#What can I say I actually really like this au

[voidsuites]

ARTRICK BOT RELEASE !!! (11/13/24) ⌢⠀ 🎾 .ᐟ

art donaldson ・゜゜・．coach's orders. you’re art’s newest player— an up-and-coming name in the tennis world— but you’re stubborn and prone to working yourself to the bone in the name of the game. tashi would’ve loved you if she’d gotten her hands on you first, but you’re here with him, on his private backyard court, listening to his advice about your game and ultimately, your career. and damnit, art’s not going to take that for granted (even if it means pushing the delicate boundaries between an athlete and their coach). you’ve got to learn how to relax, and art’s not opposed to bending you over the net if that’ll fix things.

art donaldson ・゜゜・．lesson planning. it’s your first year having a hands-on role in building out and finalizing the curriculum for the middle school english department, but your focus has been equally split between what books your kids are going to read and the head of the english department himself, mr. donaldson. you’d been wary to accept such a high responsibility in the first place, but he’d insisted that you help him review the materials during prep week, and you'd never say no to art… even if it means awkwardly dancing around the fact that you’re both clearly into one another— oh, and that he’s finally taken off his wedding ring.

art and patrick ・゜゜・．night of the living frat! it really should be sacrilegious that sigma chi’s hosting a costume party just a week after halloween, but none of the brothers had been able to resist yet another party before finals overtook the rest of the semester. besides— who passes up a chance to dress up and drink? the music’s loud, the drinks are a-flowin’, and you’d never be able to tell that tonight isn’t halloween. no one’s the wiser… which only makes it harder for art and patrick to keep their hands to themselves and their heads out of the gutter when you eventually materialize. hopefully they can convince you to stay the night… if they can remember how to share first.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．mr. z. everyone loves mr. zweig— or “mr. z” as the students like to call him— and as the newest teacher amongst the faculty ranks, he’s quick to make nice and befriend everyone, including you. normally, you’d normally be skeptical of a washed-up pro tennis player coming to fill in the vacant gym teacher position, but you instead find yourself spending more time with patrick and enjoying yourself. it’s only a matter of time before you realize that lines are blurring and that whatever is going on between you both is way more than a friendship between fellow teachers coworkers.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．shopping spree. frequent trips to the high-end side of the city had never been your sort of thing thing, but now that you’re dating patrick they’ve become a weekly occurrence. you never leave empty-handed, and it’s always on his dime (at his insistence, of course, it’s all chump change to him anyway). who cares about the staring you two get when he totes you and your purchases of the day around the city?— he’s the one that gets to go about his business with you on his arm. everyone else is just lucky he just can’t help showing you off while he does.

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH FOR FOR 5.2K AND 2 MIL+ CHATS! this is actually insanity i don't even know what to say or how to feel but thank you thank you 😭😭😭😭😭😭 challengers brainrot has struck again (big surprise) these are all mostly aus— the art and pat teacher bots (lesson planning + mr. z) are based off of headcanons by dearest mars (the lovely @saintzweig) and the shopping spree pat bot is based off of the moodboard by my true love @diyasgarden !!! please please please please please give my lovely moots a follow bc without them (and everyone else) i would not have any ideas and you all would just be subjected to the whistling wind that blows in my head when nothing is going on in there (which happens often!) love love LOVE you guys for real i am so grateful for all of the support and giggles that we all have <33333333333

[wasyago]

hello! Im just wondering if there’s any side effects Etho has because of staying in the cave in trails gone cold au or did it just change his hair.

good question! probably? this hasn't really been discussed or thought through, so don't treat it as 100% true, just me thinking out loud.

❄️ talking visual changes, his hair and eyes changed color permanently, his skin is now paler, even if the effects lessened when he was out of the cave, nothing is fully reversible. i dont imagine there's a way to get rid of the sculk that is in his body already, because it's like- everywhere. in his blood, in his lungs, in his brain, in his bones. it's dormant and doesn't do him any harm, and maybe in 10 or 20 years his body will slowly get rid of it, but its an if not a when.

❄️ in terms of other changes... i imagine he's constantly freezing now, nothing ever helping to warm him up. his nervous system is messed up beyond repair, so he could probably shove his hand into fire and get burned and still be freezing.

❄️ he probably also always feels slightly feverish and weak? you know how when you're ill and you stand up to do something but standing up takes all your energy and you're too tired now? that kind of thing. he's just tired all the time.

and then there's also all the indirect changes?

❄️ he lost an eye. goodbye depth perception, and layered with his other changes he's probably very clumsy now.

❄️ i imagine his hands tremble more often than not, both because of the freezing and because of his strained psyche.

❄️ dude is like. traumatized. very badly. he decided to leave one of his closest friends to die so he himself could escape. his other closest friend was a better person than him but died because of it. he never said goodbye to any of them, he can never apologize. they're gone forever, and they're still down there. etho survived but at what cost and was it actually worth it?

❄️ i don't know if he feels any sort of calling from the cave, but maybe? maybe it's the sort of thing where he can't tell if it's his own thoughts or not, because it could be a cave trying to get him back or it could be his own wish to return in attempt to "fix it".

i also wanna say, poor gem. she has to take care of this guy now and im so sorry to her. it's gonna be a very long time until he even starts healing, and it's gonna be a very difficult time. there's like, so much to say about gem too, because she also lost two of her best friends and she wasn't even there to witness it, all she gets is her traumatized brother...

[keferon]

Well I just finished improvising chapter one of Mecha AU :D

I recommend you read it on BlueSky because the formatting and redacting there is better but you also can read it all here under the cut

Summary:

Jazz huddles in the cockpit, turns on the comm channel, and habitually ignores the static

“This is 1061. I don't know if you guys can hear me, but I have news. I've found other mechs in space! But..”

He taps nervously on the console panel

“I am not sure they're piloted by humans.”

---------

Jazz isn't sure at what exact moment his life turned into anime completely. It was probably when a huge monster appeared in the sky above his home? Yeah...it must have been then.

The big green thing blew up almost half the city before it was destroyed with so much explosives that the government probably had to empty their pockets to scrape together that much.

In the future, of course, they had to repeat the feat.

And then again.

And again.

Either the government of these monsters had a lot of extra money, or the monsters were free volunteers.

Jazz tried to watch from a distance. Ideally from a place where it would be hard to yank him out. Even with a stick. Even for a massive space monster.

%%%%

If you think about it. This wasn't anime yet. It was more in apocalypse film territory.

The anime started when a smiling man in a surprisingly expensive suit came to Jazz and offered to take a few tests to see if Jazz was suitable for some sort of special earth protection program of his. The pay was suspiciously good, and the list of medical forms was suspiciously long. But last week, a huge shark-like thing had trampled Jazz's last workplace and well...there wasn't much else for him to go to.

The man smiled and looked like a toothpaste advertisement as he shook his hand.

Yeah, the anime definitely started with that.

-----

It's actually amazing how a shitty thing like alien monsters and giant robots can become habitual. Maybe even beloved. Not monsters, of course. No.

But robots? Definitely.

Jazz is one hell of a pilot. One of the best, as his superiors like to say. They don't really have a way to test who's the greatest pilot in the world because the life span of the average pilot isn't usually very long. Jazz doesn't mind. He knows he's good, but he doesn't want to think about how good. Other pilots like to compete for the top of the charts. Numbers, kills, promotions and everything else that goes with it.

Jazz is mostly just vibing.

His early tests don't show very high or impressive potential for compatibility with combat mech technology, but once he's out of the simulator and into the real thing....

Jazz can't explain it. He just feels it. He just stops seeing the dashboard in front of him, stops thinking about how comfortable the pilot's seat is or how to hold the controls.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and stops being human.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and turns into metal and machinery. Rockets and joints. Hydraulics and thousands of sensors.

His hands become huge, able to crush a car. His legs gain new articulations. His body moves in ways completely impossible for a human and it feels so familiar, as if he's always been like this.

It feels like him. Like home.

Jazz isn't interested in promotions because important people aren't allowed to operate mechs. Not allowed to be mechs.

Jazz wants to be a mech.

He's just not ready to trade that feeling for anything else.

————

War gets crazier as time goes on.

Every time Jazz thinks it's going to end now, someone steps on Chekhov's gun in the ceiling.

The aliens aren't going to die out or leave.

Humans refuse to go extinct.

It's a tug-of-war that inevitably leads both sides to think that if they can't win with the ‘pull harder’ method, they should try something new. Something creative.

That’s how Jazz finds himself in the middle of developing a mech capable of travelling through space.

Because whoever is making the decisions up there has decided it's time to get more aggressive and start fighting on more than just their own territory.

The aliens have so far been too comfortable taking advantage of the fact that space is inaccessible to humans. They've always had places to retreat to. Places to hide to lick their wounds. Jazz thinks it makes sense. Sort of. If there's anything left in this world that respects logic.

The development department takes some time and an absolutely obscene amount of money to figure out how to launch a giant robot into space without the human inside it turning to paste.

They show an incredible ability to organize space and play a game of tetris where instead of blocks there are vital systems like air storage and provisions falling from the ceiling.

Jazz, as someone who has been forced to participate in hundreds of their tests and observe their tenacity, is genuinely proud of them.

His pride even overcomes the fact that they have been close to turning him into a paste more times than he is comfortable counting.

They stick him in hundreds of variations of different armor and plating and make him perform the same boring motions a million times to “make sure there's no risk of depressurization”.

Sometimes he's shoved to the bottom of a swimming pool and asked to perform mission simulations without coming out of the water. This is the only part of development that Jazz actually genuinely loves. Swimming is fun when you're metal and don't have to breathe.

%%%%%%%

At the end of the tests, Jazz is left with a hundred or so system upgrades, increased weight by almost half, nice new armor, and added height. His legs now have another joint in them. Some of the pilots complain that it hurts them to even look at Jazz's freakishly bendy legs, but their opinion fades under the weight of delight.

Jazz loves the new joints. New joints mean he can navigate even wackier surfaces now.

For the first official space mission, the superiors choose him without much hesitation.

Space is unfamiliar territory. And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully recreate its conditions without being there. This means that no amount of training and simulations can fully prepare pilots for what will be waiting for them there. They're going to have to adjust. Improvise. Find ways and solutions on the spot.

Jazz is good at that. Exceptionally and impressively good. He also has enough thirst for adventures in him to go along with the idea.

But most importantly, he's undeniably the best when it comes to controlling a battle mech. His ability to “ I don’t know I’m just vibing you know” is envy-inducing and wary at the same time. Mechs are huge and heavy, and in the hands of someone who doesn't fully know what to do, they're pretty damn clumsy.

Jazz is one of the few who can control a battle mech as naturally as his own human body.

In theory that means if he's thrown into a zero-gravity environment, he can handle it just fine. No worse than if he could do it without the mech. Or at least not fail dramatically enough to embarrass the entire engineering department.

Jazz promises to do his best, shakes all the hands necessary for pretty pictures, and uploads a file with simple instructions.

This mission shouldn't be anything too bizarre except for its location. He is warned that a lot can go wrong, but then immediately assured that a whole crowd of experts will be waiting and watching and will respond at his first call.

Jazz politely thanks them and does a few simple movements to make sure all the joints in his legs are working properly.

His boss smiles like he's advertizing toothpaste and promises him a nice big raise if he'll continue to work on space missions.

Jazz somehow manages to forget that this is where anime usually begins.

________________

Things are going very wrong very fast. Most unfairly, for a completely unexplainable reason.

Jazz is quite successful at getting around in space. The lack of gravity is incredibly uncomfortable at first, but he adapts. It takes time to understand the movement, but nothing beyond the plan.

At one point he even has fun. He spots a satellite orbiting the Earth and waves cheerfully at it, hoping it is recording.

He confidently completes the exploration and is about to turn back when something huge and possessing an uncomfortable number of limbs materializes in front of him literally out of nowhere.

He is surprised and a little disgusted, but the monster's appearance wasn't entirely unforeseen. His instructions are simple. Anything larger than an elephant and not a human being must become dead.

A fight with a strange space thing is no problem. The problem is that the thing is losing very quickly and is clearly panicking about it. Jazz is just about to rip another leg off of it when an unidentifiable bright green light flashes around them and suddenly the whole world starts to feel bloody wrong. Space feels like it's stretching and shrinking at the same time. Jazz can't tell if he's feeling the pressure or if he's being torn apart.

He's screaming. Not from pain, but from surprise.

And finds himself standing in the middle of a crowd of similar monsters.

The one he was just about to kill makes some gurgling, panicked noises. The other monsters freeze, either surprised or frightened, it's impossible to tell.

Jazz manages to notice that he's inside some kind of room. His brain finds no suitable alternative for a quick description. He has never been in such strange places before

He doesn't even have time to take a step when there's a muffled click from behind and he's blinded by the green light again.

He doesn't know what to expect when he opens his eyes.

The first time, the strange green light dragged him through every possible sensation in just a couple of seconds, and that was enough to scare the hell out of him.

The second time, it feels like it lasts forever. He tries to look at his watch, but his eyes refuse to work properly. Which ones of his eyes? He doesn't know. One overlaps with the other. He feels terribly tiny but at the same time it's like his body is everywhere at once. Somewhere in the far corner of his brain, flickers the thought that mixing experimental technology with obscure alien magic is a spectacularly bad idea. The amount of things that could go wrong wouldn't fit in any insurance policy, even if they were writing small text under a microscope. Who ‘they’ are, he's not imagining. His boss and his advertising teeth probably.

Jazz clenches his fists, closes his eyes, and tries his hardest to at least just not pass out. The Engineering Department will owe him so much pool time for all of this.

That's assuming he survives long enough to see the engineering department again.

He tries to focus on the simple things.

Everything around him feels like ‘WRONG’.

He can't breathe.

Maybe the urge to stay awake has been overrated.

He's falling.

*********

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is cold hands on his head.

Someone is gently turning it, probably to examine him.

There are voices above him. He doesn't recognize them and can't distinguish what they're saying.

The palms of the hands are hard. They feel like they're made of metal.

He hears more voices.

For a scary second he worries his brain is broken, but the more he listens the more he realizes it's just another language.

A completely...unfamiliar language. Unlike anything he's ever heard before.

Hands move away and he chooses that moment to open his eyes.

Long time ago, he used to go to all sorts of movie and art fan festivals. There were always a lot of cosplayers trying to outdo each other in the art of character creation.

The picture that meets him is actually a surprisingly strong reminder of those times.

The people crowded around him are extremely colorful. Also quite small compared to his metallic body.

The strange thin lilac creature is saying something. It sounds questioning.

The other lilac creature shakes its head negatively and judging by its intonation redirects the question to someone else.

Jazz tries to figure out if the green light could have made him see things. Because it's unlikely the afterlife looks like this.

Someone very furry peeks out from behind the backs of the lilac creatures and authoritatively pulls out a thing that looks like a regular tablet. They poke at it for a couple seconds and then show everyone in the crowd a picture of some kind of robot simultaneously pointing at Jazz.

The crowd disagrees.

One of them says something poking Jazz with his hand. He wonders idly if it's the same hand. No, it's the wrong size.

The picture changes to a different one.

The effect is the same.

Another round of poking and prodding later, Jazz's fried brain gets it.

They're trying to figure out what he is.

Little colorful things. Probably never seen a robot like this before?

He doesn't have time to process the thought properly when the floor he's lying on starts to shake violently.

The creatures shriek in frustration and Jazz, who until then had been sure he was in some kind of building, suddenly realizes that. Oh, shit. No. The surface is moving.

Is he being taken somewhere???

Jazz looks around in confusion, trying to figure out who it belongs to.

He makes an attempt to jump to his feet and all the creatures crowding around him all start screaming at the same time. He doesn't understand it, but it sounds hysterical, angry and so damn unpleasant to his poor head. Someone shrieks and from somewhere to his left there are sharp clicks and the floor shakes and Jazz wants to go back to the bottom of the pool where it's dark and quiet and

Someone picks him up under his elbows from behind. Not exerting much pressure or holding him down. Just offering support.

A new voice comes from the back of the room. Louder and much lower than all the previous ones and, notably...not from the floor.

And meets the gaze of another giant robot.

__________________________

Side note: to those of you who went to hang out with me while I was writing. Thank you hejdhfngn I appreciate the company❤️

Oh by the way I’m in the process of writing the Mecha pilot au right now you can read if you want :D

[rini-rushed]

less doesn’t always mean lukewarm.

☆ sae x reader ^^ (gender not mentioned)

★ fluff or smth, no bllk au

☆ reader is described to have a lot of distraction problems, quick thoughts and random prompts stacked in their head, idk how to explain it i just had this feeling today so i wrote this with emotions tethered to it

notes: based off an experience i had today, except i was spiraling alone + the ending derailed and became SHIT tbh😕

tapping your pen against the pages of your barely touched notebook, you blink as your mind wandered to random places.

what time is it? did you ever submit that report? what does TGIF mean? is modern art actually ugly? did you ever clean out your locker? does it actually make sense to have the metric system? is moving to north pole for the penguins THAT bad of a life plan?

your train of thought was on a roll to say the least, stopping at short term stations, new random and shortsighted ideas and "plans" for side quests pinging in your head.

the notion was quick and swift in your head, twitching your facial muscles ever so slightly as you hopped on one cloud to the next. it was all quite minimally amusing to you, but it certainly wasn't for your study partner.

"stop that."

click!

"stop what?"

you straightened your posture, stopping your pen fidgeting, rolling your eyes to the face in front of you.

"making dumb faces, you haven't even written anything down." sae sighs slightly, you keenly notice the little wrinkle that imprinted itself onto his brow.

then your attention pays itself to the words he just said, you look down at your paper and sure enough, the only markings on your page were little dots that were the outcome of your no-thought-shuffle of your fingers.

you couldn't help but frown a bit, pursing your lips in slight disappointment at the lack of writing done.

at your silence, you could just feel the damn sigh that was stolen from sae's figure, that only dampened your mood a bit, tilting your head lower.

you repositioned the pen in your hand, now in the position of writing, your eyes dragged themself against the table, clawing and resisting as your vision was overwhelmed with words and symbols.

the textbook's big paragraphs made you think and process, like a loading screen over your head, engulfing yourself in mumbo-jumbo, losing yourself in the walls of text.

maybe after rereading the same sentence for the nth time and writing down a singular “the” you already feel drained.

noticing your overwhelmingly heightened distress, sae calmly closes his book and shuts off his laptop silently.

you see his neutral look on his face as he’s gathering his things, you can feel your stomach drop, was he already that annoyed?

you bit the inside of your cheek.

you couldn’t blame him.

so you keep your head and your field of view low as the events played out before you. they come and go, your study partners, your peers.

you gripped your pen a tiny bit harder at the thoughts, now bubbling up from the dark crevices of your heart. doubt and shame inking your insides as it immobilizes your lungs, you could feel your heart-

“what are you doing? come on”

? you look up at him.

“come on stupid, we’re going on a break, we can’t get shit done if you’re like this.”

his words are blunt, but they don’t hurt you, they’re just pointing out the obvious.

he’s being stupid about being nice.

but you don’t hesitate to pack your things too, although you feel his eyes on you as you do so, you don’t feel the weight of pressure.

the weight of needing to check yourself, how you’re perceived, how you’re supposed to be acting. he’s just, observing you.

and so you pack up and follow him out, he takes you to an area that’s slightly more populated, no longer in the library, you’re in the courtyard. he gets you a snack from the vending machine, and opens a bag as you open your mouth.

letting the long stream of thoughts out, sae answer minimally, it was all you really needed, some simple answers for some simple questions.

“what time is it?”

“1:45pm.”

“did I ever submit that report? ”

“you can check now.”

“what does TGIF mean? ”

“thank god it’s friday”

“is modern art actually ugly? ”

“up to you, artists won’t care”

“did I ever clean out my locker? ”

“we don’t use them anymore.”

“does it actually make sense to have the metric system? ”

“americans are stupid.”

“is moving to north pole for the penguins THAT bad of a life plan?”

”yes.”

neither of you really kept track of time, not that either of you bothered to. sae only looked at you with that blank face of his, and your mouth kept moving.

sae knew that this was taking more time than if he had just stayed at the library with you.

but he knew better.

he knew that bitching to you to fix your attitude can’t help with the situation, so why worsen it.

he rather see you being comfortable and “wasting time” rather than being shackled to a task when you’re obviously not mentally into it.

long story short: if it means you’ll be less lukewarm, he’ll take it.

★ 終わり☆

holy shit why was that ending so bad 😢

tags: @tofumiarchives @rinitoshiplzdateme @fishii28

@shrii-kk

@reapkusho @ac3ss @tired-xyra-urstruly

renaissance is such a pretty word btw

[concreteangel92]

The Angel Of The Night

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: smut, PiV, oral (female receiving) praise kink, slight obsessive/stalker elements (this is based off of the ghost of the opera house himself 🤣) talks of the death of loved ones, dark romance, I’m pretty sure that’s it

So this has been in the works since August when I watched the phantom of the opera in Greece on my first night there haha I’ve always loved this show (west end and film!) and I even have a tattoo dedicated to it so it was a no brainer to me that Noah would fit perfectly into this aesthetic!

The mask (especially the new one!!) the glove, his voice all mixed with an old theatre and gothic aesthetic and atmosphere? Hell fucking yes!!

