha who were grabbing their bags and blankets. Shit, movie night. The mats were sparse, there weren't any blankets, soda cups or pizza boxes anywhere to be seen. Surely they hadn't cleaned up already?

“Where's everyone?” You asked while you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Gone home. Movie finished a while ago.” Johnny was crouched next to you, his hand was still on your shoulder. He immediately pulled away when you glanced at his arm. “Come on, I'll take you to your place.”

“Aren't you driving Miguel back?”

“Aisha's giving him a ride.”

“I'll be fine in a minute.” You took to your feet unsteadily and starting folding up the blanket.

“You can't drive like this.”

“I just need to wake up that's all.”

“I said I'll-”

“Sensei! We're gonna head off now, so thanks for the pizza and the movie was awesome,” Miguel interjected. He was standing by the door and was looking at Johnny before he turned to you. “And thanks for the soda too. I'll see you on Monday, Sensei.”

“Have a good weekend,” you waved at him.

“Night, Diaz,” Johnny replied. The dojo was silent after Miguel left. You were awake enough to feel the tension rolling off of Johnny. He was standing right next to you, his jaw was tight, his arms were stiff at his sides. You had to refold the blanket after messing it up the first time. He stared as you held the blanket out to him but he didn't take it.

���Just let me drive you, okay? I'll come pick you up in the morning so you can get your car,” he explained calmly. Before you could voice a rebuttal, he spoke again. “And no, it's not too much trouble.”

He wasn't giving you any room to manoeuvre. You didn't know why he was so insistent on driving you back. In a few minutes, you'd be fine. The apartment was out of the way, and Johnny would have to come get you in the morning.

After the casual conversation on the way to the pizza place, you didn't want to push your luck and end up with things being awkward or turning into an argument. But you supposed it was too late for that now.

“Thanks, it's kind of you to offer but really I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

“Johnny-”

“You're exhausted. Do you know how loud those kids got? You didn't move at all, you just. . .passed out.” You were taken back by the look on his face. He seemed. . .worried. You lowered your head, unable to say anything back to him. You didn't remember, you didn't remember anything after you'd closed your eyes to get some rest.

That was during the first part of the movie. Johnny said that you'd already asked him for five more minutes before and you didn't remember that at all.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, understanding his insistence. “If you wouldn't mind. . .”

“Can you take that out to the car?” He gestured to the blanket still in your arms.

“Sure.” Johnny grabbed the pillow before you could reach down to pick it up. You walked out of the dojo into the cool night air. While he was turning off the lights and locking up, you buried your face into the blanket and took in a deep lungful. The smell of him threatened to bring back memories of the two of you together, but the worst of it was how it made you feel. Calm, safe, content. You had to pull it away from your face.

After he came over, he took the blanket from you and threw it in the trunk along with the pillow. You got into the car with Johnny wanting nothing more than to curl over and sleep. He asked for your address before he turned on the ignition. When you replied he said he knew where it was, he used to live near there for a couple years with his mom.

He'd always found it difficult to talk about her, but he had reached the point where he could occasionally mention her to you in passing.

The streets were much quieter than earlier. You watched the apartment blocks and the stores pass by. It was a struggle to keep your eyes. You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a quiet sigh.

“You're not sleeping, are you?” He glanced over at you for a brief moment. Your gut twinged with anxiety. Not having the courage to look in his direction, you kept watching the road ahead. Trying to give him an excuse wasn't going to work.  

“It's been a little. . .difficult lately.”

“A little? When was the last time you slept? Properly.” You tried to think back to the last time you'd had a good night sleep but you came up blank. “You don't even know, do you?”

“I've been working a lot, that's all,” you replied dismissively.

“I thought I told you to take it easy.”

“It's not like I have a choice, Johnny.”

“Look, if it's about the money I can help.”

“I'm not taking your money.”

“Not all of it's mine. I still have some of Sid's money left over. Think of it as a loan if you want.”  

“Loan or not,” you clarified.

“Why can't you just accept my help?”

“Are you really saying that? To me?” You asked incredulously. You couldn't help the anger that seeped through your words. The reason why you'd broken up with him in the first place was because he wouldn't accept your help and now he's trying to preach the same at you?

