#Will never forgive him for ripping Sunny’s eye out.

[d1sapp01ntm3nt]

i don’t like him

(Alt below)

(Thank you @kai-rio for suggesting him!! I will draw Teto next bc she’s cool and I like her. SynthV fit ofc bc it goes hard)

[lizardboiii]

Breaking up ┃One Piece Pt. 1

Scenario: Having a huge fight with your bf which ultimately leads one of you to saying something you regret.

"I wish I never met you."

Characters: Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro x Fem!reader

cw: 18+, SFW, Angst, Hurt/No comfort, vulgar language

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Monkey D. Luffy

“You never even treat me like we're together!”

You were at your breaking point, figuratively and literally. In the last three months that you and Luffy had been together, not once did he change the way he acted towards you. It felt as if you were still just Luffy’s nakama. Well today that was all going to change. You had a plan.

It took some convincing, but you finally managed to get Nami and Ussop to help you set up a romantic dinner in the Sunny’s crow’s nest. Two of Luffy’s favorite things, food and you. It was perfect.

With preparations taken care of, you waited patiently for Luffy to arrive. Your aforementioned captain was currently exploring the island you were stopped at. But with the sun starting to set, he'd be back for dinner any minute now.

So you waited. 

And waited. 

And waited….

You waited till the candles were near burnt out. Waited till the food went ice cold. Waited till your eyes stung from holding back tears.

Monkey D. Luffy had stood you up.

Your own boyfriend. 

Slamming the napkin delicately placed across your lap onto the table, you pushed yourself to your feet. Humiliation creeped its way up your neck. Never in your life have you ever felt so worthless. 

Holding back hiccups, you dragged yourself out of the crow’s nest and away from the undisturbed meal. What was Nami going to think? All that preparation for nothing. You clenched your hands into tight fists. The next time you see Luffy you swear you were going to-

“y/n!”

You spun on your heel to face the familiar voice. Luffy’s face smiled brightly at you, blinding you more than the moonlight. It was almost enough for you to forgive him. Almost.

“Wait up!”

Scoffing, you glared at his cheery form before turning away from him. All you wanted was a shower, not excuses. 

Luffy caught up with your silently seething form with ease, spinning around you like top. He pranced around as if he were a crow and you his shiny treasure. Your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Try as you might, eventually you gave into his pestering, voice sharp as nails, “What do you want, Luffy?”

Luffy’s grin widened despite your tone, “Sorry I couldn't make it, y/n. There was a festival in town, you should have come. There was an all you can eat buffet, Tra-guy and Jaggy were there too!” He scratched his chin, “Maybe next time you can invite everyone else so we can all eat together again!”

Your eye twitched, “Why would I invite the whole crew to our date?”

“Date?”

You stopped in your tracks, “Yes, date. You know the ones you're supposed to take your girlfriend out on? That kind?”

You could practically see the gears turning in his head at your reply. 

“But I have multiple girlfriends?” “WHAT?”

“Ya! You, Robin, Nami,” Luffy used his fingers to count, “Oh, and Vivi!”

You face palmed, “Not “girl” friends, Luffy. A “girlfriend”. Someone who’s more,” You reached for Luffy’s hand, “Special.”

“But all my friends are special,” Luffy pouted, gingerly returning your touch.

Laughing, you shook your head, “I know. But…It's a different type of special. It's when you wanna hold their hand, and you wanna be near them no matter what,” You met his confused gaze, “It's someone you love.”

“Then why would I wanna do that with you?”

“Huh?”

It felt like your body hit a brick wall. Every word ripped from your throat. He was joking right? It was a sick joke but a joke no less. 

“I don’t think I love you.”

You blinked in confusion before choking out a response, “T-Thats okay. Sometimes it takes a while to realize you love someone. It's not immediate.”

Luffy hummed, “I'm not sure I even want a “girlfriend”, y/n.”

A nervous laughter erupted from your throat, “Luffy, what are you talking about?” It felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“I like how my friends are now. I don't need a “girlfriend”. I have my Nakama. I have you.”

The world suddenly stopped spinning, and only for a moment the ocean quieted and the breeze hushed. Then, as if nothing happened, the world began to turn as normal, leaving behind your hollowed out body.

"...what?"

Cheeky smiled, Luffy repeated his words as if it was only the news, "I don't need a "girlfriend" I have a crew!"

The empty feeling in the pit of your stomach slowly filled with rage. First, he stood you up. Now? Now, he wants to pretend you guys aren't even dating!?

“Luffy, we're dating! What are you talking about? I asked you out almost three months ago!” You snapped, “Why did you even say yes to me if you didn't want a "girlfriend"?” 

“I don't know,” He cocked his head to the side, “I just thought you wanted to be closer friends.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “What?”

Luffy shifted in his sandals, clearly uncomfortable, “I thought you wanted to be my “girl” friend, not my “girlfriend”.”

“Are you joking?” Your skin felt red hot as if your whole being was ablaze, “You thought I wanted to be your “girl” friend!? Did it ever once occur to you that friends don't hold each other’s hands!?”

Luffy quickly retracted his hand from your grip, scratching his head in thought, “Not really.”

“Oh my god,” You couldn't tell if you were laughing or crying at this point, “This whole time you never thought we were together? Ever?!”

“I guess we are a bit closer than everyone else,” Luffy’s brows furrowed in thought.

“A bit?” You ran your fingers through your hair, “We spend every waking moment together! I've confided in you, you've confided with me. You know things about me no one else does!”

To his credit, Luffy looked ashamed, “I’m sorry, y/n. I guess…I just never noticed how you really felt.”

You rolled your tear filled eyes, “Obviously.”

“I can try if you want-”

“Forget it, Luffy,” You held your hands up in defeat, “Just forget it. Whatever you thought was going on here is over.”

Luffy grabbed your arm, “What! I don't want that!”

“You don't seem to want a lot of things,” You shrugged his grip off, “Including me.”

“y/n.”

You wiped your face clear of tears.

“We're done, Lu.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Roronoa Zoro

"Do I need to be a sword just to get a minute of your attention!?"

Three hundred seventy-six, three hundred seventy-seven, three hundred seventy-eight-

“Are you still counting?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, mom.”

Zoro ignored your annoyed response, preferring to continue his push ups below you. Huffing, you rested your chin on your hand. He had been going at this for hours now. You were starting to feel nauseous as your form jostled every time Zoro went up and down with you on his back.

“How much longer?”

Zoro grunted, “When I reach two thousand.”

“Two thousand!?”

Your sudden shout made Zoro shoot up quickly, knocking you off balance. Your criss-crossed form easily flew from Zoro’s back to the ground below. You fell hard, slamming your shoulder into the wood floor. 

Hissing, you rubbed your now sore arm, “What the hell, Zoro!?”

“Shit.”

The moss head was quick to his feet, offering you a hand, “Dammit, you should've been more careful.”

You snatched his extended hand and scoffed, “I wasn't the one who moved so suddenly.”

Pulling you to your feet, Zoro continued to hold your hand, “I wasn't the one complaining so loudly.”

“I can’t help it. We’ve been here all day,” You played with his larger fingers, “Plus, you promised you'd explore the island with me today.”

You could hear Zoro grumble under his breath before sighing loudly, “Training is more important right now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What, why?"

Your thoughts raced around in your head to find a reason for Zoro's sudden uptightness. You were quick to settle on striking golden eyes and a small dagger. Dracule Mihawk. He and Zoro had put on quite the show only weeks ago.

Rubbing Zoro's palm, you quirked a brow, "Are you still hung up about that Mihawk guy beating you?”

“I'm not hung up.”

You flinched at Zoro’s tone, “You clearly are.”

Quickly dropping your hand, Zoro turned away from you, “Listen it doesn't even matter what you think. You wouldn't understand. You're not a swordsman.”

“I'm not a swordsman but I'm definitely your girlfriend,” you snapped at his back.

“Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean you can control my training.”

“Just because you're a swordsman doesn't mean you can just dismiss me.”

The room filled with a silence thick enough to cut with a sword. You thought you might drown on land. Staring into Zoro's rigid back, you tried to manifest any form of response from him.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, Zoro rolled his shoulders and turned to face you. Your breath caught in your throat at his expression. It was dark, almost...menacing. It was a gaze he normally reserved scum marines and enemy pirates alike, but never for you.

“You're the one who's dismissing me!”

A forced laugh erupted from your mouth, “How am I dismissing you, moss head?” You crossed the space between the two of you, “By telling you to take one measly break?”

Zoro’s eyes bore into your own as if trying to find his next words. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his bare chest, “Do you see this?”

You tensed at the feeling of the scar tissue, Mihawk.

“This...this scar is why I have to be stronger. For the crew. For Luffy,” Zoro squeezed your hand, “For you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Zoro, I didn't-”

“Maybe we should break up.”

You paused, mouth stuck open in shock, “...what?”

It felt like you had swallowed glass, pins and needles running down your esophagus into your stomach. But the glass still wasn't enough to fill the large pit beginning to form.

Gently, Zoro pushed your hand away from him, “This relationship,” he took a deep breath, “Might be too much of a distraction.”

You never really understood when people said it felt like their heart was being ripped out of their chest. But now? It felt like your whole chest cavity had been removed. 

Slowly, hot tears began to cascad down your rosied cheeks, “You think I'm a distraction?”

Zoro paused, his internal conflicted evident on his face, “...yes.”

You clenched your teeth together tightly, “Screw you, Zoro! I can barely get you to pay attention to me when someone even mentions the word “sword” but I'm the distraction?!” You jammed a finger into his chest, avoiding his scar, “If you needed an excuse to break up with me so badly you could've at least chosen a good one!”