Remember that this is an inspired fic so you’ll see familiar names, themes, etc but it’s not the actual whole story! But if you’re a fan of the soundtrack, you may recognise a few lyrics here and there 🤭

I hope you all enjoy it, it’s a long one so grab yourself a cuppa and I’ll see you on the next fic. Also please let me know your thoughts!! I’d love to know what you all think as this is definitely the longest I’ve ever spent writing one story haha let me know, you can always message me anonymously if you’re shy 🖤

Tags: @triedbimsoblu333 @I00na24 @iluvmewwwww75 @veronicaphoenix @tosoundlessdarkistare @specialstay @dsireland86 @philomenie @clingylittlebun-blog @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lilcrazy011

Masterlist

You’d been with your theatre company since you were a child, having lost your parents at a young age, the opera house is all you have ever really known.

You loved it here, the old theatre was your home. You knew every wing like the back of your hand, every creaky floorboard backstage, how the orchestra pit echoed when no one was in it, you knew the creepiest parts that no one like to venture into. You loved it all, it was your sanctuary.

There was something about the theatre that made you feel at peace, standing up on the stage in front of a huge audience, hearing their cheers and cries that made your heart swell. The heat of the spotlights, the magic you felt as you danced to beat of the live music, everything about it made you feel so alive.

The year was 1870 in Paris and you were currently playing the leading role in the current opera ‘Hannibal’

It was your debut as the leading lady and to say you were nervous was an understatement.

You walked quietly around the empty stalls of the theatre, taking in its musky smell, the beautiful architecture of the building and the huge crystal chandelier that hung high above your head. You ran your fingers across the old red velvet on the chair in front of you and sat yourself down in one of the seats near the pit.

The stage was empty but you could hear the hustle and bustle backstage of the cast and crew getting everything ready for opening night tonight, although there was still hours to go, there was still much more that needed to be set up.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously in your lap, taking a deep breath, you couldn’t help but speak aloud softly.

“Please….please let tonight go well”

You kept your eyes closed as you leant back in the chair, allowing a moment for yourself to process the evening that you knew lay ahead. You were certain you had been alone….until you heard his voice.

From high up above your head, in the gods, you heard his beautiful, ethereal voice humming down to you.

With a small gasp, you opened your eyes and looked up into darkness, and there amongst the ropes and pulleys of the backdrops and lights, you saw his silhouette and instantly a small smile appeared on your lips.

“There you are”

Your words were barely a whisper, your angel of music was right there with you. You should have known he wouldn’t be far away.

“Y/N what are you doing down there? You need to get ready for tonight!”

You tore your eyes away from your mysterious friend and saw your teacher/guardian Madame Giry standing in the wings on stage left.

“Yes Madame”

You casted up eyes up once more to the heavens to see that he was gone, like a ghost who was never there in the first place.

•••••

He was nicknamed the ‘Opera Ghost’

No one in the theatre ever questioned that box 5 was always left empty so no customer could use it, people ignored the eerie echoes of his angelic singing that seemed to come from no where all around the old building. No one had ever seen him fully, only catching glimpses of his shadow in the night.

No one, but you.

You were the only person to have had any interaction with the ghost. He had started visiting you when you were a child, you were 8 years old when your parents had met their tragic end and you were fated to the theatre. It wasn’t long after that you started to hear his voice in the night.

It started off with just singing, he comforted you when you were crying yourself to sleep, not having come to terms with the loss of your parents and the change that was about to happen within your life. You had felt so alone, you hardly knew anyone within the company, the only reason you came to be here was because Madame Giry was a close friend to your mother and she had agreed to take you in when they died.

But in those long, lonely first nights and weeks, his beautiful voice helped you drift off to sleep.

As the years went on, the beautiful voice became deeper and he started to talk to you quietly from within the walls, the mirror, you never knew exactly where he was but you always knew he was there.

In recent years, he had been singing your songs with you, helping you train your soprano skills, a patient teacher and a loyal companion is what you knew him to be.

Although you knew people had dubbed him the ‘opera ghost’ you felt that wasn’t a suitable title for this angelic creature so you called him your very own ‘angel of the night’ which was a nickname you often heard him whispering back to you.

Your angel wasn’t just a teacher to you anymore, he had become a friend. You told him all your hopes, dreams and your darkest fears. You’d talk to him until you heard the faint sound of the birds chirping and saw the first rays of the morning sun rising over the horizon through your window.

He would still sing you to sleep on the nights you struggled, when the past traumas returned in the forms of nightmares, he was always there to help take your fears away.

His voice was like nothing you had ever heard before. He sounded almost like a siren calling out to his awaiting victims and just like one, you felt the pull within your soul every time he called.

Tonight was the opening night, your big debut, but that wasn’t the only reason for your nerves. You knew he’d be there, watching from box 5, hidden within the shadows, but always there.

“Will he be impressed? Will I be everything he hoped for?”

These thoughts plagued your mind as you walked down the corridor, your heels clicking with every step, until you reached your dressing room/living quarters.

You wrapped your hand around the old doorknob and turned it so your door swung open with a creak.

In front of you was your dressing room, your bedroom was through the door at the back of the room, the walls were a beautiful shade of red, almost matching the seats in the theatre stalls out front. There were beautiful paintings in gold frames on the walls of your favourite artwork, a huge mirror that took up one wall, a rail of costumes and props lined another, you had your changing screen next to that and then you also had your beautiful make up vanity, surrounded by candles and all your make up and jewellery that was laid out for you on the counter.

But what caught your attention was the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, roses of the darkest red lay across your chair with a hand written piece of paper on top.

You walked over and picked up your present, inhaling their beautiful scent while you read the note.

‘To my beautiful angel’

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you knew it was him, he had left you a good luck token in preparation for tonight.

You felt your nerve’s ease, you knew you could do this, as you knew your angel would be watching over you.

•••••

The sounds of a standing ovation, loud cheers and clapping filled your ears as you took your final bow, flowers of all kinds being thrown onto the stage around your feet.

The show had gone without a hitch, your solo performance had been an absolute triumph that brought the audience to their feet. Throughout the production you had tried glancing up at box 5, hoping to see a glimpse of him but of course, nothing. Just the sight of the curtains moving gently when it was take to take the bows, almost like they had been caught in the non existent breeze.

Your vision was blocked completely as the main house curtain fell to the stage, muffling out the sounds of the audience still cheering from the other side.

You felt yourself being embraced by your fellow cast and crew members, all congratulating you on your performance.

“That what incredible!”

“Bravo!”

“Y/N you were sensational!”

You felt your cheeks go warm at all the compliments, the adrenaline still fully pumping through your body as you tried to catch your breath.

You thanked everyone and helped pick up the flowers littered across the stage to take back to your dressing room.

“He was there, I know he was! I wonder if he liked it?”

You felt butterflies start in your stomach at the thought, you would never want to disappoint him, you craved to know how he felt. You couldn’t wait to get back to your room.

You once again gave everyone your thanks and made your leave, half jogging down the corridors behind the theatre.

Once you entered your room, you put down all your flowers, taking note of even more bouquets that had been sent here from different admirers that were now spread around and all the lanterns and candles were burning beautifully, giving the room a beautiful golden glow.

You walked behind your changing screen and started to remove your heavy dress, a costume you were relieved to be out of, finally feeling like you could breathe normally once the corset was gone. You settled for a simple white lace dress that fell to floor. You removed all the pins from your hair and allowed it to cascade down your back. You were about to remove the make up on your face when you heard a knock at your door.

You called out for them to enter and you looked up into your mirror and saw Madame Giry standing there with another body behind her.

“Sorry to disturb you Y/N but there is someone who would like to meet you?”

You turned around and glanced behind and saw a handsome young man standing almost nervously on the spot with his top hat in his hands. He had short dark hair, was an average height and was wearing a formal dinner suit fit for the theatre.

You nodded and Madame Giry stepped aside so he could walk forward.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you”

You smiled politely, stood and offered your hand for him to grasp in his own as he bowed his head gently.

“My name is Henry Edwards. Do excuse my intuition miss, I was just so captivated by your performance that I wanted to give my congratulations in person. I’ve actually seen many performances here at this theatre but tonight was by far the best I have ever seen”

You smiled wider at his words, his face definitely looking more familiar now that he’s mentioned he’d been here before. You’d often seen him admiring your dancing in previous productions.

“Thank you Mr Edwards, you are too kind”

“If I was to be so bold Miss Y/N, I would love to be able to discuss your performance further, perhaps over tea or a stroll around the park?”

You were taken back by his proposal, not used to men being so forward with you or even desiring you at all really.

“Oh erm…yes, I…I think that would be a lovely idea”

You panicked, you knew you weren’t particularly interested in the man in front of you but what harm was there to be courted for an afternoon.

Henry looked very pleased as he fumbled over a thank you, his next words were lost on you as you suddenly felt a presence within the room, the presence of someone who wasn’t happy at all.

You turned your head to the big mirror behind you and watched as a few of the near by candles flickered angrily before going out completely, leaving nothing but whips of smoke behind.

“Mine”

The word was whispered so low and dragged out that it almost sounded like the wind, but you knew better, the realisation sending chills down your spine.

You turned back and caught Madame Giry’s gaze, it was as shocked as your own, she knew.

“Well Mr Edwards, I’m sorry but that will be all for tonight, Miss Y/L/N is extremely tired and needs to rest her voice. Come back in a couple days to arrange this meeting?”

Madame had already started pulling gently on his arm and gesturing for him to leave, he looked baffled at first but soon composed himself.

“Oh erm…yes, yes, of course. Goodnight Miss Y/L/N and I’ll pop by in a few days?”

You nodded with a forced smile as you watched as he slipped his top hat back upon his head and walked out of the room, Madame Giry giving you one last look before shutting the door behind her, the sound echoing through the empty room.

But you knew you were far from alone.

You turned around to face the mirror, staring at your own reflection, the sound of his quiet humming started once more and you felt pulled towards the mirror.

Almost like you were in a trance, you stepped forward, your eyes glued to your own reflection until you noticed another pair of eyes staring back at you from over your shoulder.

You should have been afraid, you should have called out for help, but you didn’t.

Dark almond eyes gazed back into your own, his face becoming more clearer the closer you got. But it wasn’t his whole face you saw. It was covered by half of a white mask, almost like he was trying to hide his true identity.

You stood frozen in place as your angel came fully into view, it was like he’d appeared from the mirror itself, like he truly was a mystical creature from another world.

His song was hypnotising, the melody causing your head to feel so light and airy, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looked up in your dream like state to see him standing in front of you.

You reached your hand out without a thought and was met with a hard, firm chest, your angel was truly here.

Taking in his appearance, he was even more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. He was tall, extremely tall and towered over your small frame and was just as broad in his chest and back. You could see he had shiny, brown hair that was falling down to his neck, it looked so soft that you felt the urge to run your fingers through it.

Your angel was wearing a black suit with a long black cloak over the top and of course the half mask, you had never wanted to remove something so much in your life, his face was absolutely perfect, why would he hide? His eyes appeared darker now he was in front of you, he had the most intense stare that you’d ever seen, it was like he could see into your very soul and read your every thought.

The last thing you took note of was his tattoos that were peaking out over his collar and on his right hand, his other being covered with a black leather glove. It was unusual to see a man around these parts that had tattoos, you’d never seen any before.

He moved around your body slowly, his hands running up through the air next to your arms, not touching but still your skin felt like it had been set alight. As his hands came up near your face, he gestured for you to look ahead.

“Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside. I am your angel of music”

You inhaled deeply as you took in the sight of him standing directly behind you, his whole presence was consuming you.

His face suddenly looked angry as he whispered his next words.

“Insolent boy. Does your young suitor really think that he can take what’s mine?”

You turned to face him, the thought of your angel being angry with you was too much to bare.

“Angel my soul is weak, forgive me! Yours is the only one that calls me”

He stood staring down into your eyes, like he was trying to find a lie but he would find none. You knew your heart belonged to him, it always had.

“Hide no longer from me”

Your words were hardly audible but you knew he’d heard. No words were given in return, all you could hear the was sounds of his beautiful song again as it’s filled your mind. He walked back around your body and backed himself up towards the mirror, that was when he held out his hand to you, you took it without hesitation.

Your head light as a feather, you followed him willingly, you hardly paid attention to where you were going or how you got there, all that mattered was that you were with him. His siren song never once stopping as you made your way down the dimly lit corridors heading down to the catacombs beneath the city.

The walls were lined with candles, all lit up, the air was damp and cold against your skin.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Your beautiful angel in front of you, he could have been leading you to the pits of hell and you wouldn’t have cared. He kept looking back at you every so often, as if to make sure you hadn’t vanished.

Coming up to the waters edge, you noticed a small boat ready, he stepped into it first and one again extended his hand out, you took it and stepped into the boat after him.

The foggy feeling never left, you felt so free, so light, like nothing could touch you ever again. It was almost like you’d become a spirit of another realm, not of this earth but not quite moved onto the next.

You continued to listen to his voice, just as he always had done, he soothed away any of your fears. You took note of all the burning candles, the way the water lapped up the sides and casted a beautiful rippling reflection up on the walls.

As you rowed further into the catacombs, you saw your destination. This could only be his home.

It was breathtaking, even more candles lit the area and it was living space in the middle of the caves. Artwork, statues and musical instruments of all kinds surrounded you. And roses, dark red roses everywhere.

You closed your eyes as you felt the inner peace of contentment washed over you, you couldn’t describe it any other way, it was like you were in a dream.

The sound of his voice gently stopped as he got out of the boat and you stood to follow, allowing him to place his hands on your waist and lift you easily onto the floor.

You started to turn your head around to take in your surroundings but you felt his fingers grasp your chin gently but firm and pulled your face back to meet his.

You tilted your head and glanced down at his lips, wondering if he would lean down into you.

Gazing up into his face, you really took in his features, he was absolutely perfect. Your eyes wandered to the mask and your hand reached up slowly to push it off of him before you even truly thought of your actions.

Your hand was stopped by his gripping onto your wrist sharply and tightly, his eyes first the first time showing any sort of vulnerability as he shook his head slightly.

“Why do you hide from me angel?”

He brought your hand back down gently and took a deep breath.

“Because I would repulse you, you’d run from me”

You brought your free hand up and held onto his cheek, the pads of your fingers gently caressing his smooth skin.

“I could never, you’re my guide, my guardian…my friend”

His eyes soften at your words, you watched the candles fire reflecting and dancing deep within his irises as you waited for his response.

Your angel stood slightly straighter, he let go of your hand and he reached up until the base of the mask was between his fingertips. He hesitated for a moment before he ducked his head down and slid the mask off, his hair falling back into place as it was removed.

When he looked back up, the sight that greeted you was a shock. The whole right side of his face and into his scalp was burnt and had deep scaring. You would have believed it to be painful but it was clear to see that these were not fresh wounds.

You gasped quietly but you didn’t recoil. Instead you raised your hand and held the right side of his neck gently and leaned up and kissed his jagged skin softly, not missing the low moan it pulled from his throat as you did.

“Those that have seen your face draw back in fear. I do not”

“I do not frighten you little one?”

You shook your head and continued to gently stroke his scars.

“Never. Please tell me angel, do you have a name?”

“Noah”

His name left your lips in a whisper, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him. It was a beautiful name that was well suited to the man before you.

His hand came up to brush your hair from your face, you couldn’t help but softy sing his own song back to him, not missing how his eyes darken.

“Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams”

Your eyes fell shut, the next feeling was his lips upon yours, gently moving with you.

It was electric, both of his hands came up to cradle your neck, holding close as he pressed his body into yours.

Pulling away, his hands slowly wandered down your body, your breathing was starting to quicken within your chest.

“Trust me?”

You nodded without hesitation, your eyes never leaving his. Noah then picked you up bridal style and carried you over to a huge king size bed that was covered in red sheets and was surrounded by a black lace canopy.

He set you down onto your feet and moved behind you to start undoing the ties on the back of your dress, letting his fingers trace the skin beneath as he did.

“Where does your soul long to be?”

You turned to face him, your dress loose over your shoulders.

“With you, I belong to you, I have always belonged to you”

He lowered his head down to you and once again captured your lips between his own, this time more passionate than before. Noah slipped his hands into the fabric at the top of your dress and continued to slide it off your shoulders as he moved his head down to start ghosting kisses along your collar bone.

You moved your hands into his hair and finally felt how soft it really was, it was like silk moving between your fingers.

You felt your dress starting to fall off of you, fully aware that your top half was completely bare underneath. You felt the material pool around your feet and his hands settled onto your hips as he continued to kiss and gently bite your skin, moving further down.

Your stomach was starting to tighten, the feeling that was washing over you was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he started to moved his head lower and gently sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, feeling his warm tongue flicking over the harden bud while his hand came up to caress the other, rolling that nipple between his fingers.

You tried to hold back the noises that your body wanted to make, feeling self conscious of how you must have sounded, something Noah seemed to pick up on easily.

“Savour each sensation my little angel, let me hear you, let your darker side give in to me”

You watched as Noah stood tall and removed the cloak from his shoulders and his jacket and carelessly let them fall to the ground, he then moved you back until your legs hit the bed and he guided you down onto the plush mattress and your body sank into the pillows, his body following yours swiftly after.

You felt his hands running up your bare legs up to your underwear, toying with the waistband teasingly before pulling them off slowly, he was clearly savouring every noise or squirm your body was making under his touch.

“You’re mine my little angel, you belong to me”

You nodded, unable to form any words due to the feeling of him ghosting his lips across your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart slowly.

“Say it”

“I’ve always been yours Noah”

The sound of his name felt so right, he had always been there and you had always been his.

Noah used his hands to push your legs further apart, opening you up for him. A low groan came from deep within his chest as he leant down and licked one slow, long strip up your centre, the feeling sending shock waves through your body and your back to arch off the mattress.

You felt his fingers move to your outer lips to part them gently so he could flick his tongue inside, loving tasting you for the first time.

The sensations that were flooding your body was nothing short of pure ecstasy, Noah continued to eat you out slowly and let his thumb move upward so he could start rubbing firm circles against your clit.

“Oh my….Noah, please!”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, your body felt alive, your stomach was twisting beautifully and your hands found themselves running through his hair, pushing him closer into your centre.

The pleasure that you felt was overwhelming, your thighs were starting to shake, tears were forming in the corners of your eyes as you couldn’t stop the cries that left your mouth.

Noah didn’t stop, he moved his fingers faster and continued to devour you until your legs squeezed around his head and the breath was pulled from your lungs as your orgasm washed over you and you felt like you were floating and falling all at the same time.

Once you started to come back down, you saw that Noah had stripped himself of the rest of his clothes and was settling himself down in between your legs. The sight of how many tattoos he truly had was astonishing.

“I’ve waited so long to feel you around me my little dove”

Noah reached down and gripped himself and ran his head along your folds, your wetness gathering onto him, before he slowly pushed his hips forward, the feeling of him stretching you open was almost sinful.

Your head fell back into the pillows and his head fell into your neck as he growled from the feeling of you. Your hands came and found themselves wrapped around his arms as you adjusted to his size.

“You’re perfect…it’s like you were made for me”

Your cheeks became warm at his words, his praise making your core throb with need.

Noah started moving his hips against yours, it was a torturously slow and deep pace that caused you to feel every inch of him against your walls, your body instantly reacting to his movements.

“You feel incredible around me angel, fuck…you’re so fucking perfect. My perfect little angel”

You moaned loudly, his words mixed with his deep thrusts was intoxicating, your heart was swimming with so many emotions, you never wanted this moment to end.

You reached your hand up and placed it onto his scared skin, wanting to show him that he was beautiful in your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he started to thrust harder, a layer of sweat had now coated both of your bodies and the room echoed with the sounds of your cries and skin slapping onto skin.

“Noah…I..I feel…”

You couldn’t finish your words, you didn’t need to, Noah knew you were near your end. His hips moved faster, the motion pressing your body into the mattress as your nails dug into the skin on his back as your body wound itself up tighter.

“Cum for me, I want to feel you”

Noah’s own hips started to falter as your body was suddenly convulsing underneath his and you screamed out his name, you squeezed your eyes shut as you rode out the waves of your high, feeling Noah’s release deep inside of you as he groaned loudly into your shoulder.

You felt Noah kiss your skin softly as he slipped himself out, the loss leaving you feeling so empty. He brought you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly as if he was frightened you’d leave.

“Stay with me?”

You looked up with a smile and kissed his lips.

“Forever”

Noah smiled back and he pulled the covers over your naked bodies and he started to hum his song once again, the song that you’d known since you were young.

It was beautiful, it was haunting but most of all, it was comforting. You snuggled into his side and allowed your angel of music to sing you into a beautiful, deep sleep.

[mambodork]

If you dont mind me asking, For the hoa buttercups au, how did they find out that they were not 'normal'/they were possessing bodies?

(Not really sure how to word this, but thank you for this silly au, and tysm if you answer my question!

Hope you have a nice day/night!

I think at the beginning, Grian would actually make an effort to make eyes instead of having them just be hollow sockets... not necessarily that he's trying to hide that he's a watcher, he just didn't want to freak out the others.

When he joined Hermitcraft S6, he did the entire "I'm gonna take your mustache away" bit with Mumbo. He actually did end up taking his mustache away, only to reveal that the mustache IS Mumbo Jumbo (my mental image of this is just him holding on to the mustache going all "YES. I DID IT! I TOOK HIS MUSTACHE!" Only for the mustache to suddenly go "Well this is incredibly rude" and Grian immediately flings him to the other side of the room out of surprise).