“You don't need to make the same mistakes I did,” he responded quietly. His admission took you by surprise. You'd expected him to get angry, to lash out at you, to meet you punch for punch. Instead he'd done the complete opposite. “The offer's there, if you need it.”

You couldn't say anything. The righteous anger left you as quickly as it came. You should have said something, you should have thanked him at the very least but the words were stuck in your throat.

The rest of the drive was silent. No longer did you feel the urge to sleep, you were wide awake, anxious and guilty thoughts spiralling in your mind. He'd offered his help and your first reaction was to become defensive and reject it. When he pulled up outside your apartment block, you didn't know to do, whether to invite him inside or to simply say goodbye.

“Get some sleep,” Johnny said as he turned to face you, his wrist resting on the steering wheel. “Call me tomorrow and I'll come pick you up.”

“Thanks,” you managed to reply. Getting out of the Firebird, you waved at him before walking towards the entrance of the apartment block. He didn't leave until you were inside the door.

Oddly you got a solid eight hours of sleep that night. You called Johnny in the morning and he said he'd be about forty minutes, giving you time to shower and get changed.

The journey back to the dojo was thankfully uneventful. He asked a couple of questions, how you were, whether you slept. After a brief conversation, he turned the speakers up and you were able to enjoy the music with him. You weren't quite ready to start singing just yet, and neither was Johnny, but he was humming away instead. He parked up next your car which was still in one piece. You thanked him for the ride.

“I'm glad you came last night,” he replied in earnest, not looking in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, your heart started beating a bit faster. “Maybe next time you can make it through the first act.”

You huffed out a soft laugh and nodded in agreement. You got out of his car and went to your own, taking out your keys on the way. There was going to be a next time? What movie was he going to choose next? Things seemed to have settled out between you and Johnny, even after the series of disagreements you had with him last night. It could have ended much worse. You were grateful that it didn't.

Johnny honked as he pulled out of the lot with his music blasting. You couldn't help but shake your head and smile as he drove off.

Maybe things weren't so bad.

- - -

Going to the dojo was no longer the dreaded affair that it used to be. Instead, it became something to look forward to. Johnny was getting along better with you, he didn't seem to be avoiding you like he was before. The tension had fizzled out and was replaced by something. . .friendly.

You were able to sleep a bit more even though you were still working a lot. It was surprising how much of a difference it made. You really seemed to be getting a handle on things. When you were sorting through the paperwork and the student fees, you weren't making so many mistakes. It saved lots of time because you didn't have to triple check everything.

A class was due to start in about fifteen minutes and already a fair number of kids were in the dojo. Miguel had chatted to you for a little bit when you arrived and Hawk had glared at you from afar as per usual. You wondered pointlessly how to repair things. Any attempts to try and talk to him would certainly be rebuffed, most likely with an insult. He'd already purposefully bumped into you, his dislike for you was made perfectly clear.

There didn't seem to be anything you could do. It wasn't like you could explain the intricacies of your relationship with Johnny. Even if you did he'd take his Sensei's side. You resigned yourself to giving him as much space as possible, hoping his disdain might naturally peter out with time.

Johnny came into the office while you were sorting through some consent forms from three new students.

“What's this?” He challenged, holding up a crumpled twenty dollar bill.

“Uhh. . .”

“What? Didn't think I'd notice?” He sounded only vaguely annoyed and he seemed rather amused by your guilty expression. “How about you earn it back and let me borrow you for this class?”

“Borrow meaning. . .you're gonna throw me onto the floor?”

“Only a couple of times. Five at the most. Well, definitely not above double digits,” he replied with a glint in his eyes, you couldn't help but roll your own. “I'm gonna show the kids a few self defence moves. It's better if I can demonstrate them with another adult.”

“Right, of course,” you mumbled sarcastically.

"Come on, it's not going to hurt." You stared at him for a few moments with your eyebrows raised. "It'll hurt a little bit, but you'll be fine. It's nothing you haven't done before."

“Alright,” you agreed, knowing that he wouldn't purposefully cause you injury.

It wasn't until half way through the class that he waved you to come into the dojo. The kids were all sitting around the edge of the mat and were waiting attentively. You were uneasy as you took off your shoes and socks. Focusing your attention on Johnny, you bowed before walking up to him. The nerves started to ease.