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Zoro favored staring at the ground, “But if I want to be the greatest swordsman I can't be with you.” His hand captured the one buried in his chest, "Not yet at least."

You ripped your hand away from him, "If not now, then never." Your eyes searched Zoro's, looking for any sign of regret, "Choose, Zoro."

"Its over, y/n," Massive arms pulled you into a warm hug, "I'm sorry."

Clutching onto him, you sobbed silently. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he just have both?

"I love you."

“Fuck you.”

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *.

Requests Open!

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn’t My Middle Name—Chapter Five | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With each day that passed, without knowing whether or not you were okay was driving Daryl insane. He was on the edge of madness. However, when he got the chance to know about your well-being, his heart shattered when he realised what you had been forced to go through. And when chaos began to struck, he feared for your safety even more.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to starving, mentions of torture.

Word Count: 2.8k.

A/N: I powered through this today. My main focus in October is going to be Halloween-related fics, so I wanted to get this up before then. Things are getting a bit more interesting now.

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @holdmytesseract, @secretsicanthideanymore, @remuslittlesister

Drip. A momentary pause.

Another drip. Another slight pause.

Another drip. This one fell faster than the last.

Yet another drip. This one took longer to fall to the floor than any of the rest.

Observing how long it took for the droplets of water to fall down on the harsh, concrete floor was the only thing keeping Daryl from completely losing his mind and tearing his hair out of his head by the roots. Not that he could tear his hair from his head, however. The shackles securing him to the wall prevented him from moving his hands much. Still, with the worry that had taken root in the depths of his stomach, he was sure that he would find a way to rip his hair from his head one way or another if he did not keep his mind occupied with something else.

It had started lightly raining a few hours before. That was probably the only reason why Daryl had not been dragged off to work in the fields that day, like he had been for the past… He did not even know how long. The days seemed to blur together.

One of the guards that had been given the instructions to stand watch outside his cell had brought him food a few hours prior, but the archer had refused to touch the odd looking concoction that sloshed around in the bowl when moved. Even if he wanted to eat, he doubted he would be able to. The worry would prevent him from keeping any sustenance down. The worry for you and your unborn baby.

Daryl sighed and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. He had to swallow back the tears that threatened to form in his eyes at the mere thought of you and what you could be going through. Liam did not seem like a forgiving man, and what you had done, although completely justifiable in Daryl’s eyes, seemed like an action that could be punishable by death in this community.

Daryl did not even want to consider the possibility that you could be dead. His heart would not be able to handle the immense pain that came with diving into that rabbit hole. The guilt would eat him alive. If you were dead, that would mean that he had failed to keep his promise to you; he would never let anything happen to you. If you were dead, he would never be able to live with himself. You were the most precious thing in his life. He could not lose you.

The sudden, loud crack of thunder outside of the dungeon he was in snapped Daryl out of his thoughts with a startle, just in the nick of time as well. The door to his cell opened with a deafening screech, and the archer’s ocean-coloured eyes trailed up to meet those of one of his captors—Lucas Davis, the man responsible for your separation from Daryl. If there had not been chains keeping Daryl’s hands shackled to the wall, the huntsman would have lunged for the man and would have strangled him with his bare hands.

However, the chains rendered him with the inability to do so, so Daryl settled for simply giving the younger Davis brother a death glare, wishing that looks had the ability to kill.

“Aye, good afternoon, champ,” Lucas greeted Daryl merrily, pretending not to notice the absolute hatred that rolled in waves off of the archer at Lucas’ mere presence. The right-hand man of Sunny Meadows entered Daryl’s cell without a care in the world. His boots crunched the gravel of the ground beneath them as he walked towards Daryl, a set of keys dangling from the man’s grasp. He crouched down in front of Daryl, his green-eyed stare meeting the archer’s blue-eyed one. “The big guy wants to see you. Guess it’s your lucky day, finally being able to do something else than work or sit in this cell for two weeks, huh?”

Two weeks? Daryl’s eyes involuntarily widened at those words. Although, the more Daryl thought of it, the more he realised that Lucas’ words could be true. There was one singular window in his cell, and it had been boarded up a while ago, potentially so that the archer could not view the outside world once he was dragged back to his cell. The small amount of light that managed to trickle in through the cracks was not even remotely enough to grant Daryl the ability to differentiate between the rising and setting of the sun, and every day at a certain time while the sun was still in the sky, he would get dragged back to his cell and one of the guards would inject him with something that would knock him out cold for hours. Plus he did not work in the fields every day. Some days, he would be confined to his cell, so keeping track of the time had proven to be rather difficult.

However, Daryl had not expected that two weeks had already passed. That admission made his heart drop to his stomach. A full two weeks had passed, and he still had no idea how he would be able to escape his cell and find you, and that realisation made Daryl feel worse than he had already been feeling. His only hope of an escape at that moment would be to somehow knock Lucas out once he removed Daryl’s chains and make a run for it. It was his best bet. It was his only bet.

Lucas had begun to remove the chains that kept Daryl bound to the wall. He first removed the ones around his legs, before moving to his hands. However, as if possessing the ability to read the brooding archer’s mind, Lucas’ eyes flickered up to Daryl’s, a warning swimming around in his green irises.

“I wouldn’t attempt an attack if I were you,” he began in a threatening tone of voice. “There are three guys waiting for us upstairs. If you managed to kill me and make a run for it, they would shoot you on sight. And then they would go and have a little fun with that pregnant whore of a wife of yours before putting her out of her misery as well. And correct me if I’m wrong, but the death of the mother so early on in the pregnancy means that the baby would perish, too. So I would think wisely before acting out if I were you.”

Lucas could have been lying. Daryl definitely would not put it past the man in front of him to do so. However, Daryl clung on to the hope that you were still alive, and if you were, he did not want to be the reason you suffered a fate far worse than death. So he bit his tongue, swallowed back his pride, and willingly went with what Lucas instructed him to do. Once the shackles had fully been removed and Daryl had been yanked up to his feet, a pair of handcuffs had been secured around his wrists.

With Daryl thoroughly threatened and then cuffed, Lucas pushed the archer rather harshly. “Get moving,” he spat bitterly, his tone a stark contrast to the merry tone he had used a few minutes prior.

Daryl hesitated for a few moments, carefully considering his options for a moment, but he decided not to test fate just yet. He sighed and complied with the younger Davis man’s request, and began trudging forward. A staircase soon came into view, and Daryl climbed each step carefully, the wood creaking beneath the archer’s weight.

Soon enough, a door came into view, and Lucas pushed Daryl aside on the narrow staircase. He hastily opened the door, making a bright light flood the air. Daryl closed his eyes to shield them from the pain that the light caused, due to not having been in a properly lit space in a week. However, Lucas was having none of that. He grabbed the archer’s arm and harshly pulled him with him into the room.

Daryl stumbled and nearly fell to the carpeted ground below, but he managed to steady himself. Looking up, Daryl came face-to-face with the three men that Lucas had told him of, and he noticed that they were all armed to the teeth. Well, at least now he knew that Lucas had not been lying, and if he had not lied about that, then there was a good chance that he had not been lying about you. If he had opted to make a run for it, then there was a good chance that he would have been the reason you had to suffer a cruel fate. He was immensely relieved that he had opted to decide against it.

“Oh my god, you look like shit. Haven’t been able to take a shower recently, I take it?”

The archer’s jaw clenched at the sound of the voice he had come to hate. Liam. With a harsh glare, Daryl looked up and locked eyes with Liam. He could vaguely make out his surroundings, and he realised that he had been residing in the basement of the cruel leader’s farm house. He was back in the very same living room he had been in with you a week prior. The very same living room where everything had gone awry.

Liam’s twisted smile came into Daryl’s view, the scar at the edge of his mouth adding to the pure evil that the man exuded. He sent a nod in Lucas’ direction, before shifting his attention back to Daryl. “I have a few questions for you. Are you finally ready to talk?”

Daryl did not dare to utter a word. He was fully aware of the questions that Liam was talking about. Where are you from? Where’s the rest of your group? Why were you two on your own? The man had been coming down to his cell and had continuously been asking him those questions. However, Daryl had managed to remain quiet, even though he had suffered multiple deep cuts and bruises at the hands of Liam due to his silence. He would much rather die than give up the location of his found family. He would not have another Governor situation transpire, even if it meant he would lose his own life.

He just hoped that his defiance had not cost you your life. If it had, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

Liam’s smile slowly vanished from his face. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, his face adapting a faux look of disappointment. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he asked in a tone that closely resembled that of a parent scolding their child. “Bring him with me,” he commanded his brother, the man he had addressed instantly complying with his request. Liam grabbed the umbrella that had been laying against the wall opposite of him. “I hope you don’t mind getting wet, Daryl. I’m afraid I don’t have any umbrellas left to spare.”

Getting wet was the least of Daryl’s concerns. Where the hell was he being taken? Why had Liam’s lips twitched up into a small, ominous smirk when he had turned around and started stalking towards the door? Why did Mariah, Liam’s wife, send him a sympathetic look when his eyes had locked with hers when he had passed her on the way out the door? And why was he being led through the pouring rain to what appeared to be hundreds of wells that appeared as if it had been sealed off, but the boards to all of them had been ripped off recently? All except for one?

Liam stopped in front of one of the wells, one of which had a makeshift door on top of it. He opened the latch of the door and swung it outwards. He peered down into the hole before looking at Daryl with a smirk. “How about you have a look, Daryl? Perhaps this could persuade you to change your mind.”

Daryl did not have a say in the matter. Lucas pushed him forward and against the stone of the well. “Say hello to your darling wife.”

The archer’s eyes widened at his words. He quickly looked down at the deep hole in the ground. At first, he did not see you at all, and he considered the possibility that the man had opted to take the piss out of Daryl in an attempt to get answers from him. However, a movement at the bottom caught his attention, and on further, more thorough inspection, Daryl could see that they had not lied to him.