As for Scar, Grian had always known that he refers to himself and Cub as vexes, but he always assumed that he said it as like a bit, or maybe that he has a vex lineage or is a hybrid of some kind. My headcanon rn on how G found out is that one day, Grian went and spooked Scar so hard from a prank or something that he went through an out-of-body experience (literally) and just, seperated the vex out of the body. Scar is just "Oh gosh, that scared the life out of me (haha get it)" and Grian is just looking at him like. "Wait you're an actual vex." Meanwhile Scar is looking at him all confused saying "??? You didn't know???"

And how Scar & Mumbo found out abt Grian... I like to think that Grian eventually kinda forgot that the others dont know and just think whatever he's doing is normal. Im thinking Scar goes to complain to Grian one day, and the convo would go something along the lines of:

"Im so hungry but i dont have a body to eat."

"Oh. You can just eat one of my bodies, i think this one's gonna expire soon anyways."

"What."

"What?"

Eventually, Grian clocked in on the fact that "Oh yeah. Im actually not normal i forgot about that." And just kinda ditched the entire appearing human look and got rid of the eyes so he could have easy access to get in and out of the body if he wanted to.

Yeah.. my headcanon is that they never really meant to hide it or anything. There has just been a lot of not knowing and miscommunication going on 😭 this might change in the future though, idk !!

[vidavalor]

<<I tend to think he just saw it all as more space for his books! 😂>>

Oh, babe, he definitely saw it as that, too. 😂 I'm in total agreement there! There are so many books in this shop that the weird, not-often-used rooms in S2 that we saw still just had them piled up everywhere. When I say they have a bedroom up there, I mean that there's a room of books which have been parted enough for there to also a bed.

There was, once, likely even a bookshelf running horizontally on the wall above the bed but Aziraphale got rid of that after the time they rocked the bed into the wall hard enough that Crowley got a mid-coitus concussion from a falling dictionary. Kidding. (Maybe? lol).

I also assume it's the location of Aziraphale's alluded to, ahem, private collections. It probably has a closet which has become home to a variety of random bits and bobs of Crowley's wardrobe going back decades, if the tie & shoes he gave Gabriel are any indication, and the things he doesn't keep at his flat. It's cozy, awash in books, and otherwise pretty normal. We can't see it yet, though, because they would like us to still be theorizing regarding its existence, as you wisely said.

<<It's probably been left so ambiguous because it wasn't important to the show at the time, and they figured it would give us something more to analyze/speculate on and write fanfic about!>>

Exactly. I'm dead serious. Like... we're going to see more of the bookshop but we are in what will be the last bit of the series and that was always the way it was going to go. Doesn't matter if it's a full season or a movie-- it's how they've been doing this since the start. What we see when is by design-- flashbacks, parts of the bookshop, all of it. It's partially an audience engagement tactic. It was in the book, too, but it's even more so in the tv series because that medium is especially great for a story like this.

I think that by telling the story out of chronological order and by being a little coy about what they show, the audience is engaging with its themes more as a result of also trying to solve the puzzle. It makes it more fun for the audience and it's also a more engaging way to tell the story for the people doing so because something we're seeing and when we're seeing it becomes significant to seeing the story.

Everyone can tell it's going to have a good ending to a point that they just basically told us what that ending is lol and they can because that's not at all what's driving interest in the story. No one is like what will the ending be?!; they're all what happened in 1941?! The juice of the story is in the flashbacks.

So, giving the audience that kiss in The Final 15 and leaving them knowing that Crowley & Aziraphale are going to be fine in the final season and what's in the flashbacks in The Finale? What's the twist to upend how we see what we're watching? It has to be that this isn't new because that would single-handedly rewrite all the flashbacks for some people.

What's going to make us see the scenes we've already seen differently once we get to the end of The Finale? If The Vavoom was their first kiss and was back in ancient times, is what.

I really, really think that they're about to drop a single scene that is going to make basically every single fanfic in this fandom need an AU-canon divergence tag and it's going to be amazing. Showing in 2.06 literally the worst kiss they'll have had and will ever have and writing the scene in such a way that half the audience is going to think this is new... but all after planting the seeds earlier in the season via The Vavoom for the twist in S3 when it's shown that it's very much not new? Perfect. 😉

It's not just the kiss-- the whole elevator cliffhanger to me was perfect. Because here we are, ages after the season aired, still chatting about wtf is actually going on in this show lol. There is no actual consensus about what we've been watching and that actually results in us all exploring it more deeply while we attempt to figure it out. It's a thousand times more fun.

Speaking of the bookshop, theories on what could be upstairs?

ooooo the BIG QUESTION.

so we can see a bit of the second floor in all these pics:

basically all we know for sure is there are A LOT MORE BOOKS, both stacked around the railing and on the circle of shelves. neil has decided not to comment on what else might be there (YET 👀) but he’s confirmed that much.

apart from that, we can see from the outside that there are six windows on the second floor:

i’m going to assume they’re part of the shop because they’re Very On Fire when the rest of the shop is on fire. SO. taking all that into account, you end up with something like this:

where the thin grey circle is the railing and the brown one is the bookshelves (as you can see in the first pic, it doesn’t circle all the way around!)

the rest is a complete mystery. i mean i’m sure the actual set was empty because they didn’t need to fill it, but in theory there’s room for some interesting stuff! with the first floor for scale i can imagine a whole flat built around that circle of shelves — a bed aziraphale never sleeps in, comfy chairs, every other angel knick-knack he’s encountered in his life. in my personal headcanon it’s all books and hoarded items covered in dust, which he leaves for authenticity.

thank you for asking!! i’d love to hear other people’s thoughts if they want to share :)

[harzilla]

im still thinking of the lost sibling AU. Let's make it for the halloween event guys. Spoilers below the cut for the most recent JP event with Skully.

Rollo has already been talked about for Glomas.

Now for playful land I was thinking Fellow/Ernesto at first.... But I actually think I like the idea of Yuu in that AU being Gidel/Gino's twin. Just cute little kid who becomes psudo adopted by the older NRC boys. Yuu who's actually pretty bright and loves to learn. I even like the idea that if Gidel is twisted from Gideon, then Yuu is twisted from Figaro. The two look different enough that people don't peg them as siblings right away(Yuu has black hair and yellow eyes like Figaro. Also a nod to the fact a litter of kittens can have multiple fathers and coat patterns)

once it's figured out. Of course Fellow and Gidel have to come to NRC and Ramshackle! What kind of big brother would Fellow be if he didn't keep an eye out on his new sibling? Why so shocked? If he's Gidel's big bro he must be Yuu's big bro right? The NRC boys call bull on that. If anybody is Yuu's big bro it's them.

And Gidel and Yuu are just happy to have somebody their own age and they're siblings too! Yuu happily speaks up for Gidel and is absolutely "He asked for no pickles" with Gidel nodding his head along. Yuu actually even tries to help Fellow and Gidel with learning to read, write, math... Etc....

Nightmare before Christmas event. Skully's twin. Now Skully's human and he died centuries ago before the start. Well, what if Yuu died and reincarnated? Separated all those centuries ago. What if the two actually got to grow up together. Yuu being one of the few people who genuinely understood Skully. Even if he didn't have friends at NRC, his twin Yuu was his biggest support.

and then Yuu passed away while they were teens when both were attending NRC. Maybe Yuu died before Skully did and his soul lingered around ramshackle because he wants one chance to see his twin again. A reincarnated Yuu arriving and Skully not having enough energy to show himself but he follows Yuu around because he just feels a connection with them so he always worries about them. Oh how he wished he could have given those other ghosts a thrashing when they kicked Yuu out of Ramshackle during the ghost marriage event!

Then they all get sucked into the book, including ghost Skully. Skully, who hasn't been solid for centuries can finally touch people again. Skully who can't help but cradle Yuu gently while they're asleep. He's always wanted to be able to talk to them. When Yuu awakens they're not really bothered by Skully. In fact, he feels kind of familiar but they can't place from where.

Afterwards once everybody is free from the book, the truth of Skully is revealed and Yuu asks for the portrait. Saying how they think it should be in Ramshackle. Wasn't that Skully's dorm after all?(I say yes in this AU)

Skully's spirit who lingers, back to watching over Yuu but slowly growing stronger and hopefully can even become corporeal enough to interact directly. If not, He'll just have to talk to them again once Halloween comes around again. They have centuries of catching to do.

.

[keikikait]

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

based on a request by @milesdrift

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 10.5k

summary: you reconnect with an old friend while seeking quiet refuge from the midsummers party

warnings: longtime friends to lovers, kook!reader & kook!rafe, emotional rafe comes out for like 2 seconds, drunk rafe, light-medium angst, soft rafe, fluff?, talk of anxiety, topper is a bitch, blackmail is mentioned but it's not actually done, not proofread

a note: ik its long i don't wanna talk about it

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Although you and Rafe had grown up together, you weren’t the best of friends anymore.

Your father and Rafe’s father, Ward, were business partners. Your father handled the financial side of everything, while Ward was the face of it all. You had spent countless dinners at his house, spent more summer nights than you can remember in his backyard, helping your dad grill. You were a fellow Kook, and while your house wasn’t as extravagant as Tannyhill, you still grew up in Figure 8 with the rest of them. 

You and Rafe were close at one point, spending some of your elementary years closer than ever before. You spent every waking second together, but everything changed when you both went to middle school; he started getting angrier, louder, and soon just completely ditched you for his new friends Topper and Kelce. You spent so much time watching him from the sidelines, and you spent a few years crushing on him, admiring him from afar and just wondering what it would be like to be his. It wasn’t until you went to Kildare Academy alongside him, Topper, and Kelce, that you realised he would never feel the same way. After all, you weren’t exactly a close friend of his anymore.

At least, you thought you weren’t. It wasn’t long after hearing of Ward’s death that Rafe was on your doorstep, drunk out of his mind and soaked to the bone from the rain. It was late, almost 11 PM, and you had let him in, giving him a towel and some of your older brother’s old clothes to borrow for the night. He wouldn’t mind anyway, he was engaged and living in Raleigh with his fiancée, doing something in IT and tech. Rafe eagerly accepted the clothes, although you had to help him change, trying your hardest to keep your eyes and hands from wandering while you helped him out of his old wet clothes.

The dryer hums from down the hall as it runs, tossing his clothes around. Rafe lies on your bed, his legs hanging off the end, his feet flat on the ground. You sit next to him, water bottle in hand, watching him. He has his arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the soft light of your bedside table lamp.

You swallow, moving a little closer to him. “You okay?”

“Mm.” He grunts in response, still keeping his eyes covered. He didn’t smell the best, the smell of weed and hard liquor practically wafted off of his soaked form. The alcohol, though, seemed to be the main thing that took its toll on him. He was a mess of a man as it was, but when he drowned himself in alcohol like this, you weren’t even sure that it was Rafe in the room with you anymore.

“I heard what happened, I um…” You hesitate, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, Rafe.”

“Don’t,” He says, raising his arm from his face just enough to glare at you through the crack in his arm. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you,” You say. “I really am sorry, Rafe.”

“Yeah, you seem real sorry,” He huffs, dropping his arm back in place, blocking out the light again. “Sitting there, staring at me with your big doe eyes.”

Your face gets warm, and you bite back a smile. “I let you in, didn’t I? I could’ve kicked you to the curb. But I didn’t.”

“Mm, you’re such a saint, you know that?” He grumbles, although this time he did let out a bit of a chuckle. He drops his hand down onto his chest, resting it just above his heart as he tilts his head towards you.

You lay down next to him, your shoulders touching, your legs dangling next to his. Your voice is soft when you speak, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He turns his head towards you, his body following suit, rolling to his side, so his whole body faced you now. He stays quiet for a moment, just looking at you, before shaking his head and letting out a sigh. “What is there to talk about?” He grumbles again. “He got shot and fell off that stupid fucking cliff. Now there’s a big, father-shaped hole in my life now. End of story.”

“Did he ever even fill that hole?” You ask quietly. You immediately regret your words, but it seems like Rafe doesn’t even care.

“I… no. No, not really,” He admits, swallowing around a knot in his throat. “But it’s a hole I was counting on… one day filling. And now there’s no chance for that.” He rolls onto his back again and covers his face with his hands. After a few seconds, you hear his breathing get heavier as his shoulders shake up and down.

He’s crying.

You roll over to face him, wrapping one arm across his chest and over his shoulder. “No, hey come on, it’s okay.”

Rafe doesn’t fight your hold, and he shifts onto his side in front of you, facing you as you pull him into your embrace. He buries his face into your shoulder, his hands grabbing at your sides, holding onto you tightly as he begins to sob.

You rub his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head. “It’s okay, Rafe. It’ll be okay.”

His whole body shakes against yours as he cries, his fingers grabbing and clinging tightly onto your sides, like you were the only thing keeping him together. Rafe’s nose presses into the crook of your neck, his warm, shaky breaths ghosting against your skin as he cries against your shoulder. His voice is so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “I want my dad.”

Your heart shatters, and you pull him closer, fighting back tears of your own. “I know, Rafe. I know. I’m sorry.”

His arms wrap around your back, enveloping you in his arms, and his legs hook around one of yours, pulling you in closer to him, as if he’s hoping that if he holds you tightly enough he would be able to hold himself together. For a few long moments, he falls silent, the only sound being the faintest hitch in his breathing every couple of moments. Eventually, Rafe speaks again, his voice muffled against your neck. “I really messed up.”

“No, you didn’t.” You say, tightening your grip on him. 

“Yes, I did,” He whispers, nuzzling himself further against you. You can feel one of his hands trail up your back, his fingers tangling into your hair. It almost seems like he’s trying to melt himself into you. “Everything I’ve ever done… everything I’ve ever said… I did so many things just to try and-and make him proud of me. Everything I did was never enough to make him see me the way I wanted him to. But I still kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing. For what? For nothing. For absolutely nothing,” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I wanna know it’s not my fault. I didn’t mean it.”

Your eyes well with tears, and you quickly wipe them away. “It’s not your fault, Rafe. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t push him. It’s not your fault.”

His fingers tighten in your hair as his lips drag against your neck, leaving a damp trail across your skin. “I could’ve been a better-a better son,” He whispers against your neck. “I-I could’ve tried harder, I could’ve been better. I-” He chokes back another wave of tears, his whole body trembling in your grip. “He was never proud of me.”

“You don’t know that,” You whisper. “He always talked to my dad about you. My dad said you were all Ward talked about. Not Sarah or Wheezie. You.”

“That doesn’t mean he was proud of me.” Rafe mumbles. His hand that has been gripping your side released its hold on your shirt, his fingertips trailing up your side as he shifts ever so slightly in front of you. His fingers brush against the edge of your shirt, slipping under the baggy fabric and settling against your bare skin. His palm presses flat against your side, holding you, fingers spreading out over your skin.

“You don’t know that he wasn’t.” You say.

He slowly lifts his face from your neck, his fingers gliding along the curve of your side as he pulls away. Rafe swallows hard, his eyes fixed on you. He looks like a mess; his eyes red and puffy from crying, his face red and patchy from wiping his tears away. His eyes flicker down to your throat, and he pauses for a moment, his lips slightly parted as he studies your skin. When he finally speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “I feel sick.”

“Do you need to vomit?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” He croaks, his hand still lingering against your side, his fingers gently brushing back and forth across your skin. Something in his eyes seems a bit… off. Normally, he was loud, and cocky, a bit obnoxious at times, but still somehow charming. Right now, though, he seemed… vulnerable. Broken down. He was exposed in ways that you didn’t even know he could be. You hadn’t ever realised how blue his eyes were before now.

“Come on, honey,” The nickname slips out without much thought as you help him sit up. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t have it in him to protest your help, and he lets you ease him up and guide him to his feet. He kept one hand around your torso, his other wrapping around your shoulder as he lets you guide him towards your bathroom, practically stumbling behind you as he tried to walk. His grip on you stayed steady, fingers pressing into your side and digging into your skin.

You push open the door to the en-suite bathroom, helping Rafe kneel down by the toilet. “If you need to vomit, just do it. Don’t hold it in, okay?”

He swallows, still stumbling slightly as he knelt there in front of the toilet. “Okay.” He croaks. A few moments pass, and then suddenly Rafe’s whole body tenses up, and he lurches forward at the waist, leaning over the toilet. He gags, the first few being dry gags and coughs, before, after another heave, Rafe lets loose the rest of his stomach contents into the toilet, throwing up everything in his stomach.

You look away, rubbing his back. “There you go. Better out than in.”

He stays hunched over the toilet bowl for several long minutes, coughing and dry heaving. It finally passed, but he still knelt there, heaving and gagging. “I-“ He started hoarsely, a trail of spit dripping out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still red and puffy. His shoulders shook once, and you could’ve sworn it was another heave, but when he finally spoke again you nearly choked at the sound of how wrecked his voice was. “I need a drink…”

You let out a small chuckle, grabbing some toilet paper and wiping his mouth. “You’re drinking water only.”

He lets you wipe his mouth, and he watches you through tired, bleary eyes. “I-“ He tries to protest, before his face turns a little green again. He grumbles, then sighs, mumbling against your touch. “No booze?”

“No booze.” You say.

“Okay, okay, fine.” He mumbles, sighing again as his shoulders drop in defeat. “No booze, then. Just… I need something. I need to- I need to-” He pauses halfway through his sentence, swallowing hard as he suddenly leans forward at the waist again, hovering over the toilet. He gags again, a thin trail of spit connecting his lip to the rim of the bowl, before he leans back again, gasping and panting.

You look away, quickly rushing back to your bed to grab the water bottle. You head back into the bathroom, rubbing his back as he pukes again. “There we go.”

He heaves and coughs for several more moments before finally collapsing back against your touch, sagging into your hand on his back. His head falls forward, his face against his shoulder, forehead pressed against his arm as it rests against his knee. He looks and sounds like a wreck, his whole body trembling in front of you. He’s a mess. A complete, utter, heartbreaking mess. 

His voice comes up, hoarse and ragged. “You… you called me honey.”

“I did.” You say, wiping his mouth again. You uncap the water and pour some into his mouth. 

He doesn’t argue, his mouth parting readily when you hold the bottle to his lips. He closes his eyes as a few mouthfuls of cool water washes away the taste of vomit, and a soft groan escapes his throat when you pull the water away. When his eyes finally open again, his gaze shifts back to you, and that same look is still in his eyes. The same lost, brokenness that made your chest ache for him.

You hand him the bottle. “Do you wanna stay here tonight?”

Rafe stares down at the bottle, his hand coming up to wrap shakily around it. His fingers linger against yours a moment longer than needed, touching your fingertips for a brief second before withdrawing, his fingers sliding down the cold plastic of the water bottle. After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice hoarse and raw from the vomiting. “… Yes. Please.” He whispers.

“Come on,” You say softly, helping him to his feet. “There’s a guest room down the hall.”

He lets you pull him to his feet, stumbling to his feet without much resistance. He was clearly exhausted and worn out from vomiting, but even so, when you tried to remove your hold from him, he protested. His fingers wrapped around your wrists loosely, his gaze fixed on you, as if he was practically begging you not to let him go. “No,” He whines. “I… I need to be with you. I can’t be alone right now.”

“Okay,” You say softly, slipping your hands into his. “You can stay with me.”

He lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as your fingers slide into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, and his thumb brushes against the back of your hand. Although he seemed like he wanted to say something to you - his lips parted, and his gaze dropped to watch your fingers, he seems to change his mind at the last second, and simply squeezes on your hand. After a beat, he gives your hand a tug, gently pulling you towards your bed.

You climb in next to him, already in your pyjamas from earlier in the night. You give him an extra pillow, letting him get comfortable. He lets out a sigh, pulling his knees up towards his chest a bit as he turns his head to face you. One arm slips between the pillow and his head, propping it up slightly, while the other finds its way to your side, resting there on the other side of your body. “Rafe?” You ask, your voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you come here?” You ask. “I'm not, like, upset, but... we aren't very close anymore, you know?”

To answer that question, Rafe reaches his hand that’s on your side up a bit, his fingers trailing up your shirt and settling on your stomach, his palm laying flat against the soft skin of your stomach. His fingers trace soft lines back and forth against your abdomen absently, like he was trying to soothe himself just by touching you. “Because I need someone right now,” He replies after a long moment of silence. “And… you’re the only one that I’ve never been scared to tell I was hurting. Top and Kel… they wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t comfort me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” You say softly. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

“Thanks for letting me in.” He mumbles in response, his fingers still tracing lines over your stomach. It was something that he must’ve unconsciously started to do once he laid his hand against you, but it still sent shivers down your spine when you felt his gentle touch on your skin. 

You pull him into a hug, your voice still soft. “Get some sleep, Rafe.”

Rafe doesn’t protest this time as you tug him into a hug. His arm tightens around your back, and he squeezes a bit in your embrace, drawing himself in a bit closer. He lets out a soft sigh, his face pressing into your neck, and his body finally slumps against you. “Goodnight.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Goodnight.” You whisper.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

You don’t remember the last time you journaled. 

The morning after, Rafe left in a rush, leaving only a pile of your brother’s clothes in his wake. You spent a little too long staring at the ceiling, the feelings you felt for him so long ago coming back to rear its ugly head. You flipped over, pulling the drawer open and digging around in your bedside table, pulling out the leather-bound journal and a ballpoint pen.