“Sometimes when fighting an opponent, you will be faced with two difficult choices,” he explained as he circled around you on the mat. “Okay, pay attention.”

Johnny stood right in front of you with his back turned and his knees bent. He widened his stance before taking a hold of your arm to wrap around his throat. Grabbing onto your other arm, he tucked it against his side and latched his fingers around your wrist.

“Your opponent has your neck, you have their elbow,” he described to the kids, pressing his chin into your elbow. His movement forced you to have a tighter grip around his throat. Automatically you tried to shift forwards to give him some room but he hunkered his chin down even further.

“If you try to break out. . .” He let go of your wrist and tapped your arm which was around his neck. Inferring what he wanted you to do, you secured your free arm around the back of his neck, applying pressure from both sides. “Your opponent is going to dig in and put you to sleep.”

His voice was strained, you could hear that his airway was slightly restricted. Your attempt to twist your elbow away from him failed. What was he doing? Was he trying to make it more realistic for the kids? It didn't feel right, especially after everything that happened with Kreese. It was almost as if he wanted you to hurt him.

“If you go for the opponent's ribs,” he explained, breaking out of your hold and placing his elbow on your side. You lifted up your knee in response. “You completely expose your chest.”

Johnny returned to the original position, with his hand on your wrist and you had an arm around his neck.

“Two difficult choices. What do you do?” He asked the students. They looked on curiously, unable to come up with an answer. But you knew what he was going to do. You tried to brace yourself.

He kicked the back of your leg, taking both of you down onto the mat. You managed not to fall on top of him and you were able to keep your arms up to reduce the impact. He helped you up off the mat and explained to his students to damn the consequences and power forward. After adjusting his gi, he told them to make a choice, to make a move and go all in.

He went through more self defence positions with you, ensuring that the kids could see exactly what he was doing to counterattack. Johnny was detailed in his explanations and as a result his students only asked the occasional question. Though you ended up on the mat a couple more times, it wasn't too bad. Johnny was careful not to make you go down awkwardly.

Thankfully he didn't get you to put him in another chokehold. If you were honest with yourself, it had worried you. You were probably looking into it too much. When he had finished his demonstration, he paired off the kids to do some practice amongst themselves.

You bowed before you left the mat and grabbed your shoes and socks. Sitting back down in the office, you were aching a little bit all over but nothing hurt in particular. After Johnny dismissed the class, Miguel came in to chat.

“Sensei didn't hurt you too bad, did he?” he asked, looking over you as if he was trying to spot any obvious injury.

“Nah, I've had worse.”

“Really?”

“I'm guessing he's already made sure that you can take a punch to the face right?”

“Yeah. . .” he replied, not quite getting your meaning. He raised his eyebrows when he finally realised. “Sensei punched you in the face?”

“Oh yeah. It didn't bleed too bad though.” Miguel smiled at that. “He's a good teacher. I'm glad he has you guys as his students.”

“I think you mean the other way around?”

“You're a sweet kid.”

“My Yaya would agree, but my mom. . .? I'm not so sure.” Before you could reply, Johnny called out for Miguel and he left with a rushed goodbye. About ten seconds later, Johnny came into the office.  

“Feeling delicate?” he teased, perching on the other side of the desk. Your reply was to shake your head at him. “It was a good class. I think the kids learnt a lot today.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

“And you didn't even hit double digits.” He told you, slapping down the twenty dollar bill in front of you. When you went to take it, he snatched it away jokingly. “Did you really earn this? I mean I deserve a couple more body slams at the very least.”

Standing up from the chair, you reached forwards and managed to grab onto the bill.

“Maybe next time,” you told him. He got off the desk, winking at you as he left the office.

- - -

You dreamt about him that night. It was visceral, you hadn't dreamt of something so vivid for a very long time. The memory of his hands on you was too fresh, it had sunk down into your subconscious. You woke up longing, aching, wanting nothing more than his arms to wrap around your body. When you remembered what happened the day before you could still feel him on your skin.

It was like something had broken inside of you.

Being busy at work kept you from thinking about it too much. Almost a week passed before the memory had faded enough where you could think about it without a reaction. The next time you were in the dojo, Johnny borrowed you again for another demonstration. You had come prepared with more comfortable clothes and shoes that didn't take so long to take off.