You laid at the bottom of the well, relatively motionless. Had it not been for the fact that you had moved a few seconds prior, Daryl would have believed that you were dead. He could vaguely make out a bowl and a water bottle that laid next to you, both toppled over, so it appeared as if the people had at least been feeding you. But other than that, you definitely looked worse for wear.

“Y/N,” Daryl rasped out brokenly, a lump forming in his throat at the sight of you. You did not look as if you were being properly taken care of, and that made the archer want to kill everyone within his vicinity. He took a step back from the well. His eyes trailed up and locked with those of Liam, a death glare being thrown at him. “If ya dun’ get ‘er outta there right now—”

“Then what, you’ll kill me?” Liam laughed incredulously. “You kill me, Lucas kills you, and then her.” For added emphasis, he motioned down at you in the well. “Hell, I still can kill her if you even so much as push my buttons, Daryl. Don’t test me.” He took a threatening step towards the crossbow-wielding archer, his eyes glaring into Daryl’s menacingly. “Now how about we try this again? Answer my questions, or else Lucas here shoots down at your wife. For every answer I don’t like, another shot gets fired. We’ll start with her legs and move up until we reach her head, and you’ll get to witness every scream of agony she lets out, and you’ll get to know that your stubbornness is the reason she’s suffering.”

Daryl’s heart stopped at Liam’s words. He never wanted to be the reason you got hurt, physically or emotionally. However, his loyalties were conflicted. He owed everything to his found family back in Alexandria, but then there was you. His wife. The one that had stuck with him since the early days at the quarry. The one that had stuck with him through thick and thin, through all of his bullshit and troubles. The one that was carrying his baby. The one he wanted to start his own family with.

Daryl sighed in defeat. It physically hurt his being to do what he was about to do, but he had to. He had no other choice. “Alright,” he conceded in a whisper. “What’cha wanna know?”

Liam smirked in victory. However, before he could utter a single word, the sound of a gunshot reverberated throughout the air. At first, Daryl had assumed that Lucas had taken a shot at you, and he whipped around to see, but he soon realised that the shot had not come from the leader’s right hand man. It had come from somewhere else, somewhere beyond the gated walls of the Sunny Meadows community. Soon, more gunfire filled the air, and loud yells and cries of agony could be heard.

“Intruders!” someone yelled from afar, before being interrupted by a scream.

Liam whipped around to look at Daryl and Lucas. “Get him back to his cell,” he instructed curtly, grabbing his own weapon from its holster. “Then get the men ready for battle.” When Lucas did not instantly comply, Liam’s voice rose in one final command before running off. “Did you not hear me? Get fucking going!”

That made Lucas finally do what was asked of him. Grabbing Daryl by his arm, he pulled him behind him, forcing the archer to have to jog to keep up with his pace. However, that was not his main concern. As if sensing that a war was about to break out, the rain had started to worsen, falling down to the earth heavier and heavier with each passing minute. As Daryl got dragged back to his cell, his only thoughts were of you, and he prayed to whatever god was listening that you would be okay.

Because the rain only got heavier, and it had not been lost on the archer that the ‘doors’ to the well you were being held captive in had not been closed. And if Daryl knew anything about wells, it’s that they tended to fill up with water when it rained.

[dreamcatcheratdawn]

Can you write something about Shanks x reader? Like, the reader was teleported by Kuma, now she's on Shanks's ship and he offered himself to train her. (Can be fluffy with a little bit of angst. And slightly of age gap)

I loved the idea✨. Shanks is one of my favorite OP characters (after Luffy, Kid and Zoro, of course). And I wrote this while marathoning One Piece (I'm still in the Punk Hazard arc 😭) one eye was on the caption and the other eye was on the writing.

"Let me help you"

Pairing: Shanks x gn!reader

Warning: slight angst, fluff most of the time.

W/C: 18.1k

You, as a resident of the Sabaody Archipelago since birth, are good friends with Rayleigh and Shakky. Ever since you were 7 years old, you would sneak out of your house to visit Shakky's Rip-off Bar just so you could listen to Rayleigh tell several of his adventure stories from when he was still a pirate while Shakky prepared his favorite juice. It was like a hobby, and you loved it.

You just didn't expect that on another calm, sunny day, a seriously injured fish-man, a mermaid, a talking starfish and a group of very strange pirates would show up at Shakky's bar.

At the bar, as you sipped a beer, you watched the scene unfold in front of you, seeing what looked like a pet bandaging the fish-man.

"A raccoon?" You said, tilting your head to the side. The animal in question looked furious and turned its head towards you. "I AM NOT A RACCOON, I AM A REINDEER!" the reindeer exclaimed, blowing smoke out of its nostrils. He went back to what he was doing, muttering quietly.

Rayleigh, smiling, came to his side, taking a seat in front of the counter.

"What happened while you were out?" You asked Rayleigh, as Shakky offered him a glass of beer.

"Oh, I was almost sold into slavery," Rayleigh said, as calmly as if this happened to him often. "EHHHH?" You were shocked, not that enslaving humans shocked you, as much as you found it disgusting, but who in the world could capture Silvers Rayleigh to be sold! That didn't fit at all.

"How did they catch you? And how did you escape?" You kind of already knew the answer, just the use of the King's Haki was enough for Rayleigh to get away.

"I had the help of that little guy over there" He pointed his chin at the boy with a straw hat on his head who ate like a pig, if not worse. Rayleigh was now talking to Shakky, while you brought the glass of beer to your lips, feeling the bitter taste of the cheap drink. "Ah, did you know that he faced a Tenryuubito?"

Immediately, you choked on that information, beer coming out of your nose.

"Ahhhh, a lady!" A blond man came up to you with hearts in his eyes, offering you a handkerchief. "How could I not see you there? With this beauty that blinds a man, forgive me miss, you don't deserve such disgrace." You ignored the chatter of the blond man with the strange eyebrows and walked over to the boy in the straw hat.

"EI" You caught his eye and that of the rest of the people present. "Are you crazy? Do you want to attract the attention of the navy by taking on a Tenryuubito?" You snorted next to the boy. You, in your thirties, had never heard such an appalling event.

Swallowing the piece of meat he was eating, the straw hat said, "I'm not crazy! And I only did it because that idiot shot Hachi, so of course I'm going to fight back!" He exclaimed, looking at you with a kind of determination. That shocked you to some extent. You sighed heavily "Still, who are you to stand up to a protégé of the World Government?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be the King of the Pirates!" Luffy exclaimed once again, taking the large piece of meat into his mouth and swallowing.

"Ah, so you're that pirate with a 300 million berry bounty," you said, leaning against the counter. "But that won't solve anything, the navy will surely strike back."

"Actually, it's likely that they're already on their way here" Rayleigh said "Hey Shakky, I want some more beer" He said, indignant that his drink had run out.

You sighed once more, feeling the pangs of a headache when too many bad things were happening at once. After a while, the Straw Hat pirates left the bar, saying they were going to stay in the archipelago for another three days to throw off the Navy. The place was now silent, leaving only you, Shakky, Rayleigh, Hachi and his friends, whom you knew as Camie and Pappag. In your mind, the events of now were running wild.

A few hours later, Rayleigh stood up, heading for the door of the bar.

"Where are you going?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"I'm going to help Luffy" He left before you could say anything else. "Tch, what a stubborn old man" You exclaimed.

"Come on, he can take care of himself, you know that" Shakky said smiling as he cleaned the counter

Hours and hours passed and no news about Rayleigh or the Gang of Straw Hats.

You paced back and forth, anxiety running through your mind as you bit your nails. You stopped, looking at the door. Making up your mind, you headed for the exit, ignoring Shakky's protests for you to stay.

Running through the mangroves, you followed the sound of explosions, the smoke filling your lungs every time you got close. Arriving at your destination, you saw that the place was a zone, pirates everywhere, navy soldiers firing into the wind. Scanning around, you found Rayleigh fighting Kizaru, a navy admiral you knew only by face. Before you could get to Rayleigh, a familiar shout made you stop, turning in the direction of the sound. It was Luffy shouting, while his companions were fighting Kuma, one of the Navy's seven Shichibukais. When Kuma's hand touched one of Luffy's companions, one with orange hair, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

On impulse, you went over to them, wondering if you could help them. You barely knew Luffy, but the short time you spent together was enough for you to judge him as a man of good intentions.

As you ran towards them, you saw that some of Luffy's companions were missing. You guessed that they had been defeated, probably by Kuma.

"Luffy!" you shouted, pulling him out of the way of Kuma's hands, but this only resulted in one thing: you tripping over something you didn't identify and falling to the ground. You turned to Kuma, pulling a gun from your waistband as you fired wildly at him, but it had no effect.

"A friend of Luffy from Straw Hat?" The Shichibukai said, staring at you for a few seconds before his giant hand touched you, the power of his Akuma no Mi taking effect, his body disappearing. You felt an enormous pressure in the room, causing you to faint immediately afterwards.

You felt trapped in something soft while you were lying down. It was as if you were lying on a pile of clouds. Opening your eyes slowly, small pains spread through your body. On closer inspection, you were flying in the sky, but you couldn't feel the breeze and, incredibly, you didn't feel short of breath because you were wrapped in a kind of bubble. Dramatically, the memories returned to your mind, making you feel pathetic.

"Damn, I couldn't do anything useful" you thought to yourself, mulling it over as the bubble carried you across the vast sky. You still had the gun in your hand, so you put it in your waistband, not that it was any use without bullets. You didn't know how many hours or days you had slept, but you wanted to know what your fate would be. Before you could think of anything else, the bubble protecting you landed, startling you. What if it fell into the open sea? You knew how to swim, but sea monsters could appear anywhere.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you fell into a ship, hitting your back on the wooden floor.