You let your stream of consciousness out, filling out pages and pages about your night with Rafe and your conflicted feelings. You don’t date the entry, quickly shoving it back into your bedside table for another day. You spend the rest of your day stuck in limbo, wondering, thinking about your next interaction with Rafe. What would he say? Would he even acknowledge you? Did Topper and Kelce know about your night together?

You didn’t want this to control you as it used to; spending hours awake at night, wanting and praying that Rafe would see you in the same way you saw him. Praying that Rafe liked you, not whatever Kook girl caught his eye that night. You didn’t want to pine for him anymore, wandering behind him through the desert, hoping he’ll lead you to an oasis. You always wanted him when you were finally fine. You kept journaling, though, filling pages upon pages with your thoughts, whether Rafe was even in them or not. You decided to push him aside, to only speak to him if he spoke to you first. Out of sight, out of mind. And it worked. You didn’t think about him for weeks, even when you would see him at the corner store or at the gas station. He didn’t approach you, so you didn’t approach him.

You had managed to move on again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It was taunting you on your calendar. The Midsummers Party.

You hated it every year. It was one of the town events that gave you the most anxiety. You hated the crowds, the loud music, and the aura that surrounded you; your fellow Kooks thinking that they were better than the people on the south side of Kildare just because their mommy and daddy had more money. You were supposed to hate the Pogues, it was supposed to be ingrained in your DNA, but you didn’t. Why would you just hate someone purely because they didn’t have as much money as you? You were grateful for your life, grateful for the life that your father and mother built for you and your brother. You didn’t want to take it for granted like some of your fellow Kooks did.

Your dress was simple; a flowy, pink, low cut linen midi dress with thin straps, a $35 steal you got from a thrift store on the mainland. You hunted through your closet for your old sandals, putting them on before checking your outfit in the mirror again. You looked cute, which was the most important part. You would spend the entire time sitting in the corner alone anyway, trying to get yourself to relax. You grab your bag and your keys off of your bed, and you’re a few steps out the door when you get a nagging feeling. You sigh, looking back into your bedroom, fingers tapping on the door frame as you start to contemplate.

The journal and the pen join the belongings in your bag before you leave, shutting and locking the door behind you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

The Island Club is already lively when you arrive, giving your key to one of the valets. You slip him a large tip before heading inside the country club. The country club is abuzz as you take a step inside, music thumping throughout the house as you pass through the massive front room and make your way towards the outdoor seating. Pogues and Kooks alike mill about, chatting amongst themselves and laughing heartily as they make their way indoors and out. The whole club smells like food, and smoke wafts through the air from the various barbecues that are going on throughout the outdoor patio area.

You were already overwhelmed. The chatter is nearly deafening in your ears, the various sounds of people talking and music blaring from speakers filling your head. You feel like you can’t breathe. You don’t want to be here, stuck in this country club full of people. Everyone here is loud and drunk and happy. 

And you’re drowning in the sea of it all.

Across the country club, leaning against the bar, is Rafe. Midsummers was always fun for him. Loud music, endless drinks and even more pretty Kooks, all there to celebrate one of the most exclusive events on the island. As the sun set, the dance floor was filled with couples, dancing against one another and getting drunk on endless bottles of rum. He stood around a group of his friends, drinking and talking with a smile on his face. His gaze was always drifting out to the sea of Kooks and Pogues before him, but it lingered every so often when a pretty girl passed.

The bar was packed with people, all clamouring and fighting to try and get a drink before the entire bar was empty and the Pogues would end up stuck drinking piss beer from kegs out on the patio. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, squeezing yourself up next to a couple other people and waiting your turn to actually get the attention of one of the bartenders. You fumble with your wallet and get your ID out, managing to order a tequila sunrise; your go-to drink for a fancy, Kook heavy event, something sweet to mask the hard liquor inside but still strong enough to distract you from your impeding thoughts. You grip the edge of the bar tightly, closing your eyes as you take one more deep breath, trying to block out the noisy chaos around you. Just a few drinks and then you can escape to the beach and hope no one will find you.

You look around and meet Rafe’s gaze from the other side of the bar. He’s been watching you since the moment you entered the country club. He flashes you a small smirk, his eyes lingering on you as people bustle and push around you, filling up the bar and blocking him out from you. He watches you for another moment, his body still slouched against the bar, talking to the people around him, before he finally pushes himself up, and starts to weave through the crowd towards you instead.

You grab your drink, handing the bartender a cash tip before turning around, meeting Rafe face to face. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” He replies with a charming smile, taking a step closer to you, standing just a bit closer than was strictly necessary. “Fancy seeing you here,” He muses, raising his beer to his lips and taking a sip. “Thought you hated Midsummers.”

“I do, but uh…” You sigh. “My parents want me to be here, so…”

“Right,” Rafe sighs softly, taking another drink of his beer. His eyes flick up and down your form as he does, the corner of his lips twisting up in a slight smirk. “Well, I’m glad I get the privilege of seeing you all dressed up, then.”

You feel your face grow warm. “Yeah, I guess.”

He chuckles at how awkward you are, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before flicking back down to your body. “You look nice, by the way.” He compliments. It was genuine enough, his gaze lingering over your curves and the low neckline of your dress, before they flick back up to your face.

“Thanks,” You say. “You do too.”

That little compliment sends a jolt through Rafe's chest, and he tries to keep his face as neutral as possible so that you don’t see. He doesn’t get compliments like that often - not genuine ones, anyway. He smiles to himself, his face softening a bit before he catches himself. “Yeah, well, I gotta look good, you know?” He replies, giving you a wink before taking another swig of his beer.

“Yeah, uh…” You look behind him and immediately make eye contact with Topper, who doesn’t advert his eyes. You look away, stirring your drink with the straw. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun, alright?” You walk away before Rafe can respond, pushing through the crowd to find a seat.

He lets out a sigh, watching you disappear into the crowd, before pushing himself away from the bar, and returning to the group he was with. Topper and Kelce both look his direction as he comes up to them.

“What was that about?” Kelce asks, raising a brow. 

Rafe shrugs, bringing the beer bottle to his lips. “I’ll catch up with her later.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

You try to enjoy Midsummers. You really do.

You drink your tequila sunrise rather quickly, hoping the warmth of the alcohol with calm your nerves, but it does the opposite. It’s overwhelming - the lights, the music, the people. Every once in a while a hand will grab your ass, or brush against your side as it reaches past you, and it’s all slowly becoming suffocating. Your heart pounding in your ears drowns out the shitty house music, and you feel nauseous as you make your way through the crowd, trying to find the exit to the patio. 

Your escape into the patio doesn’t seem to do much, though. The patio is just as full as the house, people sitting in the outdoor seating to eat and talk while others dance. A bonfire burns in the corner, and a few small groups stand about it, talking and drinking and laughing. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool sea air on your skin as you make your way through the patio, heading towards the beach entrance. You had to get away, your skin already starting to itch with discomfort.

You finally make it to the beach entrance, the sounds of the party in the country club fading slightly as you take in the sound of the ocean instead. It’s cooler here than inside the club, but somehow even the beach is still packed. Couples sit together against the dunes, talking quietly in hushed whispers, and the air is thick with the smell of weed as people pass joints between one another.

You can feel yourself getting annoyed, getting angry. You just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, away from the loud ass Pogues and the other Kooks with their leering gazes. You walk through the sand, sandals in hand, trying to find an empty spot. It takes a few moments of walking across the beach to finally find an empty spot, surrounded by a cliffside, though it’s not much of one. You’re far enough from the party that the light from the bonfire on the patio doesn’t reach you, and the music and the laughter is faint from far away. Still, you’re just close enough to the country club that you can hear the thumping bass.

You’re surrounded on all sides by couples that have gathered on the beach, too. You can hear their whispers and laughter, quiet intimate moments in the setting sun, and it just seems to make you angrier. You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the sun as it settles into the horizon, watching the colours change.

The sun slips behind the horizon, the sky slowly fading from purple and orange to the black of night, lit up only by pale stars and a crescent moon. The air grows colder as night creeps in, a soft breeze sweeping off the ocean, carrying the sound of the waves hitting into a soft roar in your ears. It’s still too loud. The voices of the couples on the beach next to you and the music from the club don’t allow any kind of peace, no quiet moments for you to just breathe.

You set your bag down beside you, digging through it to pull out your journal and your pen. You start to write another entry, undated, just like the rest of them. It’s just pages of your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, words pouring out of you in the dim light of the setting sun. It’s just your stream of consciousness, all the things you’re feeling and thinking. It feels good, like a release to just unload it all onto the page, and every word that comes off of your mind and into the journal just serves to relieve the growing tension in you. Your shoulders start to droop, your mind too focused on writing and the sound of the crashing waves to pay attention to the couples around you.

The world fades away, and it’s just you, the crashing of the waves, and your pen on the page. Your mind empties and it’s finally so, so quiet, the weight off of your shoulders almost lifting you up entirely. You’re so focused, so deep into your writing, finally having the peace and quiet you were wanting--

The pen nearly flies out of your hand when you jump, feeling someone tap on your shoulder. You quickly shut the journal, your head spinning around. “Jesus, dude! You scared the shit out of me!”

And there’s Rafe, standing there behind you, a grin on his face as he watches you quickly clutch your journal to your chest. He puts out a placating hand, giving you an almost innocent look. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” 

You sigh, your shoulders tense again. “It’s fine.”

His face falls slightly, no longer grinning, as he notices just how tense you are. He glances around for a moment, taking in the couples on the beach around you all curled up to one another. He swallows, looking back to you. “You alright?”

“Fine, just…” You sigh again. “Overwhelmed, I guess. I get bad anxiety at things like this. I can normally handle it, but…”

He watches you for a second, studying your face, the way you hold the journal to your chest, the way your shoulders are still tense. The way you’re clearly still on edge. He slowly sits down next to you, the sand shifting under him. He stretches out his legs in front of him, dropping his hands into the sand, and his knee pressed against yours. You slip your journal and pen back into your bag.

He stays quiet, just sitting with you, listening to the waves and the sounds of the couples next to you. He finally speaks after another moment, his voice quiet. “Why’d you come if it makes you so anxious?”

“My parents,” You say. “They expect me to come. I have to, for like appearances and stuff. The ladies at my mom’s book club like to gossip, you know?”

He lets out a quiet snort, nodding. “Yeah, I get the whole appearances thing. This whole party is basically just an excuse for the Kooks to flaunt their money and kiss ass.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He smiles a bit to himself as you laugh quietly, but his gaze still watches you for a moment longer before he turns to look forward, watching the waves as they crash into one another and spill onto the beach. He’s quieter than usual tonight. Usually he’d make some kind of smart ass comment to go with his answer, but tonight he seems almost pensive.

You sigh, leaning your head against the side of his bicep. “It’s just so loud in there and people kept touching me. I don’t know how you do it.”

Rafe’s shoulders tense at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away from you, he just lets you lean against him for a long moment. He swallows a little bit, his hand twitching in the sand in-between you too, before he finally speaks again. “You get used to it, after a while.”

You hum in response. “Is it cool that I’m doing this?”

“Yeah,” He replies quickly, his shoulders finally relaxing as he takes in a deep breath. It’s silent for another moment, but the way his muscles relax under your touch makes it clear that he appreciated it. “Yeah, it’s fine. You can do whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Rafey.” You mumble, the old nickname tumbling out. “I’m feeling better already.”

Rafe stiffens at that nickname, his breath catching in his throat just for a second. He was surprised to hear it again - it had been years since he’d last heard you call him that. He swallows, forcing himself to stay calm as the nickname stirs a little bit of that old feeling in his chest. “Yeah, you look a little better too. Less green.”

You snort. “Thanks.”

He gives you a slight nudge with his elbow, smirking a bit at your snort, but his smirk fades almost immediately, his face falling back into a more thoughtful look. He stays silent another moment, still listening to the waves and the couples around you, but his thoughts seem to be a million miles away. He finally speaks again, voice quiet. “How often do you get anxious? At events like this, I mean.”

“I’m anxious from the second I arrive until the second I leave,” You say. “I’m not built for crowded events. I don’t like when people stare at me.”

He keeps his gaze on the ocean, but his shoulders sink a bit at hearing that. He never knew that, to be honest - he always assumed you were built for these kinds of parties, more at peace with crowds since you were born into it. The fact that you’re just as anxious as he used to be makes his chest ache a bit, and his gaze flicks over to you. “How’re you feeling now, though?”

“Better, now that you’re here.” You say, wrapping your arms around his bicep, leaning against him.

His breath catches again, his stomach jumping when you wrap your arms around his arm, and his hand twitches a bit, like he thought about wrapping it around you for a moment before he stopped himself. He swallows, but he still can’t fight the slight flush that rises up his neck as he stares forward, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Why, do I just have a calming aura?”

“It’s the familiarity, I guess,” You say. “I feel safe around you.”

Rafe’s shoulders relax a bit more at that answer, his face softening slightly, and his smile grows the slightest bit. He can feel his own heartbeat in his chest still, but he lets out a breath, trying to keep his cool. “Good, that’s uh… I mean,” He swallows, trying to think of what the right thing to say is, before settling for the truth. “I want you to feel safe around me.”

“Good.” You say. You look up at him, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. His gaze flicks back down to you again, and he looks down at you as you stare up at him, before he slowly raises a hand, lightly brushing a strand of hair out of your face. He studies you a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, taking in how calm you look now as you leaned against his side. There was something about you that Rafe was drawn to, and he couldn’t explain why. All he knew was that he loved the way you felt against him. For a split second, his gaze flicks down to your lips, the smallest moment where he’s tempted to lean down and kiss you.

He turns back to face the horizon, sneaking his arm out of your grasp and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You comply happily, wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets out a quiet sigh as you wrap your arms around his waist, his face flushing more as you get closer to him. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, looking forward towards the sea. It was so peaceful - the waves, the cool breeze, the feeling of your body against his. It was just perfect.

He breaks the silence. “You doin’ anything after this?”

“No,” You say, rubbing some of the material of his shirt between your thumb and pointer finger. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Rafe says, his hand moving up to absently play with the hair at the back of your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, and he smirks slightly, pulling you closer. “Havin’ an after party if you wanna come. Top and Kel already left to get it started.”

“Who’s gonna be there?” You ask.

“The boys,” He says with a slight shrug, running a finger along the side of your neck, tracing it along your skin. “Some people from the club too. But I want you there, if you think you'll be okay.” He adds as an afterthought, his hand settling gently against the side of your neck, his thumb ghosting back and forth against your skin.

“Promise to take care of me?” You ask, your tone joking. 

Rafe chuckles a bit, smiling lightly as you joke. He nods, running his thumb in small, comforting circles against your skin. “I'll look after you. I won't let you out of my sight.”

“Then I’ll do it,” You say. “Should be fine. I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

He smiles, leaning his head down and pressing a whispery kiss to the top of your head. “Good, cause I want you there. Everyone else sucks.” His thumb brushes along your neck one more time before he draws his hand back, returning it to rest on top of one of your arms around his waist. His gaze flicks from the ocean back to you, studying your face again as you leaned against him. “Can I tell you somethin’?”

You nod, looking back over the horizon. Rafe takes a deep breath, his hand absently rubbing up and down your back as he gathers his words, trying to decide how to say this without ruining everything. He was always awkward when it came to things like this, and having a beautiful girl in his arms made it even more difficult to say. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask.

His eyes linger on yours for another moment before he speaks again. “For leaving you that morning without saying goodbye. I was… I was just scared. Scared after losing Ward. I just had to go home.”

You smile softly, squeezing him. “It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. You were going through a lot.”

His shoulders relax as you squeeze him, a soft breath escaping him when you say you understand, and a soft smile appears on his face. He pulls you more snugly against him, his face flushed from your squeeze, and he presses another soft kiss to your head, letting out another one of those soft breaths. “Good, I’m glad you get that. Um… you know I care about you, right? Like, a lot. That’s… I mean, that’s not gonna change. I…” He trails off for a second, hesitating before finally continuing. “You mean a lot to me.”

“I care about you too, Rafey.” You whisper, looking back up at him.

His eyes soften, his stomach jumping. His heartbeat is still quick in his chest - he can still feel it through his ribs. He swallows quietly, a hand slipping up the side of your neck, fingers grazing up until they’re under your chin. He slowly raises your chin up, staring down into your eyes. “I’m glad,” You smile softly, leaning against his shoulder. His gaze lingers on your face for another moment, studying your sweet look a moment longer before he leans down, leaning his forehead against yours. The hand on your neck stays in place a moment, his thumb brushing your jaw, before sliding down your neck again. “You ready to get outta here?”

You nod. “Yeah. Ready when you are.”

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing over your neck one final time, before he slowly pulls away. He pushes himself up, groaning a bit as he straightens, his back popping. He reaches down and offers you a hand. “C’mon, beautiful.” 

Your face grows warm again as you take his hand, putting your bag over your shoulder. He pulls you up with ease, a hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you once you’re on your feet again. He lets out a soft sigh, looking at your face again, before starting to walk with his hand resting on your lower back, guiding you up the beach.

You make your way to the country club. You hang around outside, waiting for Rafe to say his goodbyes, as you wipe your sandy feet off on the grass, slipping your sandals back on. He doesn’t take long inside, giving a few last farewells to the few people still mingling in the country club before heading back out to you, still waiting for him. He can’t keep the slight smirk off of his face as he steps out, spotting you waiting around. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You say.

He smiles, walking over to you and resting his hand on your back again, guiding you away from the country club and towards the parking lot. His hand drops from your back when you get to his car, but his fingers brush your arm as he walks past you. He unlocks his truck before rushing around and opening up the passenger side door. “After you.” He said with a smirk.

You climb in, getting comfy. His car is always clean, a bottle of sunscreen and a water bottle in his cupholders. Dangling from the rearview mirror is a pear scented air freshener and a photo of him with his sisters Sarah and Wheezie. “Is it at your place?”

Rafe closes the door behind you and quickly walks around, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. He doesn’t immediately drive off, though, and instead just starts the car and leans back in his seat, letting it idle for a moment. “Mhm. My new place. That cool?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Yeah, course.” You say.

“Good,” He says, pulling his seat belt on and pulling out of the parking lot, pulling out onto the road and driving towards his new house. The sun had set a while ago and the drive is peaceful, Head over Heels by Tears for Fears playing softly from the radio as the wind brushes through your hair from the slightly-open windows. You admire him as he drives, watching him quietly sing along, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

He doesn’t catch your eyes watching him until he glances over at you for a moment. He smiles when he catches you looking at him, his cheeks growing a bit warmer, but he quickly turns his gaze forward again, focusing on the road. He doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music and keeps driving. As you approach his new house, he turns the radio off, Heat Of The Moment by Asia just getting seconds to start playing. He parks the car, quickly getting out to rush over to the passenger side to open the door for you.

“Thanks.” You say, hopping out.

“No problem.” He smiles, holding out a hand to help you out. When you’re safely on the ground again, he keeps your hand in his, shutting and locking the car before guiding you towards the house. As he does so, he glances down at you, his face growing a bit warmer when he realises that you’re now holding his hand.

He opens the door, the party already in full swing, music blasting while drunk Kooks grind up against each other. The house reeks of alcohol and weed, music blasting through the speakers and people talking loudly amongst themselves. The majority of the crowd appears to be drunk and/or high already, people swaying and staggering around each other, talking and laughing drunkenly. Rafe slips inside, pulling you along with him through the crowd, heading straight for the kitchen, where Topper and Kelce are, beers in hand while they talk to a few of Rafe’s other friends.

“Where can I put my bag?” You ask, keeping it close to you.

He looks at the bag, opening the fridge. “Yo, Top.”

Topper looks over. “Sup?”

Rafe grabs your bag, handing it to Topper. “Put this in my room and I’ll let you snort some lines.”

Topper seems intrigued by the promise of free cocaine, already heading out of the kitchen towards the stairs. 

“Thanks, Rafe.” You say. 

He shuts the fridge door. “No problem,” He watches Topper head off before turning back to you, resting his hand on your lower back. “You want a beer or somethin’?”

You shake your head, getting closer to him. “No, I’m good.”

He smiles softly, rubbing small circles with his thumb against your back. “You sure? Plenty of stuff you can try out.” He nods towards where the makeshift bar is set up in the living room, various bottles of liquor and hard alcohol all stacked up.

You shake your head again, fully leaning against him. “Nah. I’m good right now.”

He smiles, putting a bit of pressure against your back, pulling you closer. He’s a bit buzzed himself, a few drinks into the evening, and feeling good already. He leans down a bit, almost resting his chin on your head. “Alright, beautiful.” You lean against Rafe, head resting against his chest as he talks to his friends for a while, beer bottle in hand. You’re feeling a bit anxious, but all things considered, being right against him is providing you some comfort. Your eyes flutter closed for just a second before you open them again.

Topper approaches, a stupid smile on his face, definitely a little drunk. Rafe smiles, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair for the time being. He glances over when Topper approaches, seeing the smile on his face. He lets out a snort, looking at his friend. “You snort something already?”

Topper ignores him, hands immediately going to cup your face. “You…” He shakes your head. “I know about you.”

“What?” You ask, trying to pull away.

“I know,” He repeats. “I know what you do.” He doesn’t let you go, his hands lingering on the sides of your face, though his hands are now a bit more rough.

Rafe’s face falls immediately, a bad feeling brewing in his gut. “Top, what are you talking about?”

“You left your journal in your bag,” Topper says, squeezing your face. “I read it. Couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart drops, a chill going over your skin. “What?”

Topper grins stupidly, still squeezing your face in a way that’s making you uncomfortable. “I read it.” He repeats. “You and all of your anxiety.”