The session was about weapons and how the kids would defend themselves against someone who was armed. He gave you a piece of plastic to use as a fake knife.

When you were on the mats, he stood before you in a fighting position, explaining the situation to the kids. He raised his eyebrows to signal for you to attack. You quickly struck out your arm which he easily blocked. He knocked the pretend knife out of your grasp and took control of your wrist. With his other arm, he grabbed onto the back of your shoulder and forced you to bend over. He turned you around slowly so each of the kids could see his grip.

You went over numerous scenarios with him, You would attack him from different angles, sometimes keeping the knife concealed until the fight was underway. It was easy to anticipate what he needed you to do, it made the demonstration flow unhindered. Johnny explained one final situation to the kids where they should consider disarming their opponent from a distance.

He signalled for you to advance but you came in too fast, and he ended up kicking your wrist. The fake knife flew out of your hand and you held in a soft grunt from the impact. Johnny must have seen it on your face because he checked on you when he finished the class.

Coming round to your side of the desk, he leant up against it and took your hand in his lap. His fingers began to rub against your wrist.

“Where does it hurt?” You answered by wincing when he pressed his thumb against a certain spot. “Put some ice on it later if it's still bothering you. Otherwise I would recommend that you don't operate any heavy machinery.”

“Oh, is that your professional advice, Dr. Lawrence?” You replied in jest.

“Is that attitude my patient's giving me? Because you won't get a sticker if you're not careful.” He slid off the desk and opened up one of the filing cabinets.

“You actually have stickers?” You exclaimed in disbelief as he pulled out a sticker with the Cobra Kai logo on it.

“Some of the kids ordered a bunch from the internet,” he replied, letting you take it. The sticker was almost the size of your hand, you wondered where you going to put it. After thanking him for the present, he headed back into the dojo to get some equipment out.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, all of the kids left except for Miguel. Johnny was training him by himself and was holding out some pads for him to kick. With another batch of paperwork complete, you decided it was a good place to call it for the day. You waved to the two of them as you left and walked out of the front door.

As you pulled out your keys, you were surprised to see Hawk leaning against the door of your car, blocking you from getting inside. His arms were crossed, he looked impatient like he'd been waiting for you since class had ended.

“Everything okay, Hawk?” You asked as you approached him. He shifted off your car, uncrossing his arms and balling his hands into fists.

“Why do you keep coming around here,” Hawk said bitterly with a sneer on his face. “You should stay away from Sensei.”

“He asked me to be here,” you responded calmly, holding your ground when Hawk moved into your personal space.

“Sensei only asks you to come here because he feels sorry for you. You already dumped him, haven't you hurt him enough?” You looked away from him for a moment, taking in his hurtful words and wondering how much truth there was to them.

“Look. . .I understand that you care about your Sensei, but that's his choice to make. It's not your business.”

“Of course it's my business, he's my Sensei! You're interfering with our lessons. He gets all weird and distracted whenever you're around,” he told you angrily, moving even closer to get right up in your face. “So. Stay. Away from him.”

You had to take a step back from him to try and deescalate things. “Does he know that you're talking to me about this?” Hawk pursed his lips, it was clear that he hadn't talked to Johnny at all. “I'm sorry that you-”

You reeled backwards in surprise when he punched you in the face. Your lips began to throb, blood filled your mouth and it was already dripping down to your chin. It was a solid hook, Johnny had taught him well. Hawk's eyes were wide open like he didn't mean to hit you. After wiping your chin, you turned to the side and spat out the blood onto the ground.

“I'm sorry that you feel this way,” you told him, finishing off what you attempted to say before. It hurt to move your lips. You weren't angry at Hawk, he was a kid trying his best to protect someone he cared about. Giving him a wide berth, you managed to get in your car. You turned on the ignition and pulled out of the lot without checking in the mirror to see how bad your face looked.

Was Hawk right? Was it pity? You couldn't stop thinking about what he said as you drove back to the apartment. Was Johnny only asking you to come to the dojo because he felt sorry for you? There was truth in it somewhere, you could feel it, but you couldn't exactly see where.

Johnny might have asked for your help but you were the one who had taken that photo of the Cobra Kai flyer. You were the one who, the very next day, went straight to the dojo to satisfy your curiosity.