"Damn…" you cursed, then got up and opened your eyes, only to find a bunch of men around you. A pirate ship, your senses alerted you, making your hand go towards the gun you always carried, pointing it at several of the men.

"Boss, come and see this." A portly man with a piece of meat in his hand spoke up. As the men around you moved away, you could immediately feel an overwhelming presence. Turning in the direction of the presence, you could see a man with red hair and a scar on his face coming towards you. Immediately, you recognized the man. It was impossible not to recognize the pirate in question, given the fact that both his person and his deeds were notorious and circulated widely on people's lips. It was Shanks, The Redhead, a name that made many people shudder just to hear it.

Your body trembled, the gun in your hand wavering as you pointed it in the Redhead's direction, bitterly regretting your decision, but you were too proud to turn back.

"Well well, looks like we've got a scared kitten here," Shanks laughed, looking over at you. He crouched down very close to you, leaning his forehead against the barrel of the gun. "Aren't you going to shoot?" A faint smile appeared on the pirate's face as he stared into your soul.

"Don't play games with me," you said, with great difficulty, trying to sound strong, but coming out more like a cry for help.

Shanks stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, before bursting into laughter, his body tilting backwards, his men doing the same. You, not understanding anything, blushed intensely with embarrassment. "Ouch, scaredy-cat, how the hell did you get here out of nowhere, huh?" Shanks asked after wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

You, seeing no point in hiding the truth, (not as if you could, Shanks would get the truth out anyway) told him the truth. He understood, saying that he knew Luffy, then smiling, saying that the boy only got into trouble.

"Well, what if I taught you how to fight for real?" He came up with the idea out of the blue, while sipping sake sitting on one of the ship's barrels.

You looked at him, surprised by his proposal. You looked at the ground, remembering how pathetic you were to try to fight a Shichibukai when you didn't even know the basics of anything. You looked at Shanks again, determination shining in your eyes.

"Please teach me how to fight!"

Shanks smiled, setting the sake aside as he stood up. "Looks like the scared little kitten has guts. I like that about you."

You blushed slightly at his words, standing up too. "Well, I'll teach you everything I know."

Days and days went by as Shanks taught you the most varied fighting techniques. Months later, he saw that you were strong enough to learn how to use Weapons Haki and Observation Haki. A year and a half flew by and you didn't even notice. Along with fighting and teaching, you developed feelings for Shanks.

It started with the nicknames; kitten, shawty, cutie. Then there were touches here and there. As well as the time you spent together without fighting or learning the theory of anything. Just the moments Shanks spent recounting his adventures with a twinkle in his eye in the dead of night when most of the pirates were too drunk to sober up. And you listened to every word that came out of his mouth with admiration, secretly happy for the adventures he had been through. There were also the times when he and the crew tried your sweets, from the first day you started making them, with the excuse that it was payment for his teaching and temporary hospitality. But you couldn't deny to yourself that the reason was just to please him as much as possible, so that you could receive a pat on the head or a mess of hair, followed by compliments from the redhead.

Oh, and let's not forget the flirting. The damned flirting that he would give you with that mischievous little smile, to which you would respond back with rosy cheeks, not wanting to be left behind in any way, especially when it came to Shanks.

And on this night in question, it seems he was loaded with flirting to try and embarrass you while everyone drank and ate outdoors, partying for nothing.

"Hey Y/N." The sound of the redhead's sweet voice caught her attention, her head turning in the direction of the melody that called her name. Seeing him sitting next to Benn, sipping a sake, you smiled, putting your hands on your waist. "Yes, Shanks?" You answered the man, already preparing yourself for what was to come.

"If I happen to drown, do I get a mouth to mouth breath from you?" he asked, his damn winning smile opening the door for your heart to skip a beat.

Her legs turned to jelly for a moment, never getting used to the feeling of receiving the slightest bit of attention from Shanks.

"Well, try your luck and I'll be happy to do it," you replied, putting a false smile on your face, but you didn't know whether to throw yourself into the sea out of embarrassment or kiss Shanks in front of everyone.

Shanks, being the flirt he was - very professional, so to speak - didn't expect you to be able to respond to his flirting, or even better than that, which caused the man to have a total meltdown, leaving him speechless.

"HAHA, Y/N dismantled the boss" Lucky laughed out loud, his companions laughing next, bringing Shanks to attention, his cheeks slightly flushed. He hid his smile as he turned over the sake bottle.

After an hour or so, the crew of the Redhead Pirates were too drunk to even stand up. Some went to sleep in their rooms, others blacked out in whatever corner of the ship was considered "comfortable".

You were washing the dishes that the men had soiled during the party. Living with men wasn't easy, since Benn was one of the few who cared at all about the cleanliness of the ship. So you did the cleaning, since you couldn't stand living in the mess and dirt.

You started thinking about your home in Sabaody, missing Rayleigh's stories, Shakky's cheap booze, the cotton candy from the Archipelago that tasted special. You felt a pang in your chest from nostalgia. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't feel the presence of Shanks behind you, only sensing when his arms were wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. The man's sudden movement made your body shudder. "Shanks?" You looked at him, confused.

He looked at you, while smiling faintly. "Yes, kitten?" he purred softly, his nose sinking into your clothes, his eyes closing as he inhaled your perfume deeply.

In that situation, you felt stagnant, not knowing what to do. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your hair was standing on end, and the desire to kiss him right then and there was greater than anything in the world.

You swallowed dryly, dropping the dishes from your hands as you wiped your hands on the cloth on your other shoulder. "Are you even sober?" You asked, apprehensive of his answer.

Shanks opened his eyes, squinting at you for a few seconds, then immediately turned his body so that you were facing him. Shanks' muscular body pressed against yours, making you breathless. "Enough to answer for my actions." Shanks said, their faces very close together, Shanks' lips almost touching yours as his eyes roamed over your lips, without any shame in facing them.

You were losing your sanity and along with it, your patience. "Kiss," you said, drawing his attention instantly to your eyes. "If you have the courage, of course." You challenged, your breathing pausing for a moment to see what he was going to do.

"You asked for it," Shanks said before attacking your lips, and what began as a sloppy kiss, saliva spilling out, continued with a kiss of dominance from both of you, tongues and teeth clashing, making you both lose your breath, while his hands circled your waist, squeezing lightly from time to time, and you snaked your arms around his neck, stroking his soft hair. You separated so you could breathe.

That didn't stop Shanks from sprinkling wet kisses all over your face, which you gladly accepted, not letting any opportunity pass you by. "Be part of my crew" he said breathlessly "I like you. I like you a lot. I can't let you get away from me." The redhead's statement made your heart leap, longing for this moment since the day you realized you liked that man. "Please?" He asked, his pleading eyes looking at you while his face was a pure mess, and you were probably on the same level. It stirred you, a chill in your stomach settling in.

"Yeah," you didn't have to think long. God, it was Shanks over there, begging you like a puppy to stay by his side. "And I like you too." Both the statement and the quick acceptance surprised Shanks, making him blink a few times. "That easy? I thought women played hard to get at times like this." His arms encircled your body even more, bringing you closer to him.

"Well, I'm a straightforward woman. But I need you to stop by the Sabaody Archipelago. I need to know how Shakky and Rayleigh are doing after all that mess with the Navy," you said, your hands on Shanks' bare chest. Shanks' eyebrows rose. "You know Silvers Rayleigh?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes… he's like a father to me" You said, tilting your head to the side. "You've never said that to me," the redhead uttered, indignantly.

Instead of just replying with a simple "sorry", you decided to be mischievous. "Do I have to?" you said, a little smile playing across your face. Shanks sighed in shock, then smiled and pinched your nose. "You little brat, respect me, I'm older than you"

"It's only nine years apart," you smiled, joining in the fun as you enjoyed your evening, knowing that you had made the right choice from the start.

If you've made it this far, I take off my straw hat. Jokes aside, but I got too carried away writing this, sorry if it's too long. And I hope you enjoyed it, I really do.

[ungodly-amounts-of-godly-trauma]

wotw round 1

propaganda under the cut!

bandu:

so bandu is a fat transgender furry gamer youtuber (i can't make this up). but part of the fandom often makes him effeminate, clueless, nice, and overall one-note when in reality he's a chaos god shapeshifter from a higher dimension who has probably killed people but chooses to wear a fursuit and do mukbang challenges. the woobification probably happened in part because his sibling is even more powerful and ruthless than he is, so he became the fallguy for the "uwu innocent of the two siblings" trope when in reality he's the annoying gamer sibling trope, not the soft one. he's definitely kinder than his sister but he's not a perfect baby. i think he's also victim to the harmful "soft shy transmasc" trope as well, sadly.

basil:

You wouldn't be able to put this in the poll because it's a major spoiler, but Basil hung his friend's (Sunny's) sister's (Mari's) dead body when they were 12, and stabbed Sunny in the eye when they reunited 4 years later, sending Sunny to the hospital. Sunny is still haunted and traumatized by the image of Mari's body hanging, and their friend group suffered a lot from thinking she'd killed herself, and yet the fandom just ignores this entirely. Because Basil likes flowers and has anxiety, he's painted as this silly little uwu soft boy who deserves to be forgiven for The Accident just as much as Sunny does. I'm sorry, Sunny was arguing with Mari when he pushed her away, and she fell down the stairs and died. That's completely not his fault. Siblings push each other around all the time. He couldn't have expected that to happen. But actively choosing to hang the body of someone you were friends with??? Bro??? Who does that, let alone a 12 year old? How could their friends be okay with that? I would forgive Sunny, but I'd never speak to Basil again. People are scared of enjoying characters who aren't completely morally pure, and it's like… Dude. It's okay. You don't need to justify anything. Get your brain out of the Tiktok gutter.