Rafe’s eyes fill with dread as he hears that, his eyes widening slightly with terror. He swallows. “You weren’t supposed to read that, dude.”

“Oh, that’s not all!” Topper exclaims happily. “Someone…someone’s got a crush on you, Rafe.” Topper glances over at him. “A big, fat, gigantic crush on you. Half those pages are about you, man.”

You try to pull your face away, but his grip tightens. Your stomach twists and churns, hot, shameful tears welling in your eyes. Rafe’s heart drops into his stomach at Topper’s words, and his gaze flicks over to you almost immediately, his eyes widening when he sees the tears. He swallows, trying to stay calm as he takes a step forward. “Topper, let her go, man. Don’t do this right now.”

Topper lets go of your face, pushing you slightly. “Don’t tell me you pity her, man.”

“She didn’t do anything,” Rafe argues with his friend, clenching his hands into fists. “C’mon, man, you don’t gotta do this. Just leave her alone.”

“Hey, listen,” Topper grabs your arm when you try to walk away. “I won’t tell anyone. All you gotta do is get down on your knees and open your pretty mouth for me, alright? All you gotta do is put my balls in that pretty little mouth of yours, and I won’t tell a soul.”

Rafe pushes Topper away from you, sending him tumbling into the counter. “You’re being a dick, man, don’t say that shit to her. Come on.” 

Topper stands up and shoves him. “Don’t be a pussy, Rafe. She can handle it.”

“I don’t care if she can handle it, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Rafe says angrily.

“Why do you care?” Topper asks. “You care about this little slut?” Rafe goes to lunge at him but stops himself, and it causes Topper to laugh. “What? You gonna hit me?”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Rafe says. “Just shut up. Don’t talk to her like that. I won’t let you treat her that way. Quit being an asshole before I fuck you up.”

Topper laughs. “I could kick your ass, man, and you know that.”

“Yeah?” Rafe challenges. “Come on. Hit me.” He slaps his cheek over and over, inviting Topper to take a swing.

“Rafe, hey, stop,” You grab his arm. “Don’t fight. Come on.”

Rafe doesn’t look at you as you grab his arm, his eyes still locked on Topper’s, waiting for a punch, daring his friend to hit him. Topper hesitates, waiting for a moment before finally grinning and dropping his shoulders. “Look at that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“You know what? Party’s over,” Rafe says. He cups around his mouth before yelling. “Everyone, get the fuck out!”

Almost immediately, everyone starts heading for the door, the party rapidly dying out as people start piling out into the night. The music dies down as Topper pushes past Rafe, his shoulder checking him on his way out. “Pussy.”

Rafe just clenches his fists, biting his lip, as he stands there and watches everyone leaving. The door slams shut with the final departure, and you look over at him, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear. “You okay?”

When the door shuts for the last time, he turns to look at you, his heart breaking at the sight of the tears in your eyes. He swallows, moving towards you and cupping your face, wiping away the other stray tears off of your face. “I’m good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You say softly. 

“Good,” He says softly, sighing. He keeps his hands on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You’re good. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about Topper.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say.

“Still,” He sighs. “You didn’t deserve that. That’s not how any of this should’ve happened.” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours as guilt overflows his chest.

Your eyes close and you sigh, leaning into his hands. He lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he just feels you lean into him, a warm feeling going through his chest. He’s not even quite sure what to say, still overwhelmed from the events that have just unfolded in front of him. He just stands there with his eyes closed, pressing his face against your forehead. 

“He was telling the truth,” You say, breaking the silence. “About what he read.”

He swallows, keeping his eyes closed for a few more seconds before slowly opening them again. “I know, beautiful.” He replies softly, his voice nearly a whisper.

Your stomach twists. “You knew that I liked you?”

“Yeah, I knew,” He replies softly. “I’ve known for a while.” He hesitates, his fingers grazing against your cheek. “Didn’t know you felt that strongly about me, though.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you pull away, trying not to cry. You felt so stupid. “They were… they were older entries, Rafe.” Although deep down, you knew you still felt the same way.

His face falls when you try to pull away, guilt filling his gut, and he quickly moves his hand to catch your wrist, trying to stop you. “Hey, wait, don’t pull away, please,” His eyes look sad when he sees that trembling lip, his grip tightening on your hand. “It’s okay, beautiful, please just stay.”

“No, no, you…” You shudder. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m not ‘doing’ anything, beautiful,” He says softly. “Stop pulling away. Stay. I’m trying to talk to you. I… I want to talk to you about this.”

“I know you don’t feel the same way, Rafe,” You say pathetically, starting to cry. “You don’t have to do this.”

He swallows, the guilt just building and building and building as he watches you start to cry, and he can’t stand to watch you cry for another second without doing something about it. He takes a step forward, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me.” You look up at him, whimpering slightly.

He gently wipes away your tears, his gaze locking on yours as he forces you to look him in the eye. His face is soft, his look comforting, and his own chest hurts just from looking at the hurt in your teary eyes. He swallows to collect himself before speaking. “I know they were older entries, but I know you still like me.”

You shake your head, but you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, yourself or Rafe. “Rafe, please, you don’t have to do this.”

He can tell that you’re trying to deny it, and when you start begging him not to do whatever he’s trying to say, he finally just breaks. “Stop.” He says, almost begging himself. His thumb presses against your jaw, trying to still you and get you to look into his eyes. “Please, just stop. Stop saying that I- that I don’t have to say anything. I need to say this.”

You nod, letting him talk.

He swallows again, trying to organise his words and say everything right in his mind before he says it all out loud. It’ll be too real if he does. He holds your face in his hands as he looks down at you, his own chest rising and falling as he tries to find the words. “I know that you still like me, and I know you’ve felt that way about me for a long time. But I just… I’m just terrified I’m going to mess it up. Like I always mess everything else up.”

“You don’t mess anything up.” You say.

He looks away for a moment before looking back into your eyes, swallowing. “Beautiful, I do. I mess everything up. That’s just who I am, I mess everything good up, and I can’t bear the idea of risking messing it up with you too. You matter too much to me. You, like, you actually mean something to me, and I just can’t stand the idea of not being able to be in your life because I messed everything up.”

“How would you mess this up?” You ask softly.

He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself again. “I don’t know. I don’t know how, but I would. I mean, I screw everything else up, so why should this be any different? I’m gonna get too messed up and act too crazy and do something that pushes you away. And you’ll hate me, or, or worse, you’ll just go away. You’ll walk out of my life and it’ll just be like you were never there.”

“I’ll never leave you like that, Rafey.” You say, leaning into his palms.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling you lean into his hands. It feels so good, so right, that he can’t stand it. He lets out a breath before opening his eyes again, swallowing hard. “You say that now, beautiful, but it doesn’t change anything,” He says softly. “I know I’m gonna screw this up, I’m gonna do something that hurts you, and I just can’t stand the idea of ever hurting you, beautiful, I…” He trails off, his chest constricting as he desperately tries to get his words out. “I lost Ward. I'm loosing Sarah to that fucker John B. She doesn’t even go by Sarah Cameron anymore. I can't lose you too.”

“You’ll never lose me.” You say, moving your hands up to cup his.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels the warmth of your hands wrapping around his, your words like a soothing touch to his own soul. It’s like everything inside him just settles at your words, a feeling he hadn’t realised he was craving for the longest time. He opens his eyes again, slowly, before looking down at you. “Promise?”

“I promise,” You say. “I…” You hesitate, sucking in a breath. His chest is a nervous wreck, his stomach twisting into so many goddamn knots as he just waits for your words, his eyes never once leaving yours.

You take a shaky, tear filled breath. “I love you.”

Everything falls silent. Rafe’s mind goes blank, all thoughts just vanishing from his head as those words fall from your lips. All that fills his head is your voice. I love you. I love you, it echoes, over and over and over again, bouncing around his mind like a ball in a dark room. He can’t think of anything else as those words just crash through his head, leaving everything in rubble. His heart feels like it’s stopped, that it’s just frozen in his chest, and he’s speechless.

Your bottom lip trembles again, a fresh new set of tears already welling in your eyes. “Please say something. Please do something.”

When you plead for him to speak or do something, it snaps him out of his daze, and his heart comes back to life. It starts pumping again like he’s run a mile, and suddenly he’s all movement as he suddenly pulls you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He just holds you like that at first, hugging you tight tight tight, his head burying against the side of your neck, letting out a huge breath against your skin.

“You don’t have to say it back,” You say, wrapping your arms around him. “I know it’s hard for you to say, and you don’t have to say it back to me.”

He just hugs you tighter when you say that, his hands clutching at the back of your shirt. “Shut up,” He mumbles against the side of your neck, his voice a whisper. “Just shut up. You stupid, beautiful girl. Shut up. Shut up.”

You let out a small laugh, hugging him tighter.

Rafe hugs you even tighter at the sound of your laugh, his arms wrapped so tightly around your back that you might have trouble breathing soon. His heart is still beating a mile a minute, and he just wants to squeeze all the air out of you, so that you’re forced to only breathe him. He buries his face against your neck again, his voice a whisper when he speaks. “Say it again. Please.”

“I love you.” You whisper into his ear, kissing his temple.

His breath catches in his throat when you whisper those words again, saying them against his ear and kissing his temple, and he can’t take it. He squeezes you tighter, almost afraid you’re going to disappear if he doesn’t hold you tight enough, if he doesn’t hold you close enough. His lips suddenly press against your neck, kissing it over and over, his voice a shaky whisper. “I'll say it. Eventually. I just can't right now.”

“I know.” You whisper.

He buries his face against your neck, still kissing your skin over and over as his mind races, trying to collect himself. “Stop telling me it’s okay. Stop being so damn forgiving, beautiful girl. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” You say.

He sighs against your neck, finally pulling away, though he still keeps his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He doesn’t look you in the eye, his eyes falling to the collar of your shirt, his eyes just locking on the skin of your throat. “I’m a mess,” He says. “I’ve never done anything right in my life. I mess everything up. Why do you want to put up with that?”

“Because I love you,” You say again. “I always have, and I always will. Even if we don’t end up together, I’ll still fucking love you.”

His breath catches to hear you say that. Hearing those three words again makes his stomach twist and his mind go blank, but he finally forces himself to look into your eyes again. He swallows before speaking. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You say, sticking a pinky up.

His eyes fall on your pinky, and for a moment he just stares at it, seeing it in front of his face. When he finally comes to his senses, he lifts a hand off your waist to reach forward and lock his pinky with yours, his eyes locking back on yours. When he locks your fingers together, a warmth rushes through his chest, like a weight has just been lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes grow soft as he stares into your eyes. For a while, he just stands there, looking at you as he takes in the fact that you… love him. That you’re, actually, in love love with him. And he’s standing here, holding your hand in front of him, just trying his best to keep his shit together.

Rafe swallows hard before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

“God, fuck, please do.” You breathe out.

God, he can’t believe he’s actually hearing that from you - begging him for a kiss. His heart leaps in his chest to hear that, that soft, pleading response, and he barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s suddenly surging forward, pressing his lips against your own. His hands release your waist and instead move up to cup your face, tilting your head back as he suddenly kisses you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he keeps his hands on your face as he kisses you, pulling you flush against him, closing his eyes. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced - he’s kissed plenty of girls before, sure, but he’s never felt this. You, you feel so different. He can’t even begin to put into words what it is about you that makes it different, what it is that makes you different from all of the girls he’s kissed before.

All he knows is that it is.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[peachhcs]

through the feeds → social media post

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy x will)

some jumbled together recent posts on instagram from samy & the crew!

wanted to change some things up, so here’s some social media discourse from everyone & what they’ve been doing lately & probably the longest social media fic i’ve done (can u spot the mention of my other au that i haven't worked on since like february😭)

au masterlist

samyhughes some of summer & some of first sem

view all comments

user1 and she’s eating as always

user2 love love loveeee herrrr

hannahduke and she’s eating! and she’s slaying! mama..a hot girl behind you!

| samyhughes PEAK brain rot u are so funny

| hannahduke yeah i know don’t have to tell me 😌

| nick.moldenhauer i know that’s right!

| samyhughes get out of my comments with that

edwards.73 wow she's all grown up can't believe it

| samyhughes what am i gonna do without u next year 🥲

| edwards.73 don't remind me.

teddystiga_ no will???

| samyhughes he was in my last post

user3 wowowo ur gorg actually i wanna be u

user4 to be samy hughes wow

jameshagens_4 pro golfer right here

| samyhughes yeah i know what can i sayyyy

lhughes_06 where am i?? jack?? quinn? will?

| samyhughes dawg we barely took any pics together this summer u can't be talking

markestapa our sophomore ❤️

| samyhughes our senior citizen ❤️

zeevbuium28 damn what did will do to u 💔

| samyhughes plsssss he did nothing i swear

_quinnhughes come back to van

| samyhughes buy my ticket? 😁

ryan.leno_4 wow she's so michigan

| samyhughes wow i am

julianne_gelinas come back to boston we miss u

| samyhughes SEE YA THANKSGIVING!

jackhughes kind of hurt i'm not featured but when tf did u go golfing??

| samyhughes with will 🤗

| jackhughes bruh so u can go with him and not us

user5 will's so luckyyyy

user6 if samy has no fans i'm dead

gabeperreault44 wow these are good!

| samyhughes wow thanks gp! see ya in boston next week

rutgermcgroarty making me miss mich

| samyhughes it's not the same without u

kayleighdocherty_ sooo pretty samy!

| samyhughes love u kay!

aram_minnetian justice for my man wow

| samyhughes @_willsmith2 pls tell them i still love you

| _willsmith2 she doesn't love me anymore

user7 she knowsss she's hot

user8 still can't believe she's dating will smith

mackcelebrini san jose visit soon?

| samyhughes in the off season!

beckettsennecke_ make that san jose visit an anaheim one as well

| samyhughes on it!

_willsmith2 wow ur so cool

| samyhughes no way u too

_willsmith2 i'm in love with you

| samyhughes i'm in love with YOU come see me soon

_willsmith2 all good things 〽️📍

view all comments

gabeperreault44 FIRST LIKE

gabeperreault44 wow ok made the cut on last pic i guess??

gabeperreault44 THREE photos of samy and ONE of me...damn..

gabeperreault44 ALSO 5th pic???? crazyyyyyy but we know what u guys were up to...😏

| _willsmith2 four comments? new record for you. at least u made the cut and what can i say? i love my girlfriend

ryan.leno_4 we ALLL know why u posted pics 4 and 5..

| _willsmith2 shut up

lhughes_06 i can't believe my sister makes the instagram more than i do now.

| _willsmith2 sorry moosey 😭

lhughes_06 i also don't approve of pic 5. i thought we talked about this and ur hands..

| _willsmith2 i plead the 5th

user1 WOW this man really loves his gf where is my hockey bf

user2 sooo why aren't all hockey men like this bc COME ON 3 photos for her in this post????

zeevbuium28 ur sooo down bad hahaha

| _willsmith2 and what about it

jameshagens_4 honestly i respect

| ryan.leno_4 at least u got a feature 😭

rutgermgroarty u should kiss me instead

| _willsmith2 on my way!

mackcelebrini tuff

| _willsmith2 🥱

user3 hand placement helloooooo

user4 hottest couple fr

user5 these are so cute waittt awww

user6 i love when guys post their gfs all the time

edwards.73 we were chilling until pic 5...

| _willsmith2 i'm sorry 😭

markestapa so when's the wedding?

| _willsmith2 😳

jackhughes just glad to see u both really happy

| _willsmith2 wait thanks rowdy

_quinnhughes he's all grown up now

| _willsmith2 see u again in 3 🫡

user7 will immediately apologizing when ethan calls him out LMAO so funny

hannahduke this is basically a samy fan account now

| samyhughes i told u he was obsessed with me

aram_minnetian incredible, outstanding, breathtaking

| _willsmith2 what i do best

drewf2 yk what? hell yeah i appreciate the grind

| samyhughes MORE BRAIN ROT i can't escape it

| _willsmith2 how is this even brain rot? 😭

| samyhughes u just don't get it

julianne_gelinas she def trained u well

| samyhughes can't make him look like couch guy

| _willsmith2 now that's brain rot

michaelhagens_11 bagged it frrr

| _willsmith2 100%

graceccsmith so cutie will

| _willsmith2 miss u gracie ❤️

samyhughes 3 features?? wow i feel so special

| _willsmith2 u for sure are

samyhughes yuppp we look good in pic 5 idk what people are talking about

| _willsmith2 me neither😻

gabeperreault44 threw in some archival finds

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_willsmith2 awkward thumbs up for the win

| gabeperreault44 i honestly don't even remember that pic

ryan.leno_4 wow throwback for sure

| gabeperreault44 is that sarcasm

| ryan.leno_4 what makes you say that

aram_minnetian woooowwww 1st pic...😏

| gabeperreault44 like it? 😛

user1 AWWW the 4th pic is adorable

user2 i always wonder what prompts them to add these pics into the photo dump

drewf2 good shit

| gabeperreault44 soph szn 🔥

jacob_fowler24 wow ur so cool fr

| gabeperreault44 am i?

emmagcooper wow these are great gabe!

| gabeperreault44 wow thanks em!

user3 i miss seing leno smitty and gp all together at bc

user4 doesn't feel the same without smitty there with them😭

user5 he's the cutest omg

hannahduke great photo choices gabe!

| gabeperreault44 thanks hannah!

liliane_perreault so cute gp! miss u

| gabeperreault44 miss u too lili

jameshagens_4 wow so aesthetic

| gabeperreault44 trying something new yk

| michaelhagens_11 be real emma chose half of these for him

| emmagcooper now who said that??

samyhughes AWWW i miss u gabo come to michigan soon

| gabeperreault44 only if u come to boston first

eamonpowell_ looking fresh gp!

| gabeperreault44 appreciate it e

jperreault_44 looking good brotha

| gabeperreault44 thanks jp

_willvote this good 🔥

| gabeperreault44 🔥 u know it

rutgermcgroarty might cheer for bc this year...

| gabeperreault44 bold of u to say that on here

ryan.leno_4 not a lot going on

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gabeperreault44 TUFF lean

| ryan.leno_4 keeping it quiet 🤫

_willsmith2 is this contract posting?

| ryan.lneo_4 does it seem like it?

user1 crazy photo lineup tbh

user2 so adorable actually

user3 i love reading everyone's comments they're so funny

drewf2 GETTT ITTT

| ryan.leno_4 climbing our way uppp

aram_minnetian wow ur hot leno

| ryan.leno_4 no u

julianne_gelinas these are interesting pics to pair together

| ryan.leno_4 if u hate me just say it

| julianne_gelinas ur so weird

user4 i lowk wish i was friends with all of them they seem so fun to be around

user6 this post screams hockey kid

rutgermcgroarty yuppp fresh

| ryan.leno_4 🥱

jameshagens_4 mhmm u know it

michaelhagens_11 woah who's that in 3rd pic 😏

teddystiga_ WOAH 3rd pic...mhm

| gabeperreault44 i gyatt to know who it is

| samyhughes now this was crazy

| ryan.leno_4 😉

zeevbuium28 be mine? 😫

| ryan.leno_4 i'm taken already

samyhughes no julianne feature is criminal

| julianne_gelinas that's what i'm saying

| ryan.leno_4 pls don't cancel me

jacob_fowler24 u should marry me instead lean

| ryan.leno_4 tempting offer but i have to refuse

hannahduke i can't figure out the vibe of this tbh

| ryan.leno_4 it's ok u don't need to figure it out

_willvote my idol

| ryan.leno_4 ur my idol

hannahduke 3's my lucky number

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samyhughes ur KIDDING i love u

| hannahduke i LOVE U BABE

julianne_gelinas hotttttt omg

| hannahduke that's literally all u

user1 damn all of these friends are so good looking

user2 what does it take to be a part of this friend group?

nick_moldenhauer mich year 2

| hannahduke i love mich

dylanduke25 ur ugly

| hannahduke alright.

tyler__duke5 twin

| hannahduke my twin

kayleighdocherty_ literally adorable hannah

| hannahduke love uuuuu

alyssa_duke AWWW han i miss u so much ur so cute

| hannahduke miss u too lyss ❤️

user3 hannah duke > dylan and tyler

| user4 LMAOOOOOO

gabeperreault44 tuff hannah

| samyhughes these comments from them confuse me

| hannahduke no same

ryan.leno_4 nice rainbow

| hannahduke isn't it nice?

zeevbuium28 soo group meetup when?

| hannahduke ask miss hughes when we're going to the lake house @samyhughes

| samyhughes texting jack and quinn rn

_willsmith2 i see we're competing for the most samy feature rn...

| hannahduke oh i didn't know this turned into a competition.

| samyhughes guysss don't fight over me

samyhughes me and this team #team30 let's keep it coming 〽️

view all comments

gabeperreault44 this is 100% contract posting

| samyhughes ok and?

ryan.leno_4 ur so obvious when u contract post

| samyhughes bruhhh leave me alone

hannahduke woo super proud of u!!!

rutgermcgroarty ok contract posting

lhughes_06 NCAA TITLE SOON!!!

| samyhughes FINGERS CROSSED!