If you had minded your business, Johnny would never have sought you out. He would never have called. He wouldn't even know where you lived. Had he sensed your desperation to be close to him? It was only after parking up outside the apartment that you inspected the damage. You winced as you gently touched your top and bottom lip. It wasn't pretty, it was going to take a while to heal.

Running your teeth over one of the scabs, you felt a sense of relief when it started bleeding.

- - -

Smoking some weed was more awkward than you thought it was going to be. Though it hurt your lips, you didn't care, you needed something to calm you down. After work for the next few days, you got a good buzz going every night. It was better than letting the thoughts of Johnny run rampant in your mind.

When he called, you briefly considered giving him some excuse to get out of going. You wanted to refuse and have him try to convince you to come, hear the need in his voice. Hawk had probably said the first mean thing that came to his mind. Even if he was right, Johnny wouldn't ask you to be there solely out of pity, he needed you to help him and that was a good enough reason for you.

Parking up at the dojo, you quickly went over the excuse about what happened to your face in case anyone asked. It was nothing more than a silly accident where you bit your lip by mistake.

As you headed inside, there were quite a few kids already there, Hawk was amongst them. Instead of his customary grimace, guilt was on his face for a brief moment before he turned away.

Thankfully none of the kids asked what happened to your face and you were able to make it to the office unchallenged. As you sorted through some consent waivers that needed to be copied, Johnny came out of the storage room hauling some punching bags with Miguel and a couple others.

You went over to the printer by the door with the waivers and started making two copies of each one. Johnny manoeuvred a punching bag to the edge of the mat while nodding to the kids that were coming into the dojo. As soon as he turned to face your direction, he spotted you and his expression fell.

He immediately walked over and you pressed your lips together in a weak smile.

“What happened?” He demanded, his hand reaching up to rest on your chin. He tilted back your head and inspected the damage. You swallowed nervously, taken back by the seriousness of his reaction.

“Oh I'm fine. . .it's stupid really,” you replied nonchalantly and shrugged. When you tried to lean back from his touch, he simply moved forwards.

“What happened?” He repeated, his fingers pulling down the skin by your mouth so he could get a better look at your lip.

“I bit down on my lip that's all.” He suddenly stopped moving, his eyes met yours. Your gut twisted in nerves from the way he was looking at you.

“You're lying,” he said coldly, your heart aching at his words. His hand slipped down to the scruff of your neck and his grip on your shirt began to tighten. Anger and hurt filled his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“It's really nothing.”

“Who. Did. This?” He growled, baring his teeth. Both of his hands were gripping onto your shirt, forcing you to move right up close to him. You could feel his hot breath on your face. He wasn't just angry, he was enraged. You'd never seen him like this, not even when he'd gotten into fights in the past.

“It was an accident,” you explained, gently placing your hand on one of his wrists. His body twitched like he was going to react badly to the touch. It didn't look as if he believed you at all. Rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand, you took in a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. You hoped that the movement might calm him down a little.

“It was just an accident,” you reiterated firmly. You weren't lying, as far as you were concerned that's all it was. “I swear to you.” Would he even believe your promise? Or was he too far gone? There was no change in his expression so you couldn't tell. Again you breathed in and out deliberately so that his hands would feel the motion of your chest.

“Is everything okay, Sensei?” You heard Miguel ask apprehensively. Turning to look at him, you saw all of the kids staring at you and Johnny. Worry was apparent on all of their expressions, even Hawk's.  

“Yeah, we're okay.” You smiled reassuringly at Miguel and the rest of the kids. “Isn't that right, Sensei?”

Hopefully calling him that rather than his name would remind him where he was and what he was doing in front of his students. When you looked back at Johnny, he seemed to snap out of the haze of anger. He shifted his focus onto the kids and immediately let go of your shirt. You placed a heavy hand on Johnny's shoulder and slapped it twice in an effort to convey that both of you were perfectly fine.

He pulled away from you and went to the storage room, with a deeply concerned Miguel in tow. It took a few moments for the tension in the dojo to dissipate and the kids soon returned to getting ready for class. Straightening out your shirt, you sat down in the chair and let out an unsteady breath.

Fuck, what just happened? - - - Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife @80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch  @wholesomehen  @deadpoolgirl23   @sorryyoureoutofmyleague​