I really love Basil's character, or I did; I really like his complexity and how he was written in canon, but the fandom has now, unfortunately, conditioned me into being severely irritated whenever I see his face. This entire take will get me nailed to a cross by the Omori community, but so be it.

the fandom is split on opinion but so many people babygirlify him,,,, i HATE it. he staged a death as a suicide and caused all his friends to have lotsa trauma and his best friend to lock himself away, and when his best friend came outta his house for the 1st time in FOUR WHOLE DAMN YEARS, Basil basically avoids him and either KILLS HIMSELF or RIPS HIS BEST FRIENDS EYE OUT!!!!! this kiddo AIN'T your innocent baby boy,,,, he's done BAD THINGS and you NEED to acknowledge it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[soapppp]

CW: mention of assault and heavy abuse.

Except he can’t. She trusted him because he had no face to her, because he asked before grabbing her hand and spoke to her like a person and not some dog or robot. She was scared until he showed her the dead bodies he had already created. He gives in after two days and looks her up only to find that the hospital hadn’t found a name or anything, just calling her Jane Doe. She’s also been heavily sedated after lashing out at every male nurse and doctor who came her way, even some of the women. He doesn’t remember driving to the hospital or putting on a black surgical mask and sunnies, but he does remember a nurse telling him not to enter room 249. He told her he had saved her and wanted to see for himself she was okay. She didn’t believe him which strangely comforted him, making him wait for security to be there in case she reacted badly to him so he could be arrested.

As soon as she sees him she’s jumping out of bed, ripping out several tubes as she goes, and jumping into his arms. He shushes her as best he can, awkward as he holds her steady and sets her back in her bed. The nurse puts the IV back in and the security personnel leave, allowing him to get a rundown on her condition. Her left leg will never be able to fold all the way and her right shoulder is permanently disfigured like her right hand. She sobs to him, telling him she’s scared and that the men were stabbing her and making her go to sleep. He holds her hand as they knock her out for surgery and promises to be there when she wakes.

Ghost makes sure to get the details on what she’ll need as her stomachs heals and then promptly walks her out of the hospital in a wheelchair and goes to one of his safe houses in Exeter. He calls Price and says he’s taking some time off and hangs up when the other asks how long. Him and the girl become odd friends. He teaches her to read, she teaches him to sew, he teaches her to fight, she teaches him to waltz to jazz music. He lets her play music all day despite wanting silence, let’s her try cook a number of different foods and eats it no matter how toxic it may look, he sits by her bed and holds her hand as she comes back from nightmares, he does it all. He feels like he’s doing a performance of a parent but only with the protectiveness and teaching, some care but no true paternal love.

He gives her a name other than Jane, choosing Aliana as it means a second chance. She sobs for hours and doesn’t let go of his hand the entire day.

It’s after four months of raising her to be a human, a true young girl who can make mistakes and doesn’t need to get on her knees for forgiveness, that his team shows up at his house. He knew they had already checked four of them, saw them on the cameras and warned his wayward child they would show up at some point. She makes brownies and cupcakes, scones and cookies for their arrival and puts on a floor length yellow dress with big puffy sleeves they got at a thrift shop as well as a dozen other (frankly quiet ugly) dresses that she wanted.

His team assumes he had a secret daughter to which he says nothing and let Aliana play out her tea party even with her tense shoulders and nervous eyes. She leans against him for comfort and reassurance every now and again and he can’t help the pride and slight pain that bubbles in his chest when she does.

Ghost never wanted kids, never wanted to be his father, but broken people find homes in broken souls.

[incandescent-creativity]

i know you've probably talked about this but can you wax poetic about their sun/moon dynamic again

Oh, god, these two. So, so defined by their upbringings.

Ash, an only kid with two loving parents and a devoted grandmother in the City of Vanithea. Doted on and encouraged and supported, delighted when she wanted to become an Auxiliary like her parents. And then having two thirds of that ripped away the day she got the job she had been chasing under their tutelage. The Auxiliary life, now soured by grief after her parents were lost on a voyage that the Auxiliaries sent them on. Ash’s entire world shattered. The silver constellation necklace, a tie to her mother’s sun necklace and father’s moon pendant, remains a physical reminder of it all that she never takes off.

Zach, part of a large family that had the space (both literally, on their farmland, and emotionally, making time for all of their children). Interests were indulged in just as heavily as the lessons on manners, teamwork, and practical knowledge were taught. There was hard work to be done, all the time, but there were just as many nights of laughter, song, and games. Life in Hillgate produced a young man quick with a sunny smile, optimistic to a fault, and almost completely unprepared for the gut punches that can come your way. His girlfriend breaks up with him, and he wakes up from his night of drinking with the sun shining down on him in a new city, across the ocean from his hometown.

At first, Ash helps him because of a sense of duty. He walked into her Help Center, she is going to help him. Then, curiosity—he came from where? And how? She forgives his irritating habits, his strangeness. He’s a new mystery to figure out, and that is more alluring than any irritation is.

And then they go further. They end up the only two humans in a foreign nation, trying to figure out what is going on and why everybody is refusing to tell them things. Then, further, they become the only two humans who look the way they do, the only two humans who have taken on the physical prices of spells. The are the first two humans who have golden scars from teleportations; Ash has horns and is taller than they remember; Zach has pointed ears and eyes that reflect the light.

Altered by a powerful magic ritual that revealed their fears to themselves and to each other, they have no choice but to understand the other.

And separately, they each decide to stick together. Ash can’t help but be reminded of the way she was, and Zach is a taste of that positivity back in her life that she would have denied that she was missing, and would have rejected if circumstances had not forced her to rely on him and speed run the insight that creates friendship.

And Zach is prone to making friends with people already, especially when he sees someone hurting like she is. But, more emotionally intelligent than Ash, he also recognizes that she is a kind of no-nonsense, harsher personality that he has only encountered in curmudgeonly elders around town. She is driven, and maybe a little bit mean, but she gets stuff done in a way that he admires and lacks in his own life.

And then together, they accomplish some wild stuff.

[enjomo-arch]

𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗗 : 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 / @chatcambrioleur

❝  can i ask what happened here—  how did you get this one?  ❞

❝  Ah,  that  ?  ❞  A  blink  of  an  eye  before  his  sight  travelled  along  her  finger  pointing  at  the  side  of  his  body,  right  towards  the  already  old  and  sealed  scar.  The  one  where  a  bullet  once  lodged  fired  towards  his  crew  and  only  he  could  not  sit  idly  by  but  stand  in  the  way  of  the  oncoming  danger  so  that  he  could  take  the  shot.  When  he  was  young,  he  was  far  more  reckless,  overconfident  in  himself  and  his  abilities  that  the  devil  fruit  allowed  him  to  be.

Whether  a  blade  or  a  bullet  from  a  gun  everything  flew  through  his  fluid  -  fire  body  but  he  never  expected  it  to  be  a  vicious  trap,  a  bullet  made  of  the  sea  prism  nullified  completely  what  Ace  was,  getting  stuck  within  his  flesh,  piercing  a  wound  so  deep  he  almost  couldn't  believe  anything  was  able  to  touch  him.  That's  when  Ace  first  overestimated  his  abilities.    His  expression  softened  slightly,  it  wasn't  a  bad  memory.  It  didn't  matter  if  he  was  hurt  or  not,  what  mattered  to  him  was  the  safety  of  the  crew  he  once  commanded.  He  could  take  up  to  a  thousand  bullets  for  them.

❝  Y'know,  Nami.  I  haven't  always  been  in  Pops'  crew.  Before  I  joined,  three  years  before  Luffy  went  on  his  adventure  I  formed  my  own  crew.  We  were  called  the  Spade  Pirates.  My  name  appeared  many  times  in  newspapers  all  over  the  world,  we  were  a  really  well-known  crew  for  rookies  which  also  caught  the  attention  of  the  Navy.  ❞  Ace  shifted  in  his  seat,  one  finger  smoothing  over  the  scar  on  the  side  of  his  body,  close  to  his  abdomen  but  not  quite  precise  to  damage  any  of  his  insides.  

❝  When  we  left  Fishman  Island,  straight  for  the  New  World  we  were  raided  to  be  arrested.  I  saw  the  commandin'  officer  targetin'  one  of  my  crewmates.  She  was  ...  almost  like  a  mother  to  us,  y'know  ?  I  was  young  at  the  time  so  I  didn't  know  it  could  end  like  that.  After  all,  y'know,  neither  blade  nor  bullets  can  cut  fire,  right  ?  ❞  A  small  smile  lingering  over  his  lips,  for  a  moment  the  Fire  Fist's  gaze  focused  over  a  trophy  of  memory.  