_quinnhughes wow!! #featureher #fyp

| samyhughes wow musical.ly core

user1 #1 PLAYERRR

user2 wishing the best for her national title soon!

user3 this girl does it all wow

user4 i wish i had the brains, the boy, the skill, the friends, the looks

kayleighdocherty_ YEAHH kill it!!

jackhughes taught u well 🥱

| samyhughes 🫡

edwards.73 wait i'm gonna miss watching u play

| samyhughes now don't get emotional or else i'll be emotional

markestapa gonna miss these friday-saturday-sunday 3-4 bender weekends

| samyhughes gonna miss watching u and eth sprint from the yost to the stands

seamuscasey26 supa cool little hughes

julianne_gelinas she's so cool and awesome omg

| samyhughes no that's u

jameshagens_4 ohhh she's a soccer starrr

| samyhughes ohhhhh

zeevbuium28 remember me when ur famous

| samyhughes for sure z dw

g.brindley4 coolest hughes!

| lhughes_06 now that's offensive

jacob_trucott20 i always knew i had a favorite hughes sibling

| lhughes_06 alright

aram_minnetian still no will feature damn

| samyhughes plsss give me a break

_willsmith2 ur actually the coolest wow

| samyhughes we can tie for 1st

mackcelebrini i had no idea u played soccer

| samyhughes shut up

beckettsennecke_ my inspiration

| samyhughes 😌

teddystiga_ yupppp love a good sports post

| samyhughes had to change it up

y’all lmk if u want more bc i love doing these 🙂‍↕️

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Aww I'm so happy to hear that, friend!! 🥰🥰

It's not a problem Dean, (the gun is obviously BUT) she is beautiful and you will love her and I will cry at your wedding.

Ehehe it's funny you mention their wedding...

Dean no. No feeling bad for saving your girl and for killing the "sack of shit in human clothes."

Ugh right? Trust, he doesn't regret killing that bastard loll.

Also I didn't notice the Colonel Sanderson thing before and now all I can think about is KFC lol.😂 Which is not to take away from how good this fic is or how well it's written. It's just me lol.

Actually THANK YOU for noticing that because Colonel Sanders was an intentional reference! lmao I saw some meme that called Asmodeus "Bullshit Colonel Sanders" and it made me cackle, so I included that a little bit here. 😂😂

Oh goodness she is already so protective of him and oh my word the wink had me melting lol.

See! It's not taking that long at all for her to start softening up towards him loll. At the very least, she doesn't want to see him killed for her after killing for her.

I also don't think that I mentioned this before, but I really like how you wove in the other characters in the show. Seeing Benny and Cas show up just made me so happy.

Aww thank you!! 🥰🥰 When it comes to AUs, I try my best to fit in canon characters where they make the most sense to me, and try to make them feel "as themselves" as possible.

Oh my word seeing that fight in my head, um... YES PLEASE. And the loyalty?! The love for their friend?! The "Goodbye brother."? It's so good.

Imagining Dean in uniform, even if he's fighting his friends, just does things to me too loll.

Ultimately, Benny and Cas are good men even in this world, and they didn't want to have to bring in him or Mila to the Colonel either. 💜

She's squishing his face! That is so cute, oh my stars. Plus I am cackling at how long it took him to be able to say her name.

Ahaha this was my favorite part to write for this chapter! Dean struggled, bless his heart. 🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely love this! I really love it when writers pick the names of their characters based on the meaning behind it. And the fact that you gave the meaning of her name a backstory of her mom having a dream and the butterfly meaning that Mila "would have a free mind" is just so perfect for her. Because she is stubborn and she does have "a free mind" by being rebellious and strong, by being a strong female character who does not conform to the whims of what other people deem to be appropriate for her. Also it was funny that Dean thought she was like a "lioness."

Aww thank you!! I'm usually pretty conscious of names and the meanings behind them, but especially in this story I got deep into the research of the Lakota people, and I found that names are very important to their culture, now and historically.

When I was looking for a name for her, Kimmímila stood out as being beautiful (with a nice nickname), but perhaps on surface level didn't reflect her true personality. So that's why I worked in that backstory with her mother's dream, vs. who she wanted her daughter to be, and who Mila considers herself to be. And bonus, what Dean observes of her! lol

So I absolutely love all of your observations here, because that's exactly what I intended for her!

This is a really wonderful line, that the war "never really ends." It really fits this story and honestly it really fits the entire early history of the United States when it was acquiring territory and embracing the "manifest destiny" ideals.

Aww thank you so much!! That's what I thought as well, not just for this story, but for the greater context of U.S. history during this time and the push to industrialize the entire country.

Okay, the whole part where she is explaining things about her life and her culture was so sweet. Them opening up with one another is just so soft and a little fluffy and I'm so glad that they got to have those gentle moments with one another. Not to mention this bit where Dean admits how much he likes listening to her, is just so good lol. And I thought it was really on brand for him to be a little upset that she doesn't completely trust him yet, even though that he killed one of his men. But he's got to learn to be patient... and then propose. LOL.

That was so fun for me too! The "getting to know you" aspect. I thought that opening up to one another was needed here, and it gave an opportunity for more historical tidbits!

Ahaha yep, she's a hard nut to crack, but Dean need only be patient. He's won a lot more brownie points with her than he realizes. 😏 "And then propose" -- I'm weeeak!! 🤣

Don't be afraid to admit it Mila, we all know how good he is to look at. And why shouldn't you look at your future husband? 💍

Ha!! Ikr?? Also, you're getting dangerously warm to what's coming in Part 3. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my sweet goodness, the TENSION!! This is so good my friend and I am so excited for what the future of this series holds and am praying that it doesn't end in death!😬💗

The romantic tension is real!! lmaoo

Thank you so, so much, friend!! Part 3 is my favorite part, I think, and I hope you'll be happy with the outcome, even though we've got a fair bit of action and angst ahead...

The Honorable Choice - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…” ⬅️ If you’ve seen The King & I, then you’ll probably be singing that line in your head like I do.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Dean, historical tidbits, fluff

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 2: Death & Sacrifice

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and the hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

He just can’t do it.

His finger eases off the trigger of his gun, and he lowers it to the ground beside him.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her head tilts as she stares at his gun, then at him. She relaxes somewhat, and she backs off of him, sliding from his lap down to the grass beside him. Her closed fist with the knife comes to rest at her side. She gives him a look of wary bewilderment.

“You are a strange man,” she says.

Dean has to laugh a little, smiling at her afterward.

“I guess so,” he replies.

Her brows furrow. “You killed one of your own…for me?”

He nods, and his smile falls with a weary sigh. The hard part about that is he doesn’t feel much guilt about what he’s done. At the same time, he does, and the conflict churns in his stomach. He knew what kind of man Roman was. He was the kind of soldier that could’ve filled Colonel Sanderson’s shoes one day. A fellow soldier under Dean’s command...

And a sack of shit in human clothes.

Dean leans back on his hands in the grass and slides his legs out long. His stare falls to the earth between his boots. The ground is soft underneath him. Maybe it rained this morning. 

“Yeah, that’s gonna make it tough when I go back,” he says. “At best, that’s a court martial. At worst…”

The Lakota woman frowns, her dark brows nearly meeting in the middle as she considers him. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.

“Tell you what,” Dean said. “Give yourself and your horse a rest tonight. I’ll go back and tell them I lost you in the canyon.”

Her eyes widen further in surprise. He can’t blame her for it. He’s surprising himself every time he opens his mouth.

“Will they kill you?” she asks.

Dean shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She levels him with a firmer look, one that demands the truth.

His nonchalance wanes, and he sighs.

“They might,” he says.

She shakes her head. She seems to deliberate over something, but eventually she comes to a decision. Just when she opens her mouth to speak, a gunshot rings out and hits the ground not far from their feet. A warning.

The sound of hooves thundering on the earth reach them before they look up. Two horses gallop towards them in the distance, their riders wearing blue uniforms.

They both tense up, but Dean is the first one to move. He grabs her arm and helps her stand along with him. They scramble back and lead the horses by their reins further into the trees. They find a denser patch and a raised hill to crouch down and hide behind.

The mustang is too tired to go very far, but Baby is already making anxious sounds, protective of her rider.

“Shhh,” Dean whispers, and runs a soothing hand over her side. He leads her to lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.

The Lakota manages to do the same with the mustang after whispering to him softly in her language. There’s a trust between them, Dean realizes. They have a connection that seems to mirror his own with his horse. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

“Captain!” Benny calls out.

Dean grimaces, but he stays quiet. He turns to the woman and holds a finger over his lips. She stares back at him in apprehension. He begins to creep slowly around the hill, but she grabs onto his wrist. For a second, she looks just as surprised as him by the reflexive action. Then, she shakes her head at him.

Don’t go out there, her eyes say.

Dean smiles, and he gives her a reassuring wink. He gently removes her hand and gestures at her to stay where she is. He army crawls up the side of the hill. It gives him a vantage point to watch his men, who approach just a few feet down below. 

“Captain Winchester!” Cas calls next.

“We don’t want to have to come and get you, Dean. Come on,” Benny says. He does sound reluctant, for his part. His voice grows more somber when he says, “Colonel’s given us orders to bring you and the girl back…dead or alive.”

Dean knows the position he’s put his own men in. He doesn’t blame them for following the Colonel’s orders. He just hopes they can forgive him for what he’s about to do.

He leaps off the edge of the hill with a yell and brings Benny with him to the ground. He sweeps Cas’s legs out from underneath him, then tosses a punch that lands on the corner of Benny’s chin. He kicks Benny’s gun away, and wrestles Cas until his pistol falls from his hand. The three men scrap and trade blows, until Dean is the only one left standing. His men are groaning on the dusty ground, slowly picking themselves up.

Dean’s heaving for breath as well as he leans back against the side of the hill. Despite that momentary victory, he knows what they all know: that this fight isn’t going to end until either they’re dead, or he’s dead.

“Where’s the girl, Dean?” Benny says. He implores him to see sense. “We take her back with us, we can smooth all this over with the Colonel. All of it, even Roman.” 

Dean lets out a deep breath, but he shakes his head.

“Can’t do that, Benny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a question circling in his friend’s eyes, but after a beat, Benny seems to know the answer to it. He picks up his gun from the ground. Just like Dean once did, the Lieutenant now has a choice to make.

He shares a heavy look with Cas. The two of them nod, before they focus back on Dean.

Benny’s hand falls, and he stows his gun.

“You died today,” Benny says. “We found your body somewhere in the canyon. Your horse too.”

Dean nods, with something of a smile. He supposes faking his death is the only option now. He rips the badge off his uniform jacket and tosses it to Benny.

“There’s your proof,” he says.

Dean shares a grim nod of respect with Cas while Benny examines the torn patch denoting a captain’s rank.

“Take care of each other,” Dean says.

Benny’s head raises, and he meets Dean with a somber gaze.

“Goodbye, brother.”

Dean doesn’t return to her until the men are out of sight through the trees. She’s still hiding along with the resting horses, waiting for him. That alone surprises him. It would bring a small smile to his face, if the weight of that goodbye didn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.

He reaches out a hand for her. It takes her a moment to consider it, but she accepts his offer.

He helps her to her feet, after which, she quickly pulls her hand back. She’s wary of his touch, her face guarded when she looks up at him. Dean supposes he can’t blame her, even if it does strike a nerve. After what he just did for her…

His face becomes stoic, and he turns away to grab his hat from the dusty ground. “We should probably head out.”

She nods and calls to her horse to encourage him to his feet. Despite himself, Dean can't help but be curious. How did this girl manage to tame that wild beast?

“Does he have a name?” he asks.

“Mato,” she replies.

“Mato,” Dean echoes. “Does that mean something? You know, in your language.”

She eyes him wryly, brushing her hand over Mato’s hide.

“It means angry, like a bear,” she says.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good name.”

He remembers his bruised side (and ego) from when the mustang threw him off his back.

Dean watches her with another realization as she gracefully mounts the horse. Baby has gotten up to her feet as well, already nudging the back of his arm with her snout. He rubs her nose in affection.

Then he turns to climb up onto her back, settling his feet into the stirrups and loosely grabbing the reins. He follows his companion’s lead farther into the forest, but he guides his horse to fall into step beside hers.

“Will you tell me your name now?” he asks. “Think we’ve been through enough together at this point, don’t you think?”

She considers it with a tilt of her head. She looks over at him with a small smile.

“Kimmímila,” she says. The syllables roll off her tongue effortlessly.

Dean raises his brows. “Kim…Kimmeela.”

She shakes her head at him, her lips pursing.

“Kimmímila.”

Lord help him, but he tries his best. His brows furrow.

“Kim…mila,” he attempts. She guides Mato closer and grabs Dean by his cheeks with one hand.

“Kimmí.”

“Kimmí,” he repeats with his cheeks squished. His face is starting to warm up, and not altogether in embarrassment.

“Mila,” she says with a nod.

“Mila,” Dean says. “Kimmímila.”

He’s treated to her smile, warm and true. She releases him, her gaze flitting over his face. Then she keeps riding. Dean grins to himself.

“Think I’m gonna call you Mila,” he says. Make it easier on myself.

She even laughs, a honeyed sound. “Yes, my father does too.”

“What does it mean? Your name.”

“In your language?” she says, in a tone that teases him back. She becomes thoughtful as she searches for the word. “It means…butterfly.”

“Really?” Dean remarks. She doesn’t strike him as a butterfly.

More like a lioness, he thinks, only somewhat holding back his grin.

She gives him some side-eye, despite her amusement.

“You think it does not suit me,” she observes.

“Well, I didn't say that—”

“I don’t think so either,” she admits. “There are many things that don’t suit me.”

Dean chuckles. He can imagine that.

“But my mother had a dream before I was born,” Mila says. “She saw beautiful wings, and said I would have a free mind. When I grew, and wanted to spend my days with horses more than cooking and sewing things, she didn’t call me free. She called me stubborn.” Her face begins to fall. “Maybe too stubborn.”

Dean offers her a rueful, sympathetic look. “Yeah, I get it. My brother always said I was damn hardheaded,” he says. “…Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought, huh?”

Mila’s smile returns, however slightly.

“You have a brother?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s more needed back home,” Dean replies.

Damn. He really does miss his bookish little brother.

He explains to her about his family, his brother and mother who still live in Lawrence, and how he joined the army, in part to honor his father.

“What happened to him?” she asks.

“He died…in some cornfield near Sharpsburg, Maryland, fighting the Confederacy,��� he replies, heaving a breath.

"Con...federacy?" she questions.

"The South," Dean explains. "See, most of our southern states thought they should be their own country, letting slaves plow their fields and mind their kids. I may have lived on a farm, but my father always paid his workers. He fought for the Union."

"So you fought among yourselves, over land that did not belong to you," Mila points out.

Dean falls silent. After a little while, he concedes her point with an incline of his head.

"Fair enough," he says, glancing over at her. “I think my dad thought the fighting would end with the war, but, uh...it never really ends, does it?”

Her expression of curiosity fades, turning more solemn.

“No,” she agrees. “…I am sorry for your father.”

Dean's a little surprised to hear that from her, but he nods his thanks. They continue to talk as the sun begins to set in the west. When it dips behind the canyon, they stop to make camp for the night, and he helps her catch a rabbit to roast on the fire they build together.

That night over the meal, she slowly opens up to him. He learns that she’s an only child, though she has a sibling-like bond with her older cousin, Šóta. She spends most of her days planting or harvesting their crops, depending on the season, as well as sewing, painting, helping the elders of her tribe with tasks, and helping her mother and aunt cook.

When the rabbit is gone, she unbinds her long, thick hair and untangles it while she speaks. She explains that the Lakota are just one of many tribes. There are six other bands of Sioux who live in this region. Along with the Dakota and the Nakota, they are the “Seven Council Fires” who have made the Great Plains their home for generations.

She tells him about the way her tribe lives, caring for one another, giving the land back as much as they take, and letting it rest. The men hunt and protect the village from the outside, but the women protect the inside, their way of life.

Most of all, Mila tells him, she loves caring for the horses. She goes out and rides whenever she can duck out of her mother’s watchful eye.

Dean enjoys listening to her stories. He likes what he learns about her, but also, he just likes the sound of her voice, smooth and steady, almost calming. He thinks she might like the sound of his too, the way she’s smiled at him, laughed with him, glanced at him when she thinks he’s not looking.

She still picks a spot as far away from him as she can to sleep though. She keeps the fire pit in between them. He even catches sight of her knife, hidden in the hand she tucks underneath her cheek. Evidently, she doesn’t fully trust him just yet.

It annoys him at first, considering how many times he’s saved her already. How much he’s sacrificed just to get them this far…

Until he remembers how they met. He remembers the disdain and anger in her brown eyes, then the mistrust, and the fear hidden underneath. He thinks of every experience she’s likely had so far with the U.S. Military, and anyone else who looks like him.

Dean settles down on the ground and stares up at the innumerable stars in a raven sky. He’s exhausted, but his thoughts don’t let him rest for a while. 

At the very least, the way she looks at him now is softer than that first day.

In the morning, Mila watches the strange man wake.

He blinks and rubs his bleary eyes, yawning, groaning at the sun’s brightness like a child. She hides her smile by bowing her head over the apple she’s cutting with her knife. The orchards span wide across the forest, and soon he’ll find two yellow-red apples beside his head.

His brows raise at them, then he looks up at Mila sitting with her legs crossed behind the small fire pit. The wood there is just ash and blackened remains now, but it still carries the smell of burning.

“Morning,” he greets.

She nods back at him and pretends not to watch when he sits up with a groan, stretching and bending his arms high behind his head. He removed his uniform jacket to sleep. It allows her to see every dip of male muscle that his plain white shirt clings to, even in the long sleeves.

Her gaze furtively runs over the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, then back up to his half-bearded face, defined by a strong jaw and dark brows. The sun catches on his brown hair and teases the ends of it golden.

She would never admit it, but he���s not unpleasant to look at. 

Last night, she declined his offer to travel with her until she reaches her tribe safely, but he was insistent. Again, strange.

So here she is, with him. Here they are. 

Dean turns to see the horses grazing nearby. Mato no longer has the saddle and bridle his men put on him. He looks rested and at ease. He even whinnies at Baby, tossing his head a little. She answers him and flicks her tail. They continue eating together.

Dean smiles, then grabs an apple. He raises it to her in thanks before he takes a large bite. Its juices run down the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. Mila can’t help but be drawn to the sight.

She tears her eyes away when he looks over at her.

“We have a long way to go. Three days, if the weather is good,” she says, continuing to carve pieces of her apple to eat. “We will know we are close when we reach the river.”

Dean nods in understanding. With a grunt, he gets to his feet and takes another bite out of his breakfast. She doesn’t expect the way he approaches her with a hand outstretched. She looks up at it, then at his expectant face.

“Come on. Let’s hit the road then,” he says.

Mila considers his offer for another moment. He seems to be making this a habit. Amused, she wonders if this is just kindness, or if the women of his people aren’t allowed to stand without a man’s help.

She pockets her knife, swipes her braided hair over her shoulder, and slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. When she gets there, he’s closer than he should be.

A breath gets trapped in her throat as she once again looks between his warm hand closed over her smaller one, and his face. In the small space between them, there is a different kind of tension than before. Mila can’t tell what the man is thinking when he looks at her like that, but she doesn’t like it.

And at the same time, she does.

She takes back her hand, and she goes to the horses. She firmly ignores how her heart gallops, even as she rubs at her chest like it’s an ache that can be soothed.

She doesn’t hear Dean’s unsteady breath, nor does she see the way his green eyes follow her.

AN: *rubs hands together* Well, here they are! It's all starting to come together. What did you think of Dean's decision?

Coming up next, we have the final part: some action, some fluff, and some potentially perilous situations for Mila and Dean...

Next Time:

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

COMING 11/17! (New chapters every Sunday.)

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[cold-bloodedhero-mafuyu]

THE PEOPLE HAVE DECIDED... THE WINNER IS ; SHINING STAR AU

Don't worry the other AUs will get another chance in the future after we finish the superhero AU (if it has an ending of course but it'd be fun if it didn't ehe) and Shining Star ! Here's a little summary for each AU (including winning AU) ; Fates Intertwined - An AU where SEKAI didn't exist and everything happened naturally... Sort of like a slowburn? esque Alternate universe, It's a bit fleshed out but I'm still working on everything. To keep it simple, this AU is basically where each character isn't going through so much trauma and instead knows how to deal with that trauma that happened in canon with the help of the people they know and cherish, let's take An or Mizuki for example... When An found out about Nagi's death she still did feel sad (and guilty for not being able to say goodbye) and "traumatized" but VBS, instead of checking up on her once actually comforts her, like a lot (including Akito) and encouraged her to keep fighting for what she wants to achieve and keep on reaching for that shared dream. Basically reassuring her (she also has less attachment and abandonment issues... Kanamod and Modshishi knows like almost everything about this AU), while Mizuki despite having to go through Mizu5 again faces Ena this time, not running away or isolating, actually facing Ena. And Ena in return wanted Mizuki to tell her the secret herself because she didn't want to believe in people she doesn't know well, especially if the people were transphobic. uh yeah basically Project Sekai AU ; Everyone's untraumatized (THIS IS SO LONG I'M SO SORRY) Daydreams ; Actually one of my least doomed AUs, it's basically where Minori, An, Mizuki, Mafuyu, Saki, Ichika and Emu daydreams a lot... indulging in a world full of lies, living a life full of lies thinking everything is still the same. Because you see in this AU every unit disbanded because of a big issue they had. For More More Jump! They had a disagreement, Shizuku and Haruka were mostly the ones arguing but Airi also joined in to defend Shizuku... Minori witnessed all of this and basically after hearing Haruka say "I WISH I NEVER WENT ON THE ROOFTOP AND MET YOU ALL!" Minori's head basically clicked, memories flashed before her and she basically hyperventilated and ran away. Haruka realized what she'd done but it was too late, so Airi and Shizuku left. Shizuku isolated herself, Airi tries to keep in touch and well let's just say Minori's depressed and keeps daydreaming which really makes her mentally unhealthy. Haruka knows of Minori's state but she's too scared to do or say anything, she thinks it's all her fault and well you can figure out the rest here haha I just used MMJ as an example since that's the one I first worked on. part 2 will be posted hold on

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 6)

eren/reader

Rating: M

2020s reincarnation of marleyan nurse reader & undercover eren

4k words

also on Ao3

<- chapter 5

*A Warm Living Room*

Jean resented the word “babysitting”.