A  captain  willing  to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  crew  no  matter  what.  He  was  glad  that  Banshee  didn't  take  damage,  and  even  the  pain  and  the  sea  prism  sucking  out  the  living  energy  from  him  wasn't  enough  of  a  price  if  something  happened  to  her.  He'd  never  forgive  himself  if  he  didn't  step  in.  ❝  These  projectiles  were  made  of  sea  prism,  perfect  to  nullify  the  effects  of  any  devil  fruit.  It  was  just  an  ambush  on  me,  and  I  stood  up  for  her.  I  was  shot  pretty  badly,  and  I  had  to  rip  the  bullet  out  myself  to  keep  from  losin'  all  my  strength  when  we  were  practically  cornered  by  the  Marine.  I'm  glad  I  took  the  shot  though.  I  don't  know  what  I  would  have  done  if  it  had  been  a  Banshee  in  my  place.  ❞  

He  chuckled,  a  cheerful  grin  spreading  over  his  features,  bright  like  his  own  flames  when  he  looked  towards  her.  Leaning  back  against  the  railing  of  the  Sunny  with  arms  crossed  behind  his  head.  ❝  Then  I  learned  that  I  could  not  just  rely  on  my  power.  I  must  also  rely  on  others,  those  who  will  be  able  to  defend  me  and  are  as  strong  as  I  am,  whether  with  or  without  the  fruit.  ❞  

[zukkaflowers]

zukka who met when they were kids

while zuko was on a trip to the south pole with his mother to get away from his father for a bit and go someplace he wouldn’t follow. zukka who recognize they’re from warring tribes and give each other fake names and vitriol until they become friends because they can’t help it. they’re barely ten and already starting to feel the loneliness that will just sink in deeper as the years go by. but they find a way to write each other letters and continue their secret forbidden friendship, until zuko writes to sokka that he’s going on a quest to redeem himself in front of his father. so when they’re fifteen and sixteen and sokka prepares himself to face the evil fire nation man who dared to attack his tribe to try and find the avatar and finds himself face to face with the boy he used to write all his secrets to—he covers the shock that floods his face and hardens his expression. he will always choose his tribe first. zuko’s breath is caught in his throat when he finds his first crush running at him, a battle cry ripping from his throat. he beats sokka down too harshly because his instincts are sharp and sokka hasn’t had enough experience in battle. he can’t figure out if sokka forgot his face or doesn’t recognize him with the scar or if he remembers and just doesn’t care. he realizes he doesn’t care which is true—he hates sokka more regardless. aang and katara never suspect that there might be an extra reason sokka hates zuko so much. “he keeps trying to kill us” is a pretty good reason on its own, so he’s never pushed to elaborate. as zuko pursues them, sokka and zuko clash more and more, and zuko watches sokka get stronger and more determined. it feels as if neither could want to kill the other more. after he decides to join the avatar, zuko finds himself distressed for days about how he’s going to face sokka. and he was right to. sokka is by far the least willing to forgive zuko, and that’s saying something. when zuko finally finds himself sitting beside the small, angry earthbender and the precious, sunny avatar, congratulating himself on the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, sokka stands up so abruptly that a cloud of dust comes up to frame his legs and he storms away from dinner. even katara thinks he’s being overdramatic, until she finds sokka cornering zuko later and growling about betrayal and the slime of snakes. she demands to know when zuko used to be on their side, and sokka leaves the room after seeing she’s there, knocking his shoulder against hers. but when zuko begins to tell her the truth, sokka barges back in again, yelling all the things he’s held in for the past year, letting more emotion rise in his chest than maybe he ever has before. anger, disgust, disbelief, resentment. and something else he doesn’t want to acknowledge. hurt. he’s so hurt. how could zuko come back to the place they met with the intent to destroy and burn? when he never followed through on his promises to come visit again, to build snow sculptures together again, to let sokka be with the one person who made him feel less alone, less like everything depended on him doing everything right and keeping everyone safe. he was young and he loved zuko, and zuko spat it back in his face in the most humiliating way. sokka slaps his hand over his mouth when he realizes he’s let his thoughts out of his mouth. katara’s eyes are flooded with shock, but zuko’s are warm with recognition and guilt. “i love you t—“ he starts, but sokka shoves him against the wall. “don’t you dare,” he spits, and then he’s gone from the room again.

zukka who met when they were kids and mixed their love and hate into one thing.

[papuhater]

“THEY EAT YOUR GANSITO/PINGUINO MARINELA” pt.1

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

ೃ⁀➷ a/n: (the gansito/pinguino marinela is a hispanic cream/jam filled pastry)

This is for my Spanish-speaking /Hispanic moots:

en verdad son muy importantes para mi :).

↳ ❝ [ P4Z'S V3R3D1CT] ¡! ❞

ೃ⁀➷ pairing: bnha bois x gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sumary: would they eat a dessert you left on the fridge? also this is part one, the part two will contain the gorls and tokyo revengers

¡! ❞ warnings: nah ¡! ❞

˗ˏˋformat: crack-fic, headcanonsˊˎ˗ ->

BNHA!

STUDENTS

Izuku: “would he eat it?”

Yes.

Accidentally, but yes.

Like man’s just chilling and then you come in, teary-eyed with a heart broken look.

He just appears by your side like VROOM “BABY ARE YOU OK????😭”, and he hears your voice breaking and you looking into his eyes

“D-did you eat my gansito?”

He starts apologizing when he realizes you aren’t talking to him

don’t worry he’ll buy every damn gansito in the store and bring it to you like

“I’M SORRYYYY, BUNNY I LOVE YOU SM:’(!”.

He’ll never get close to a gansito again.

Denki: “would he eat it?”

Yes.

Not accidentally, he didn’t know it was yours

but mf was very sure it wasn’t his

He was in the common room after finishing it, his mind was like

‘mmfmfmf chocolate glazed pastry 🤤’

until you barge in, looking furious

“Hey swe-“ “DID YOU EAT MY FUCKING PINGUINITO??” “HUH IT WAS YOURS?” “NOT ANYMORE, IT DOESN’T EXIST.”

He said sorry hundred times,

please forgive him your honor, he is a dumbass.

Bakugo: “would he eat it?”

NO.

THIS MAN IS AN ANGRY GENTLEMAN

ANGRY, YES

BUT A GENTLEMAN.

Someone had eaten your gansito and you just came in like

“Baby someone ate my gansito 😿”

and like the yeah yeahs say

“heads will roll on the floor😰”

he absolutely SLAUGHTERED who ever dared to grab your gansito >:(

neoways,

he bought you more gansitos cause he didn't like seeing you sad :'(

Todoroki: “would he eat it?”

No.

he doesn't even know what it is.

but you enter the room like "..."

and he stares at your heart-broken expression "...what happened?"

"SOMEONE ATE MY PINGUINITO D:< "

"your wha-?"

"MY PASTRY!"

"oh."

he irradates big pissed off energy

he bought you every pinguinitos in a bunch of stores (RIP endevour's card 🕊️👊)

and froze them with his quirk.

Tenya: “would he eat it?”

No.

He orders the common room

he KNOWS what isn't his

and he doesn't grab it

respect🚶‍♂️🤝

suddenly you barge in CRYINGGG

"HONEY WHAT OCCURED?"

"MY GANSITOOO, IT HAS BEEN EATEN"

mf becomes the sherlock holmes of 1-A

interrogates EVERYONE

"Did you eat y/n's gansito?"

he didn't let anyone sleep until he found who did it 😈

Kirishima: “would he eat it?”

nah just because of the fact it isn't manly.

why would he grab someone else's???

when you walk in teary-eyed crying cause of your pinguinito

he bad-eyes any suspect

"not manly bro,

not manly."

you two went out to buy pinguinito :)

Mirio: “would he eat it?”

no

well that's a lie.

yes, but he would buy you another one

like he leaves to buy it

and comes back to you cryINGGG

"BEUFGGHHHFDFJGK"

"MY SUNNY WHAT'S WRONG???"

he was very vry concerned

but "he gave you whta needed to be gave"

-rolling ray

jk jk

he gave his and your's gansitos

true love <3

Tamaki: “would he eat it?”

No

he would never grab anything that isn't his

but when someone grabs your stuff

and you're crying

mf steps up

and is like

"H-hey did you grab their pastry?"

"yea-"

the person wasn't heard of

never again

VILLANS

Tomura: “would he eat it?”

yes and no

half of it

he didn't careEE

but then he sees you crying

oh fuc-

"YOU GOOD?"

"TOMURA, WHY IS MY GANSITO HALF???"

robberyy babyyy

he'll steal a store and be like

"PUT THE GANSITOS IN THE BAG"

true love <3 2.0

Dabi: “would he eat it?”

yes

but just ONCE

you barge in looking furious

"did you eat my pinguinito?"

"yeah, what about it?"

"well i had bought and weufuwhff"

when you started crying he zoomed his way to you

"Baby i'm sorry please stop crying, i love you"

he ran like the wind for more pinguinitos

he felt guilty

bestie finally met manipulation 🤪

Overhaul: “would he eat it?”

straight up nah

deadass doesn't share a fridge so...

also thinks is unhygenic to share food

so is a big no

but you come in cryinG cause someone grabbed it

"MY GANSITOoISUBHGH"

"Are you really going to cry over this? It's not worthy."

"SHUT UP BLEAUNSAJGH"

the second you roar at him he KNOWS it's very important

he didn't even like the pastry, he thinks it's unhealthy

mans searched for the culprit

almost kills them

he didn't buy you one more tho

Kurono:“would he eat it?”

yes

he would do it

but he would replace it the second he does

*zoom*

you wouldn't even notice it

smooth mf

he even leaves two instead of one 😭

"WHERE IS MY PINGUI-"

"there it is, my little thing <3"

hubby material <3

Nemoto:“would he eat it?”

no

he believes in trust

he would be breaking your trust

damn, where are men like this??

he hates seeing you cry

he doesn't understand why are you cring over a pastry

"Darling please calm dow-"

"NAH CAUSE THAT PINGUINITO WAS MINE, YOU WOULDN'T GET IT BEUUFUGHHh"

He sometimes feels like your dad.

but he doesn't even get why you like it

he bought a better and more expensive pastry to try to replace it

you ate it but didn't look happy

he ended up buying you pinguinito <3

[samstree]

Revenge Best Served (Right out of the Oven)

Sam does not have kind words for a certain witcher.

1k, also on AO3

“I think,” Sam says, placing Jaskier’s hand gently on his knee, palm up for easier access to the scar, “I wouldn’t like this friend of yours very much.”

“Well, Geralt is an acquired taste.” The cool touch of salve soothes the tingling in the tips of Jaskier’s finger. He adds, “for most people anyway. It takes a while to warm up to his grunts and hums, but you’ll see he’s quite good underneath all the coarseness—”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Sam cuts off, to Jaskier’s surprise, but his voice is gentle. Of course, the baker is always gentle no matter who he’s talking to, and he’s also applying a minty salve on Jaskier’s old wound carefully and blowing on it from time to time.

But there’s also something else in his voice, stiff and distant, which makes Jaskier pause.

“Sam, darling,” Jaskier turns his hand to grab the one cradling his, the burning sensation in his fingers now eased. “Look at me.”

Beautiful brown eyes lift to meet Jaskier’s, the warmth in them ever-present, but the hint of anger is unmistakable.

Hmm. That is a first.

“Let’s not talk about him anymore,” Sam says, holding Jaskier’s hand up and placing a kiss on his wrist. “It ruins the mood.”

“You are cross with me.” Jaskier frowns, not understanding how he could have provoked the kind-hearted baker. “Do I talk about Geralt too much? I can stop if you don’t like it. Although I’ve made telling his story my whole career and the habit is just a bit hard to break.”

“Jaskier.” Sam’s eyes go wide, taken aback. “It’s not you I’m angry at. It’s him.”

Jaskier blinks. “You’ve never even met him.”

His blood runs cold at the idea that Sam might be like everyone else, ready to throw stones at witchers despite everything, despite Jaskier. No, not Sam too. He won’t be able to recover if—

“I don’t need to meet him to know he’s a terrible friend.” A sad smile stretches across the baker’s face, and Jaskier finds those warm, strong hands he loves so much at his side, caressing the exposed skin under his untucked chemise. “You went away with him and came back hurt. You can’t even play the lute and your clothes are all ripped. You’ve—” Sam bites his lips, anguished, cupping the sharp line of Jaskier’s jaw. “—You’ve gotten thin, and I—I’m angry at the witcher for returning you like this.”

Oh.

Jaskier catches Sam’s hand, ready to defend Geralt by instinct. “It wasn’t his fault. It was the mage, and prison, and the mountains. He tried—”

“I think I hate him,” Sam says with finality.

Jaskier can only shake his head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t hate anyone. Even when you do you forgive them because you are you.”

Because Sam has a heart too big for his own good. Jaskier wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason that those brown eyes darkened with hatred. He wouldn’t know if he’s worth it either.

“Hurting you is not something I can forgive.”

The silence that follows is unexpected. Jaskier tries to open his mouth several times but no words come out. In the end, he realizes his defeat—a bard is thoroughly rendered wordless by a baker.

“Well then,” Jaskier sucks in a breath, a pool of warmth gathering in his stomach. “What will you do if you ever see Geralt, my bravest defender and most generous lover?”

Sam does not back down. “I will certainly give him a piece of my mind! He should count himself lucky to have you at his side. If I had the honor of traveling with you for twenty years, I’d…”

Jaskier cocks an eyebrow. “You’d…?”

“I’d treat you right,” Sam answers. “I don’t care if he’s a witcher, or can fight monsters taller than our bell tower. I’d fight him if this happens again.” He looks down at Jaskier’s fingers. “And if I lose, I lose.”

Somehow, Jaskier doubts that. Despite his gentle personality and soft appearances, Sam is incredibly strong in the arms. Jaskier has enjoyed watching him carry sacks of flour and flexing those muscles on many sunny afternoons. The image of him shoving Geralt in the chest—and very possibly succeeding in toppling the witcher over—makes Jaskier let out a choked laugh.

“I’ll introduce you one day, just so I can watch you kick Geralt’s ass, perhaps.”

“I mean it, Jaskier. No one should be so careless with you on my watch!”

“I have every faith in you, my sweet, sweet Sam.” Jaskier winks. “Now speaking of, it is true that I’ve not had a decent bread roll in months. Will you heat up some cinnamon buns for me?”

Just like that, all the warmth in Sam’s eyes returns, those brown eyes reminding Jaskier of the caramel melting in the oven. “Better. I’ll make fresh ones.”

“And lemon cakes?”

Sam nods. “And lemon cakes, with extra honey. I’ll make the fruit tea you like, just to complete the set.”

Jaskier clasps his hands together, letting out a squeal. “You truly know how to pamper your bard, my dearest. Have I told you how much I love your profession? Seriously, it was the most excellent career choice one can make at the age of thirteen if you ask me! Oh, how will I ever repay you?”

“Just…” Sam smiles softly, brushing away the hair at Jaskier’s temple and placing another kiss there, his beard tickling a bit. “Be careful. With him, with your heart.”

With you too.

Jaskier wants to add, but all he can manage is a simple promise. “I will.”

Sam seems satisfied at that, despite the light worry still at the corners of his lips.

Hunger takes over and Jaskier reluctantly lets go of Sam, resisting the urge to sneak into the kitchen and nibble on whatever he can find and distracting his baker with more kisses.

No, he can’t do that. The cakes will be ready much later and he’ll end up with flour all over his hair. He needs to be strong.

Two minutes later, Jaskier decides, maybe he’s not a strong man after all.

[earlgreydream]

doubts.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. loki kinda degraded sub!reader and she scrunches up all tiny and sobs afterwards because she thought he meant what he said

cw: slightly smutty, slightly angsty

You begged Loki to let you come, fighting against the magical restraints your dom had placed around your wrists and ankles. 

“Oh, you want to come so bad you’re crying? You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?” Loki sneered, the words sending arousal pooling deep in your belly, even though you fought against it. Your body jolted at the slap administered to your inner thigh, a pained cry escaping your lips. 

You’d been acting up and testing Loki’s patience, which is what earned you this punishment, your pleasure being dangled in front of you, just out of reach. You’d broken his rules, and he’d had enough of your attitude. 

“Come now before I change my mind,” Loki’s tone was dangerous, and the pressure inside of you shattered. He followed your lead, finishing inside of you before he pulled out and made the restraints vanish. 

As the pleasure wore off, his words echoing in your mind, You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?

Loki stood off of the bed, going to run you a hot shower. As soon as he’d stepped away, a sob tore through your chest, your shoulders heaving as you cried. You curled up in a ball, feeling small and alone on his massive bed. 

Loki heard you crying, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He abandoned the shower and ran to your side, kneeling down on the bed. You looked so tiny and fragile, folding in on yourself. His chest ached when he heard your soft sounds and saw the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your hair, trying to self-soothe. He reached out to pull your hands away, wanting to keep you from anxiously tearing the hair from your sensitive head.

“My darling-” his voice cracked when you jerked away from him. You hiccuped on your broken sobs as they wrecked you, emotion flooding every last thought and turning you into a mess. 

Loki’s magic sparked around you, cleaning you up and leaving you both in loose clothing. The green shimmer surrounded you, Loki’s fruitless attempt to touch you without frightening you. It was warm, and seemed to buzz with its own life, but didn’t make you feel any better. 

“My darling, have I hurt you? Tell me whatever is wrong so that I may fix it,” Loki begged, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” you tried to catch your breath, wanting to get your keys and leave. 

He sank back, giving you space. His eyes were concerned and sad, and he fought against the urge to pierce into your mind, ripping the truth from you. The door vanished from the wall as you tried to run out, and you whipped around to face the god, who was kneeling on the bed and looking wounded. There was no exit, Loki keeping you contained to the bedroom until your devastation was resolved. 

“Y/N, I won’t let you leave when you’re so upset. You cannot drive safely. If you wish, I can take you anywhere you want to go,” Loki fretted, and though you knew he was right, you only grew more and more upset. 

“Come to me, darling,” Loki opened his arms, the authority in his voice making you comply. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You’d end up in Loki’s arms confessing your pain whether by his will, or your own.

Your sobs broke his heart, and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you firmly, and eventually your struggling subsided as you let yourself weep against his chest. 

“Please don’t make me pry the truth out of you,” Loki begged softly into your hair. He didn’t want to add to your pain, he only wanted to fix it. He was very aware that sifting through your mind to take your private thoughts was something that made you feel extremely violated. He wanted you to tell him on your own, but he wouldn’t let you keep such heartbreaking secrets from him. 

“Y-you... did you mean what you said about me? That I was pathetic, and d-desperate and a whore?” You sobbed out, stammering over your words.

“Oh, oh my goodness. My darling, I am so sorry. I never meant any of that. I thought you understood I just said it in the scene... please my love, I adore you more than all of the stars. Never think you are not the most perfect, beautiful, eloquent, and lovely person in my eyes. I love you, I will never say such horrible things again.” Tears flowed freely down Loki’s face. You were startled, unused to seeing raw emotion from him, especially not guilt. It hadn’t occurred to you that the words Loki had spoken were just part of the scene, part of the sex you were having. He wasn’t typically fond of degradation, but he was experimenting in the moment, never expecting it to be received as genuine. 

There was no room for doubt in his words. He meant his love then, and he would spend the rest of his life proving his love to you.

His strong arms cradled you against his body, trying to hold you together.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he breathed apologies like a repetitive prayer.

You listened to his heartbeat, letting the rhythm slow your racing mind. Your sobs eventually subsided, calmed by the steady circles of his hand on your back.

“I forgive you,” your lips moved against the underside of his jaw.

“Please always stop me, tell me then, if anything at all makes you feel even the slightest bit unsafe. I never want you to feel this way again, certainly not at my fault,” Loki begged, and you nodded before burying your face back in him.

“Do you still love me?”

“I love you the most,” you promised.

Loki talked you into staying the night, doting on you to the point you were almost smothered. His magic conjured everything you wanted, even in the back of your thoughts.

“Do you want to go get some?” He asked, and you turned, tilting your head in confusion.

“To Paris. For the macarons.”

“You’re reading my thoughts,” you sighed softly, but a smile graced your expression as you kissed him.