Connie said: “I mean that’s basically what it is though, right?”

And Sasha- well… actually Sasha didn’t really say much of anything. Her face was too full of french fries when Eren asked them to do it.

Regardless of their feelings on the matter, after Eren called them to cash in a favor they all end up there:

Alone. In your apartment. With only you because Eren was running out of excuses to give his boss and he was going to get his ass fired if he called in sick one more time.

“Don’t stress too much about it,” Armin had told him on the phone the night before. “If anything, getting back into your old routine might help her remember things.”

“Yeah but… I still feel weird leaving her alone. What if something happens?”

There was a muffled sound from the other side of the phone before Armin was back: “Jean said he could come over and keep an eye on her.”

Eren could barely make out Jean’s defiant: “I DID NOT!” from the other end of the phone.

“Oh, and he just told me Connie and Sasha could help too!” Armin added.

Jean awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I feel like a phone call would have worked fine…” he mumbled. Jean knew you were his friend, a version of you anyway, but that version was tucked away in your subconscious with the current version leaving a lot to be desired.

Especially with how you were staring at him.

“What?” Jean’s glare caused you to jump before looking back to your lap.

‘Good riddance,’ he thought as a proud smirk spread across his face.

“Play nice,” Sasha ordered, slapping him on the back of the head as she crawled over the back of the couch to join the two of you in the living room. “Soooooo…” she started.“What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to read,” you answered.

Connie snorted. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he mumbled.

Your head tilted curiously to the side as you looked at him. Obvious confusion was plastered across your face.

Connie was only half paying attention to what was going on, slumped in the loveseat and more absorbed in his phone game than anything. At least, until he realized what he had said and his eyebrows rose. He immediately sat up straight, his phone falling to his lap. “Sorry! Normally you’d- uh call me a dumbass back or- um-...”

Your eyebrows tightened together. “Mr. Kruger said we were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“But… I’m mean to you?”

“That’s-... oh boy…” Connie sighed. “You really are different.”

You scowled into your lap. “...everyone keeps saying that…” 

“ ‘s not a bad thing that you’re normally different,” Jean mumbled. “The old you seems kinda...” he vaguely waved his hand as if you were supposed to know what he was saying.

And you supposed you did: “Marleyan?” you finished for him.

“Woah there!” Sasha quickly jumped in. “You being Marleyan doesn’t have anything to do with it! My fiancé is Marleyan and I’m Eldian or at least- we used to be. Technically Marley and Eldia don’t really exist here but-”

“You’re engaged to a Marleyan!?” you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.

“Uh-... yeah,” Sasha answered, “have been for a while. We’re doing that whole ‘long-term engagement’ thing.”

“And you tell people that?”

“I mean I do,” Sasha said. “Nico’s kinda embarrassed about the fact that the economy is in shambles and it’ll be a while before we can afford a wed-”

“No not about that!” you interrupted, “about… about you being in love!”

“Huh?” Sasha seemed confused. “Oh- yeah! Yeah, we tell everyone.”

“It’s kinda gross, actually,” Connie said.

“You’re just jealous,” Sasha stuck out her tongue.

“Ew gross! If anything I feel sorry for Niccolo having to kiss your burger breath all the time.”

“Hmm… bold of you to assume he doesn’t have a food kink.”

Connie threw his head back with a loud laugh. “Oh my god he totally has a food kink!” he clutched his stomach through his laughter, almost falling out of his chair as he did so. “Sash, you're nasty! Is he into that feeder thing too!?”

“Even if he was I-”

“Guys please shut up,” Jean cut them off. “You’re traumatizing her.”

Connie and Sasha looked over at you. You’d gotten quiet (which would have been weird under normal circumstances, but they were starting to realize that silence was pretty typical for your old self). 

“No I-” you stuttered, “sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Sasha asked. 

“I-” your cheeks flushed pink. “Wh- Where I’m from an Eldian and Marlyan can’t-... a-and even if they did they would… well…”

“We know,” Jean told you. For the first time, there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Like a part of him cared about you. Or at least some version of you. 

Of course, that concern was quickly washed away as your eyes met his and he went back to scowling.

You looked back at Sasha and Connie (they were a lot nicer). “Well if you know that then maybe you also know that I-... I um…” Your cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “I’ve never said it out loud before but-...”

You squirmed against your seat, suddenly unsure if you should keep your hands in your lap. No, the armrests! No wait next to you! No, that looked awkward!! 

“I think she’s gonna hurt herself,” Connie whispered to Sasha.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s about to have an aneurism,” Sasha mumbled back just in time for you to blurt it out:

“I-I’m in love with Mr. Kruger!!”

Your cheeks burned deep crimson as you clenched your hands in your lap, tightly gripping your skirt while your shoulders trembled. 

You couldn’t believe you had just admitted it! You’d said it, out loud, to someone that wasn’t him!! This place was so amazing, if you were allowed to admit that then you really, truly never wanted to leave!

Jean sighed. “Yeah everyone fucking knows that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “E-Even Mr. Kruger!?”

“Oh my god...” Jean rubbed his hands over his face with a loud groan. “Yes. Mr. Kruger,” he said in a mocking tone, “is very very aware that you’re hot for him.”

“A-And… how does he um-... how does he feel about… me?”

Jean groaned again as he leaned back in his chair.

You turned your attention to Sasha and Connie instead, eyes begging them for reassurance. 

Instead of offering you any, they both held back their laughter:

“...this is so fucking priceless...” Connie snickered.

“...wish I had this on camera…” Sasha agreed.

You scowled as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t get what’s so funny about someone having feelings for another person! No one was laughing at you when you were talking about your- your- your feeder kink fiancé!!!”

Whatever that meant (and honestly you had no idea) it must have been pretty funny because Connie started laughing so hard that he fell out of his chair. Sasha clutched her stomach yelling “My abs! My abs stop! They hurt!!” Even Jean, who seemed to hate your guts, let out a loud bark of a laugh. 

You still weren’t sure what you said, but you knew their reactions.

Part of you did, anyway.

And that same part encouraged you to join in on their, strangely familiar, laughter.

So you did.

You laughed with them. You laughed with your friends over a joke you didn’t really understand.

You’d never laughed like that before.

*An Office Downtown*

Eren was pulled from his computer screen daze as Armin placed a coffee on his desk.

“You’ve been glaring at your computer all day,” his best friend pointed out.

“Sorry,” Eren sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just catching up on emails. Buncha bullshit piled up.”

“Then how about you actually take your lunch today and give yourself a break?” Armin asked. Eren was notorious for getting sucked into something and forgetting to eat, which is why he’d spent the entire morning in complete silence glued to his computer. Thankfully, working at the same company as his best friend meant that he normally had someone looking out for him.

Eren glanced back at his monitor and a half-written email stared back at him. Then he looked down at the coffee Armin had brought over.

He reached for it. “A break sounds good.”

They ended up circling the small park next to their office building, enjoying the sunshine while it lasted before sitting down by the fountain in the middle of the park where they usually ate lunch together (on the days Eren remembered to do so, of course). 

It didn’t take Armin long to get to the elephant in the room:

“Still no luck getting her to remember?” he asked.

Eren sighed, knowing that this question was coming. “Nothing,” he answered, immediately running his fingers through his hair. “It’s been a week and she hasn’t remembered a single thing. What if she never does? What do we do if she’s just stuck like this and-”

“Eren, don’t worry about it,” Armin cut him off, “sometimes it takes a little longer.”

“But a full week?”

“Yeah. That’s not unheard of,” Armin shrugged.

Eren let out a short sigh as he picked at the lid of his empty coffee cup. The past week had been… rough, to say the least.

He’d kept trying to maintain an air of normalcy, but that was growing increasingly more difficult every time you looked up at him in wide-eyed amazement over something in the modern world, or smiled at him like he’d hung the fucking moon, or every single time you called him Mr. Kruger.

It was never Eren.

Always Mr. Kruger.

And every time you said it, it felt like a punch in the gut.

“Eren?” Armin asked, sensing his best friend’s apprehension. 

“I just-” Eren dropped his hands with a sign. “I just miss her so fucking much,” he said, “she’s right next to me but it’s not her and I-...” he drifted off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“I know, Eren. We all get it. It’s hard waiting for things to go back to the way they were.”

Eren scoffed. “It’s not going to though.”

“Of course it will.”

Eren didn’t reply. Instead, he stared down at his coffee cup and ran his thumb against the light brown stain on the white lid.

“This is how it always happens,” Armin said. “Every time someone wakes up it’s hard for a few days, but once their minds catch up with them things have a way of working out.”

“‘Working out’ and going ‘back to the way it was’ are two different things,” Eren pointed out.

“I-- yeah,” Armin sighed, “you’re right, but sometimes ‘working out’ is better. Don’t you think?” 

Eren’s hold on his cup tightened, causing the thin paper to crinkle as the lid almost popped off.

Armin continued: “Remembering everything that happened back then made all of us cherish this life so much more. All the bad stuff from the past doesn’t-”

“Don’t you dare tell me it doesn’t matter, Armin!” Eren exclaimed as the lid to his coffee popped off and fell to the pavement below them.

Armin remained silent at his friend’s outburst.

“I’m sorry but it just-- it can’t not matter,” Eren said. “Just because we’ve been given a chance to try again doesn’t mean that what we did before doesn’t count for anything!”

A silence hung over them again.

Eren stared down at his empty cup. He noted how light it felt, the way it crinkled against his hold. The way it felt to dig his nails into the white paper.

A paper cup with coffee stains.

A paper cup with three pills.The green one discreetly slipped into a pocket before anyone could notice.

Armin captured Eren’s attention with the soft calling of his name:

“Eren?”

Eren was scared to look up, so he didn't.

“Who was she?” Armin asked.

It was the question Eren had been avoiding. The same question he couldn’t answer. Not to the rest of his friends. Not to Armin.

Not to you.

“Whatever happened to the two of you in your first lives,” Armin told him, “no matter how- no matter how terrible it was, this is our chance to try again. Everyone who’s woken up understands that.” Armin reached out to place his hand on Eren’s, giving it a soft squeeze. “...and she will too.”

Eren pulled away. He tossed the coffee cup into the trash can and shoved his hands into his pockets.

He didn't want Armin to feel the way they trembled.

The way they shook.

The way his fingers twitched with nervous hesitation as Armin’s words repeated in his head.

But more importantly, he didn't want to look at them for himself.

At his hands.

Eren wanted to cut them clean off, even now that he couldn’t regenerate. Especially now that he couldn’t regenerate.

He wanted to cut them off and make them pay for their crimes.

*A Warm Living Room*

Pandemonium had broken out in the time Eren had been gone, and that fact became immediately obvious as he stepped back into his apartment.

“Connie if you don't fucking back me up here I'm going to chop your balls off in your sleep!!!” 

“Fuck you, Jean! What do you want me to do!? It's completely chance!”

“It is not chance!! It depends on when you push the button!”

“NO IT DOES FUCKING NOT!!”

“Okay then push it now! Push it right fucking now I dare you! You won't do it because it's not completely cha-”

“Oh look I won!” The third voice wasn't Connie, Jean, or even Sasha.

The third voice was you.

Everyone burst out into excited screams:

“HOLY SHIT!!! HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN!!” Sasha exclaimed. 

“IT'S NOT CHANCE I TOLD YOU IT'S NOT FUCKING CHANCE!!!” Jean shouted, immediately followed by Connie’s loud:

“FUCK MY ASS OFF DUDE HOW ARE YOU STILL THE MARIO PARTY CHAMPION!?!?”

Eren tucked his shoes into the closet and Bitcoin stumbled out of the living room. He hobbled over to his dad and rubbed against Eren's leg before he began loudly meowing for his dinner. Eren leaned down to pick him up and walked into the living room, towards the commotion.

“Guys we have neighbours you know,” he sighed, “can you please keep it down?”

Everyone looked over at him as he entered the room. 

Jean and Sasha were on the couch as Connie took up the loveseat. Despite how there was more than enough room for you to sit on the couch too, you were in front of the coffee table, much too close to the TV for it to be doing anything good to your eyes.

You clutched your GameCube controller in one hand as you smiled at him. “Look Mr. Kruger, I won!” You told him, pointing at the TV where Princess Daisy stood in front of the flashing lights and banner that declared:

You are the DREAM STAR!!

Apparently god given Mario Party 5 skills trumped even reincarnation.

Who knew?

Eren chuckled with a smile. “Good job ba-” he stopped himself before the pet name came out. “Good uh-” he cleared his throat, “good job.”

You smiled.

His stomach flipped, just like it always did.

*A Cozy Bedroom*

“Connie and Sasha told me something,” you told Mr. Kruger that night as you crawled into bed.

Mr. Kruger always came to make sure you were all set before falling asleep. He’d turn the lights off for you, check that the cats were comfortable (although the old brown one was the only one that would actually stay in the bedroom overnight) and then he’d tell you goodnight before leaving.

It was the exact opposite of the real world, but given the way everything else in this somewhere nice was the opposite, you figured it made sense. 

“What did they tell you?” Mr. Kruger asked, placing a glass of water on your bedside table, just like he did every night.

“They said um-...” You looked down at your hands, curling the blanket in your lap against your fingers. “They said that Eldians and Marleyans didn’t really exist here.”

“They don’t,” Mr. Kruger confirmed as he sat down on the end of the bed.

“Sasha also told me that she has a fiancé who’s Marleyan.”

“She does.”

Eren watched you stare down at your lap as you avoided his eyes. He noticed your cheeks turn pink in a way he’d never seen on this version of you. 

The old you.

The old you had two modes, and he’d gotten familiar with them after the months he spent with you in Liberio. You were either spaced out, completely gone as your body moved in robot mode to complete whatever task needed to be done, or you were fake.

Smiling.

Cheery.

Putting up a performance that, in the past, made his blood boil to watch.

Right now though- with your slightly flushed cheeks, the subtle smile that slowly spread across your face, and the way you eventually looked up at him- right now you looked like the version he was used to.

The version he met here. The version he fell in love with without any memory of what had happened in the past.

Who he’d been in the past.

“Is that allowed here then?” you asked, making Eren’s heart feel like it might beat right out of his chest.

Eren cleared his throat. “I--Is what allowed here?”

Your reply came out after a moment of hesitation. Softly, as if you were nervous about how he would answer: “Are an Eldian and Marleyan allowed to be together…?”

Suddenly, the two of you were in dangerous territory.

Suddenly the same feeling of impending doom washed over Eren, just like it had when Armin asked: ‘who was she?’

It was all he could see. It was all he could feel-

The grinding of stone. Fire. Screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body lifeless against the battered streets.

At some point, he’d sat down on the bed.

At some point, you’d leaned closer.

At some point, you’d looked back down at your lap. Down at your hands before you took a short breath.

Before your hand slid across the covers and hesitated, just a fraction of a centimetre from his.

It was all so familiar but so different at the same time.

The way you paused. The way the bed dipped between the two of you. The way Eren could feel the warmth radiating from your fingers, even though they weren’t touching his.

But the sheets below you were dark green, not white, and the walls were covered in framed photos, not completely bare.

So it was different, and he tried so hard to focus on how it was different but---

But it all felt so familiar. 

So familiar that he got lost in it for a moment. So familiar that when your hand finally moved closer to his, brushing so gently against his pinky finger- Eren jumped.

“Is…” you whispered, “...is this allowed?”

Your finger brushed against his, just your finger, so hesitantly that you could easily have pretended it hadn't happened if you wanted to.

But Eren didn’t want to pretend it hadn’t happened. The moment you touched him finally actually touched him, lit a fire in the pit of his stomach as his heart pounded.

“It’s-- It’s allowed…” he slowly answered, so softly that if there had been any other noise in the room at all you might have missed it.

His finger hooked against yours, body moving completely on its own as if it was instinct.

And it was.

At this point, it was instinct.

Eren could hear his heart beating in his ears at the simple sensation of your finger pressed against his. He’d touched you so many times (you’d been dating for six years, so obviously he had) but it had never felt like this.

It had never felt so intense…

He didn't know at what point your fingers had curled together.

He had no idea how long it took until he looked over at you.

And he surely couldn't recall when you'd looked back at him, but all of a sudden you had.

All of a sudden the two of you were sitting there in that bed with that wall and your hand in his.

And it was just like Liberio.

“Don't go tonight,” he'd said as his fingers curled, for the first time, around yours. You were touching him. Not to change a bandage, or give him his medicine, or check his heart rate. You were touching him all on your own for the first time.

“Why wouldn't I go to the festival?” You laughed with a smile. A smile so wide and genuine that Eren wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. “It sounds fun.”

“Please,” Eren begged. Before he could stop himself, he'd lifted his hand to cup your cheek.

He was touching you. He was touching you and not because you were changing his shirt, or passing him a tart, or helping him hobble across his hospital room. He was touching you all on his own.

His thumb brushed against your cheek. Your warm cheek, as the image of your bloody body, discarded against the cobblestone, flashed through his mind.

No. No no no no no please no.

“Mr. Kruger I-”

You were just as close right now as you had been then. Looking up at him with the same eyes, the warmth of your palm against him in the same way.

Except it wasn't the same, right? It was different now.

He was different now. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

In a different life under different circumstances with a different path in front of him.

You were safe here, finally, where there wasn’t fire or rubble or cobblestone. Here, where nothing bad could happen to you.

Eren's hand cupped your cheek and the two of you moved closer. It was warmer here. It was better.

He was better. He was Eren, not Mr. Kruger.

“Is… Is this allowed...” your breath ghosted across his lips as you asked it again.

Eren's eyes slid closed as he nodded. He leaned in, craving your kiss so badly that it almost hur-

“...Mr. Kruger?” 

Until you finished your sentence and Eren’s world completely shattered. 

Mr. Kruger.

Right.

That’s who he was to you right now. He wasn’t Eren, he was Mr. Kruger.

“She’ll do it.” “Oh good, your dog can do more than just fetch.”

“She's distracting you, Eren.” “No, she's not.”

“Then kill her.”

Eren’s palms grew damp with nervous sweat. His stomach turned. His heartbeat rang in his ears, this time for a different reason entirely.

Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger Mr. Kruger

That’s who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

Eren pulled away from you, trying not to watch your heartbroken expression as he pushed out of bed. “H-Have a good night,” he stuttered before he left the room.

He didn’t turn back to look at you. He couldn’t.

He was worried that if he did, all he’d see would be-

Fire and screaming. The roar of his titan. The zipping of lines. And a body-  your body -lifeless against the battered streets.

Eren didn’t want to look back because if he did, he’d remember who he was to you.

Mr. Kruger

The man who had manipulated you into loving him.

*Libero* 854

“Good morning Mr. Kruger!” Three days into his undercover mission and it had quickly become one of his least favourite sounds. 

Eren groaned as he sat up.

Headache. Pills. Wate-

“I snuck you an extra apple,” you told him with a wide smile, holding up the crisp red fruit just for him. He wanted to deny it and tell you he didn’t need your pity, but his rumbling stomach betrayed him and he reached for the apple anyway.

You laughed. “Don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favourites.”

Juice dribbled down his chin as he bit into the apple.

He looked over at you as he chewed.

It was a good apple.

Crisp. Fresh. Sweet.

It was a good apple.

And the way your eyes light up- with so much hope and joy, like a dog waiting to be praised- it was-

It was pathetic.

Pathetic how eager you were to please.

…he could use that…

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[fangirlwriting-stories]

Calling High Fives Something Else

Summary: Relativity/Reunion Falls AU, Hijinks occur during a trip to Gravity Falls' pool.

Masterlist

...

Ford blames Bud Gleeful.  Mostly because it’s entirely his fault.

He totally understands Stan and Grauntie Mabel’s desire to go to the pool.  It’s too hot to think today.  But his whole “spend the entire summer wearing big gloves with two fingers shoved in the pinkie finger part” plan doesn’t really work if said gloves get wet.

So, Ford puts on the lightest clothes he brought with him, plus the gloves, and plans on finding a chair as firmly in the shade as he can get and drinking a bottle and a half of water every twenty minutes.

It’s fine.  He lives right next to a beach.  It’s not like he’s starving for swimming experiences.

Stan and Grauntie Mabel seem to think it’s a little weird, but they let it slide, and Ford spends the morning over on a chair with his notebook.  The ones firmly in the shade were taken, but he’s managed to find one partially in the shade, and he’s going over all the entries he’s made so far.

He’s been taking notes on the weird stuff he’s seen so far in Gravity Falls, but he doesn’t really feel like he has a good baseline.  He wishes he’d grown up here like Stanley.  Maybe he could ask him for a guide of some kind.

“Why hello, Stanley.  I thought we’ve established this is my chair.”

Ford looks up, because the voice is close enough that the person is clearly talking to him.

The kid in front of him narrows his eyes.  “You’re not Stanley.”

“Uh, no,” Ford says.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Bud,” the boy says, crossing his arms.  “The rightful owner of this chair.”

Ford blinks at him.  “But I got here first.  I’ve been here a while, actually.”

“That doesn’t matter.  The point is, Stanley and I have an agreement that I get this chair always.”

Ford looks around to see if there’s any other chairs that are more in the shade.  There aren’t.  “Well, I’m not Stanley,” he says slowly.  “You don’t have any kind of deal with me.”

Bud doesn’t seem to like that response.  Instead, he grabs at some necklace wrapped around his neck, and suddenly Ford feels himself climb out of the chair against his will.

“What the—” he starts, but before he can figure out what the heck is going on, he walks three feet forward and jumps into the deep end of the pool.

Ford swims quickly for the surface, and comes face-to-face with Bud, who’s looking over the side of the pool, while staying far enough back that Ford can’t pull him in.

“I told you, that’s my chair,” Bud says, and he walks back across the concrete and sits down in the chair.

Ford stares at him for another second, half stunned at the audacity, and half still trying to figure out how in the world he just made Ford walk over and jump in the pool.  He reaches for the wall to pull himself out, only for his gloves to slip right off the slick surface and send him tumbling back under the water.

When he surfaces again, Ford can hear Bud’s laughter, and his cheeks warm in embarrassment.  He gets his arms over the wall this time and pulls himself out using those instead, though his gloves are wet enough that they almost fall off, and wouldn’t that just be the icing on this cake.

“Can’t swim very well, can you?” Bud calls.

Ford grits his teeth and marches back over to stand right next to Bud.  “I can swim fine,” he snaps.  “Get out of my chair.”

“You’d swim a lot better without those stupid things on,” Bud says with a mocking smile.  He reaches for his necklace again, and wait— no—

But it’s too late, Ford’s moving against his own volition again, and before he can think to try something else, he feels himself pull the gloves off and hurl them back into the pool.

Bud starts laughing behind him, and Ford does the only thing he can think of— he grabs his shirt, bunches it up over his hands, and runs for the locker room.

He finds an empty shower stall, ducks inside it and yanks the curtain closed, and presses his stupid, freakish, six-fingered hands to the side of his head.

Why does he have to be like this?

“Uh, Ford?” comes a now-familiar voice.  “You in here?  I saw you run towards the locker rooms.”

“Go away,” Ford says weakly.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” asks Stanley, and Ford hears him come to a stop outside the stall he’s in.  “You looked kinda freaked when you ran, are you okay?”

“Who’s Bud?” Ford asks instead of answering.  “And why did you make a deal with him about a public pool deck chair?”

Stan groans, loud and irritated.  “I didn’t,” he says.  “Was he being a jerk to you?”

Ford opens his mouth, but before he can answer, Stan pulls aside the shower curtain, and Ford shoves his hands down into his lap.

“Ford,” Stan says, confused.  “You’re all wet.”

“He uh—”

“He pushed you into the pool?” Stan asks, obvious anger entering his eyes.

“No!  Well, kinda?  He had this necklace thing, it was like— I don’t know,” Ford says.  He drops his head onto his knees.  “He made me throw my gloves in the pool,” he says miserably.

“He what?” Stan says, sounding even more angry.  “Those are like, your favorite thing!”

Ford pulls his head up again, looking at Stan in confusion.  “Huh?”

“Dude, I never see you take them off!” Stan exclaims.

Ford looks down again.  “I uh,” he says.  “That’s not—”

“Hang on, I’m going to get them back,” Stan says, and before Ford can protest, he stomps out of the locker room and back towards the pool.

Ford doesn’t know quite what Stan does, but it includes a loud scream from Bud followed by a loud splash, so he has something of an idea.  Regardless, a couple minutes later, Stan shows back up in the stall, sopping wet gloves in hand.

“Here,” he says, and he hands them to Ford.  Ford doesn’t move his hands to take them, though, and after a second Stan just shrugs and sets them on the ground next to him.

“We should probably wash them before you wear them again anyway,” he says.

Ford buries his head in his knees again.

“Sorry dude,” Stan says, patting him on the shoulder.  “Bud’s always like that.”

Ford doesn’t move, and Stan must not know what to do, because after a second he picks up the gloves from the floor and starts ringing them out.  “I think they’ll be okay, though,” he says.  We just gotta wash and dry them again.”

“I don’t care about the stupid gloves, Stanley,” Ford grumbles.  “I— what if he saw?”

“Saw?” Stan asks, sounding confused.

And wow, is Ford not ready for this.  He hadn’t planned on ever needing to be ready for this.  He hadn’t planned on Stan ever learning.

But if Bud did see something, Ford wants to tell Stan himself, before he learns how much of a freak he is from someone else entirely.

So, Ford sniffs, does his best to ignore the panic in his chest, and pulls his hands out from his shirt.  He can’t quite manage to display them to Stanley, instead gripping his shirt’s hem and keeping his gaze firmly on the floor.

“Hey, what’s…” Stan trails off.  Ford waits with dread for the weirded out “um,” the “what’s wrong with your hands”, for Stanley to realize that maybe he actually doesn’t want a weird freak for a brother after all.

Instead, Stan says, “Wait.  There aren’t even enough fingers on these gloves.”

Ford turns to him in bafflement.  “What?”

“Why are they your favorite?” Stan asks, looking back at the gloves like they’re the strange thing about this situation.  “They don’t have enough fingers.”

“You are really stuck on the gloves,” Ford says weakly.

“Well why do you wear them all the time if they’re not—” Stan stops, and gives Ford a look.  “Were you… trying to hide them?”

Ford feels his cheeks warm again, and stuffs his hands back inside his shirt.

“Why?” Stan asks, sounding deeply confused.

“What do you mean why?” Ford asks, probably a bit too much irritation in his tone.  “They’re— they’re weird.”

“Well, yeah,” Stan says, and Ford ducks his head down further.  But then he adds, “What’s wrong with that?”

Ford lifts his head and stares at him.

“Weird things are the coolest,” Stan says, starting to grin.  “Or did you miss the… I don’t know, entire town?”

Ford looks down again and starts fidgeting with his extra fingers.  “That’s different.”

“Uh, no it’s not.  Dude, you’re telling me you’ve got two whole extra fingers and you’ve never told me before because you’re embarrassed?  That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!  I mean, come on, you gotta tell me if you’re this cool!”

“I— what?” Ford asks, feeling thoroughly lost in regards to how this conversation has gone.

“Wait wait wait,” Stan says, his eyes getting big.  “Do you call high fives high sixes?”

“Uh, no?”

Stan gives a little gasp that almost sounds betrayed.  “Why not?” he asks.  “The opportunity is right there!”

“I— I don’t—”

“Well we’re definitely gonna have to fix that right away.  Come on, high six!”  He holds his hand up to Ford, a bright expectant grin on his face.

Ford stares at him for another second, then slowly raises his hand and smacks it against Stan’s own.  “High… six?” he says hesitantly.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Stan says, jumping to his feet.  “Man, it’s a good thing you met me, or you’d just go on never taking advantage of the greatest opportunity ever.”

“Calling high fives something else?”

“Exactly!  I’m so glad we see eye-to-eye on this,” Stan says, nodding in approval.  He looks down at the gloves on the ground again, and something sparks in his eyes.

“Hey, can I actually hang onto these for a bit?” he asks.  “I have an idea.”

And, well, the thought of going without his gloves for longer than absolutely necessary isn’t a fun one.  But Stan’s smiling so big at him, and somehow this hasn’t ended with him being weirded out or disturbed, so maybe going without them for just a little bit longer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

So hesitantly, Ford nods.  And when Stan lights up even more, it makes Ford start to smile too.

…

He does keep his hands tucked inside his sleeves for most of the rest of the day, but Stan must have said something to Grauntie Mabel, because she doesn’t comment at all on them during dinner.

Stan is in the craft shop for most of the evening, and he gives Ford strict instructions not to come in, so Ford spends the evening with Grauntie Mabel, who’s knitting something in her armchair while Ford writes down everything he remembers about Bud’s necklace in his notebook.

Eventually, he moves up to the attic, and it’s here where Stan finally shows up again.

“Okay!” he says, coming to a stop right in front of Ford with his hands behind his back.  “Can I see your hands please?”

Ford still feels a little uncomfortable about holding his hands out in the open, but if earlier was any indication, he doesn’t have to be worried about Stan seeing them.  So he puts them in front of him, and then Stan pulls something out from behind his back.  He’s holding the gloves from earlier, but when he slips one onto Ford’s hand, all six of his fingers find a spot to fit into.

Ford blinks as Stan slips the other one on too, and then steps back with a bright grin.  “Ta da!” he says.  “Custom made gloves!  Now you don’t have to stick two fingers in the pinky spot anymore!”

Ford flexes his fingers slightly, enjoying the way his last two don’t tense up against each other.  He shakes his head, looking back up at Stan.  “How did you do that?”

“Please, you think I can grow up with Grauntie Mabel and not know how to sew?  You’ll probably know some yourself by the time you go home,” Stan says, putting his hands on his hips.

Ford laughs a little.  “I won’t be telling that to Pa,” he says, but he’s smiling.  “I— thanks, Stanley.”

Stan beams at him.  And as he heads back over to his bed, Ford looks down at the gloves.

Maybe Stanley was on to something about them being his favorite.

[stormsthatrage]

Have three (and a half?) ideas/sketches for the very beginning of the Two Idiots and a Temporal Incident Bleach AU. I made Ichigo a girl in this post because I have a deep-seated desire for more female Bleach characters that a) aren't constantly being rescued and b) aren't hyper-sexualized.

Snippet 1:

Two months after she killed Aizen, Ichigo came to the abrupt realization that she was ready to murder again. 

“Grimmjow,” she said, “if you don’t eat that somewhere else, I am going to kill you.”

Grimm lifted his head to look up at her. The rotted arm hanging from his mouth twitched as he ground down, evidently severing some sort of muscle between his teeth. This was unfortunately the last straw for the limb’s integrity; a large chunk of slimy skin sloughed off, landing on the bare dirt with a horrifically wet plop.

Ichigo told herself she was not going to vomit. 

The back of her throat tightened and her mouth filled with saliva.

She was not going to vomit.

Grimm locked eyes with her. Reached out a clawed hand to pick up the goopy chunk. Brought it towards his lips.

Ichigo contorted herself, leaning out over the side of the boulder she was sitting on, and heaved. Breakfast came up — a protein bar — and so did lunch — another protein bar.

Over the sound of her own gags, she heard him say, “And you think I’m disgusting?”

She gagged one last time, gave herself a second to be sure it really was the last time, and then reached out blindly for her sword hilt. Her fingers scrabbled over cold stone and found Zangetsu’s pommel, and then she was leaping down from the rock, fueled by the blood-thirst of someone a little too far past done with another person’s shit.

Grimm laughed as she crashed down on him, his breath powerful enough that she smelled the sound as equally as she heard it — but he had dropped the arm, and now she got to try and beat his face in, so it was a victory even if it was a Pyrrhic one.

Pantera caught Zangetsu’s edge (a brief connection, a split second of perfect understanding: grief pushed down and buried deep; a growing restlessness, born from the pointless question of now what; desperation to pretend the world remained as it was, before the war, before it was all broken, before they two were the last-) and Grimm shoved upward. Ichigo moved with the force of the block, springing backward and landing in a crouch. He grinned at her, more of a baring-of-teeth than a smile, and lunged forward.

And off they went, the two of them, playing pretend in a forest that was shrinking every day, the unraveling of reality itself closing in.

Snippet 2:

The sky was a perpetual, vibrant blue. 

Ichigo hadn’t stopped to ponder the color of the End of Everything before, well, everything ended. But she thinks if she had, she would have expected it to be black.

Black, like nothing. Black, the color of absence. 

But it turns out that the threshold of the apocalypse — where spacetime was being ripped apart, atoms and quarks torn open and destroyed — glowed.

Hat-and-Clogs had explained it before Aizen had killed him. In a twist of cosmic irony, blue was the color of sunny days and also nuclear fission. And so above them burned a spherical shell of brilliant blue, eating its way closer through the fabric of reality.

And beyond the shell, past the threshold? No color at all there, not even black, just a complete nothing.

There was a pun there, about moths and Aizen’s monstrous transformation and the destruction of fabric and possibly an emperor left wearing no clothes. If Renji had been there, he would have made it. Ichigo wasn’t drunk enough to do it for him. 

Spirits, she missed him. She missed them all, with their stupid jokes and annoying — 

“Can you shut up?” Grimm said. “I would, actually, like to fall asleep sometime this year.”

Ichigo stopped staring at the sky to roll over onto her side, squinting through decaying grass to peer at him. “I haven’t said anything?”

“But you were thinking. I know because I could hear you straining.”

Ichigo considered that, and then rolled over twice more, until she was close enough to Grimm to kick him.

Parallel to her in the grass, he tensed, bracing for a strike.

The joke was on him, though, that wasn’t her move. She let out a horrid, caterwauling wail, doing her best approximation of a drunkard trying to perform an aria. In her opinion, she managed the imitation quite well; the sound was positively, excruciatingly awful. 

Grimm launched himself across the remaining ground between them, landing on top of her and desperately trying to muffle the noise leaving her mouth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up - ”

She laid off screeching in favor of employing a technique all siblings learn early in life: licking the hand trying to silence you.

Grimm recoiled, skittering away and frantically wiping his hand on the ground. “I hate you!” he cried.

Ichigo cackled, and he turned his head to stare at her, shoulders hunched and eyes wide, posture all offended-cat. But there was something else in his eyes, too — something a little self-satisfied, maybe.

She huffed. “Go to sleep, moron,” she said, and closed her eyes. 

Snippet 3:

They stood over Aizen’s corpse. Just the sight of it was enough to make Ichigo’s hands shake with a mixture of fear and anger.

Soul King.

They had avoided this place by unspoken agreement, before now. Had wandered through what little forest remained, staying as far away from here as they could without getting too close to the boundary.

After all, why return? All it was was a reminder of how they had failed. How they hadn’t defeated him. Hadn’t killed him until he had already won in every way that mattered.

So, naturally, their return was prompted by nothing less than what Ichigo suspected was the stupidest plan to ever be created, synthesized from pure frustration, a deep lack of comprehension of kido theory, and the complete assurance that whatever they did, they couldn’t make things worse.

“The bastard didn’t even have the decency to rot,” Grimm said.

It was true. Aizen’s body lay there, perfectly preserved by the hogyoku, as the universe decayed around him instead.

“Looking at it makes me want to kill him again, you know?” Grimm added, kicking the side of the corpse. It was not a gentle kick. Something audibly crunched under his toe. “I feel like once just wasn’t enough.”

Ichigo breathed out. Breathed in. “Well,” she said, and her voice was as still and steady as Hat-and-Clogs could teach her, “if this works, we’ll get a second chance. Better make it satisfying, though, because I sure as hell don’t want to do this a third time.”

Grimm’s fangs glinted blue in the light of The End. “Oh, I have no doubt I will enjoy the opportunity immensely.” 

He crouched down and put one hand over the spot Aizen’s heart should have been. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked. “Your gargantas have always been shit, you know, and your kido is worse.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said. “Just do it already.”

And so Grimm unsheathed his claws and plunged his hand into Aizen’s chest. With a series of crunching snaps, a wet sucking sound, and a tide of the stench of iron, he ripped the hogyoku out of Aizen’s chest.

He cradled the tiny ball of divinity between both palms. Ichigo’s hands wrapped tightly around his. The two of them dripped gore and power from their fingers.

Focusing together, with neither array nor incantation, they imagined a clock, spinning backwards, and wished.

The hogyoku glowed, awakening from its sleep.

Blue light turned blinding white.

And everything came undone.

Snippet 3.5ish:

In a shocking turn of fate, the two’s methodology was successful.

But there was one factor — one small but vital factor — that they both forgot.

The type of time travel they embarked on required so much energy because, at its heart, it required undoing. In order to write a different book on pages that have already been printed, the pages must first be erased.

Under normal circumstances, the energy required to do this to a whole universe would be so immense as to be prohibitive. 

With a hogyoku, doing so became possible, but very, very difficult.

Doing so with a hogyoku, with the entirety of the universe already undone, save for few cubic miles?  

Well. The energy for that, dear reader, is peanuts.

And so the two time travelers, who had poured all the energy they could into the hogyoku in the desperate hope of landing far enough back to make a difference, found themselves flung back not two months, not two years, not even two decades, but about two centuries.

… There was, perhaps, a reason, that when everyone was still alive, those two were never put in charge of strategy.

[blobmanwhotries]

SEE, I TOLD YOU I CAN MAKE ART

information below bc trust me y'all probably confused lmao

The character in this drawing is Viktor, a character from the Five Nights at Freddy's Dating Simulator "Five Nights at Flirting." The game is more of the Rebornica style (using Vincent, Chris the Janitor, etc). I highly recommend the game, it's free!

That being said, spoiler warning for that game's content, in case you haven't seen it.

Key:

OG = Original

AU = Alternate Universe

RWQ = RWQFSFASXC, Shadow Bonnie's "Name"

FNaF = Five Nights at Freddy's

FNoF = Five Nights of Flirting

"The Crew" = Day/Nightshift Guards

Viktor is one of the protagonists in the game. Not much information is out there on him, other than him being the father of another more major character, Barbie, and him being dead. He was either a day/nightshift guard or he was the owner of the building, I can't remember.

In FNoF, agony and remnant isn't part of the game. Neither is the OG Afton family. A lot of canon FNAF things is not part of the FNoF universe. If it is, it isn't explicitly said - but in my and my friend's canon, we added a LOT of FNaF lore into it. Doing this gave us the opportunity to build upon the characters and really expand the universe.

In FNoF, I believe Viktor was killed in the Fazbear's establishment. This didn't change.

What did change was the motive and the method. Dave and Jack, the murderers of the children in our canon, killed Viktor by putting him in the spring bonnie suit. Think FNaF 3 Springtrap but on a different guy.

He, alongside the dead children, haunt the building as ghosts. One major thing:

He's not malicious during the nightshift.

(here on out are ideas, headcanons, fanon lore, etc)

Viktor actually just watches. Hangs around. He feels awful for the kids and that he can't do anything to stop their rage - so he usually lingers around the night guard in the office.

I like to think that he kind of has a role on causing the hallucinations in the night guards - more specifically Mike Schmidt (NOT Michael Afton).

Only after the first establishment (FNaF 1) closes down and the crew moves to the next establishment (FNaF 2) can Mike able to see Viktor's ghost properly. He's the first one of the crew to meet him after his death, with the exception of maybe Vincent (who in our original canon, did NOT kill the kids).

Hopefully that makes sense? I might go back and edit this when I'm more coherent but this is what you're getting for now lmao

With that out of the way, let's get into the shadow bonnie thing.

Let's start off with the fact that in the beginning of this, I just wanted to spice things up. I blurted out the idea of Viktor being RWQ to my friend and have been building off of that since.

1) RWQ is never outright malicious. Not in canon games, at least. In FNaF 2, the worst he would do is crash your game. Otherwise he just existed in the office.

Viktor, like RWQ, is not outright malicious. He just watches the security guard in the office. Hoping that they'll make it through the night in peace.

I considered the original "game crash" as maybe the guard passing out from sudden shock - which leads to,

2) In our canon, Viktor slowly becomes a being of agony over time. This is going to be hard to explain.

To sum it up, agony in our canon is the lingering emotions after a major event - emotions that cannot leave and can build up over time.

I think we can agree murder would stir up some very strong emotions from the victims, right?

This explains why the children are so vengeful - because of the agony from their emotions. And, of course, the fact that they're children and aren't able to regulate such powerful emotions, taking it out on any night guard. Blinded by rage, you could say.

Viktor isn't vengeful in comparison only because he can regulate his own emotions better. He knows that the night guards aren't the ones who killed him. He knows who did, but he's trapped at the building since he died there. And because the agony of the dead children latched onto him, making him unable to leave on his own.

Over time, the agony grows more and more potent. Even if he's still passive, the first form you see of him will not be human - it will be the silhouette of what he died in. What he was killed in. A forever reminder of what happened.

I've considered the "fainting" thing because I'd imagine looking to the side and suddenly seeing "bad vibes" personified is going to give someone quite a shock.

3) When coming up with this idea, I didn't make the connection of Viktor being RWQ and the FNaF 3 mini game until way later. When I did, I must say, I pat myself on the back for finding another way to validate and explain my idea. One of the theories for that mini game was that Shadow Bonnie was an employee who got springlocked, probably forcibly. You know who else got springlocked forcibly?

Viktor.

Viktor's death is a HUGE deal in our canon. Who killed him, whether he lives or not, the method - we've considered a lot of outcomes. The most common thing of all of them is the fact that Viktor always plays a role in being a reminder of what happened at Freddy's.

Even after FNaF 3 events, he still remains - only now he's attached to Vincent (who may or may not have killed the children depending on the AU).

My friend and I are super proud of this interpretation of FNoF. We've put a lot of thought into it - and we're nowhere near done with it. A lot is subject to change. But for now we're satisfied.

Sorry for such a long ramble. I'm sure this is barely comprehendible. Feel free to comment or send in questions on anything you want to know more about; other characters, more background information - don't be shy, I don't bite :)