“No, I’m sleepy. Maybe tomorrow?” You asked, and he nodded, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed.

You situated yourself in his arms, your back against his chest. His larger frame shielded you, wrapping you in safety and warmth. You slept soundly with him, the pain and uncertainty from the afternoon long gone and replaced by his love.

The smell of coffee rose you out of your sleep. Your eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft light spilling in through the windows, and you sat up, suddenly realizing you weren’t in Loki’s bedroom at his apartment, where you’d fallen asleep.

“Loki?!” You called, and he leaned in the doorway.

“Good morning. I didn’t mean to frighten you. We took a short trip in your sleep. We’re at my Paris flat.”

You smiled, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. Loki put a coffee in your hands, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“If I cry will you spoil me more often?” You teased lightly, and he shot you his signature dom look of warning, making you shudder.

“It breaks my heart to see you cry, my darling,” Loki’s tone was apologetic, guilt still left over from the day before. You squeezed his arm as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m okay,” you swore, earning another kiss from your lover.

“Mm. Finish that up and we’ll go to the patisserie down the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, happy you were cheered up and back to normal. He moved his fingers and a pretty sundress appeared hanging on the back of the washroom door for you, delicate white flats placed below.

“Dressing me up like your little doll?”

“Careful, or I will dress you, after I get that attitude in line.”

“I love the dress. And I can put it on by myself,” you apologized, pecking his lips before walking to the bathroom.

You returned in the sundress, a white beret adorning your head along with it. You relished in the bright smile Loki rewarded you with. In a shimmer of green, he was dressed in pastels that matched your own. You loved to see him in casual clothes instead of the Asgardian armor he frequently wore, and he indulged you for this small Parisian vacation. 

“You look stunning, my darling.”

Giggles erupted from your lips, making Loki’s heart soften. He dipped his head down to kiss you, making your nose scrunch up in the cutest way that he loved. His long, slender fingers folded with yours, holding your hand as the two of you made your way out of the flat and onto the bustling street. You were thankful for the sunny weather, greatly improving your mood from the rough night in New York’s rain. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you nodded.

“Let’s get some crepes. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Loki.”

The young god pecked your lips before pushing you inside of a patisserie. 

“Salut,” the girl working called to the two of you as the bell clinged on the door.

“Darling, what would you like? We can take some macarons to go,” Loki asked, pointing to the pastries behind the glass.

You chose a few, and Loki rattled off your order in French to the shopkeeper, taking the bag from her and moving you to sit at a table in the corner for your crepes. 

“Can we stay in Paris for a couple of days? Just us, not any of the distractions from New York,” you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder and accepting the bite he fed you. 

“Most certainly.” He kissed the sugar off of your lips before the two of you left for a park with your snacks for later. Loki held your hand as you walked along a low stone wall beside him, your eyes level with the extra height. 

“Y/N, you must know that you are so, so terribly loved.”

You turned and snaked your arms around his neck, looking deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“I do not doubt your love, Loki.”

[lostbbygorl]

THE LAST PIECE OF YOU: CARMEN X GRAY

Carmen was laying on her bed on a sunny Saturday morning, looking out of her window with a smile on her face. It was a beautiful day. A perfect day to smile. Everything she had worked so hard to achieve worked out perfectly. She took down the world’s biggest crime organization. Now, it was time to be a normal young lady in her early 20s.

Her mother was basically an older version of her with gray streaks in her hair. They got along so well they could pass as sisters with an age gap. The two of them were looking for a good university for her. Knowing Carmen, she’d make it to one of the Ivies, so that’s what they shot for. Life was finally starting to go back to how it was always supposed to be. Carmen’s affection for her friends never died and they met up whenever they could. Player taught her how gaming works. She could let loose again.

She let loose. Just like she did all those years ago with him. When she laughed out loud and her whole face lit up. When she ran not because her life was potentially at stake, but because her young self wanted to win a game of tag. Oh, yes, him. How was he? Did he still remember her? Did he still miss her? Did he hate her for leaving him hanging?

Her train of thoughts came to a stop when she heard knocking from outside her door.

“ Mum?” she called out.

“ Carmen, dear, there’s a letter for you,” Vera Cruz replied.

“ A letter? Who sent it?” Carmen asked, opening the door for her mother. Curiosity laced the older woman’s face as she held a purple envelope.

“ I don’t know. Somebody named Graham Calloway. Do you know any Graham Calloway?” Vera said, handing her daughter the letter. Vera noticed the shift in Carmen’s countenance.

“ Why do you look so puzzled, Carm?”

“ Mom, hold on a second. Give me some time to read this, okay?”.

Carmen practically tore the envelope open to retrieve the letter inside. Her eyes darted from word to word, and her heart didn’t know what rhythm to follow. Should it beat faster or should it stop beating entirely? Tears welled up in her eyes like an overflowing bucket. Her tears streamed down like a waterfall, blurring her vision as well as the words written in blue ink on the ripped out ruled page of a notebook. Carmen’s world went stormy gray in a matter of seconds.

Carmen was numb to everything now. She couldn’t fully process what her mother was saying. She guessed it was a concerned questionnaire she wasn’t in the right state of mind to answer. The letter sat idly on the floor while Carmen sobbed into her mother’s chest, her whole figure shaking.

THE LETTER:

Dear Carmen,

Hey, it’s been a while. This is Gray writing.

Mate, I’m really bummed out about not seeing you one last time at the hospital. I forgive you for everything you’ve ever done. It wasn’t you speaking that night at the museum. That was all in the past, forget it. Move on.

Anyways, I suppose I should get to the point. I should tell you why I’m actually writing this letter. Well, I just love talking to you in general, even if the conversations are one sided. And this one is the most one-sided conversation I’ll ever have. Or had. Carmen, if you’re reading this, it’s because we won’t ever see each other again. That’s impossible. Not because you don’t want to come into my life and complicate it again or something, but because I’m six feet under in a coffin. Toowong Cemetery.

The doctors at the hospital are great, but they couldn’t see this coming. I did recover, but not for long. I was completely fine and ready to go start a fresh new life when my health deteriorated again. The injuries from that night made my heart weaker. The doctors did everything they could to save me, they truly did. They let me know that I probably don’t have much time to live. So I wrote this letter and gave it to Chief Tamara. I told her to give this to you when and if my heart fails me.

Carmen, I died because of heart failure, not because of what you did under technological influence. I DON’T BLAME YOU FOR ANYTHING. YOU ARE NOT AT FAULT.

I’ll tell you everything I never had the balls to say while I was alive. Carmen, I love you. You have no idea how much. Seeing you grow up into the strong woman you are today was a shocking, drastic thing to witness but it was wonderful, even when we were on opposing teams. I’m only human, Carm. Humans are selfish. Even when you returned to VILE and I wanted you to snap back to reality I did nothing about it for 6 months because I just liked having you close to me, beside me, working with me and not against me.

I never knew I could love someone as much as I love you. I want you to be happy. I wish you success in everything you do. Find a person who loves you just as much as I do, but don’t forget me okay. Even they have better looks and more money and a stronger moral compass, think of me fondly. I can handle any electric shock, but I can’t handle it ever if you think of me badly. Not even in death.

Oh, and did I mention I really love you?

Sincerely,

Graham Calloway (yours always)

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Could you do carol x fem!reader but like so angsty that I can cry myself to sleep even tho I’m on antidepressants and can’t feel anything but plz let there b a happy ending thank u so much love u

I'm not sure if this qualifies as angst but here's a draft I had that I edited a little to fit the request. I hope it does the trick :)

It Wasn't For You

Summary: A mission gone horribly wrong drives a wedge between you and Carol. Is the bond fixable, or are the things you both said unforgivable?

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,998

You weren't sure what that emotion was that was boiling in your blood as you stormed back to your apartment. Was it worry? Were you just upset? You let it sit with you a moment as you unlocked the door. It wasn't either one of those things. It was rage. It was hot, unbridled rage. The cause of it was a certain Avenger who you had thought loved you enough to not do what she'd done. Clearly, she hadn't.

She was right behind you, stepping through the doorway before you could slam it behind you. You growled under your breath as she invited herself into your home, closing the door only once she was in. You didn't even bother turning to face her. You went straight to the bar and poured yourself a drink, not offering her one and not planning to let her touch a single drop of your alcohol. You took a sip of the hard liquor.

"Would you listen to me for one goddamn second?" She huffed out.

"I listened to you for multiple seconds, Carol. It doesn't change any facts."

"I did it for you!"

"I don't give a fuck."

Truly and honestly, you didn't. What she'd done was immoral, infuriating, and wholly unforgivable. She could get down on her knees right there in front of the bar and you wouldn't have batted an eyelash. It wouldn't be enough. In fact, you were convinced that nothing would be enough for you to forgive her. It didn't matter how much you had loved her yesterday or the day before. It didn't how much you loved her today.

"I'd do it again," she assured.

"Then I would do this again," you turned to finally face her, eyes locking with the brown ones that could usually instill a sense of peace in your chest, but today seemed to have no effect. "We're done, Carol. I think it'd be best if you left, please."

You could practically hear her heart dropping into her stomach. There was a part of you that ached to bring her into your arms and soothe that hurt look off her face. You knew better. That piece of you would fade eventually. You'd learn not to love her anymore. In fact, you could probably learn how to hate her. The boiling rage that was flowing through your very veins could assist you with learning that.

"Please-"

"I'm asking you to go," you said, firmer this time. "Please, get out."

If she'd had a tail to tuck between her legs, she absolutely would have. She didn't even bother to protest again. The expression you'd plastered on your face made it clear it wouldn't have done anything anyway. She slowly made toward the door. Her hand touched the doorknob and she cast her gaze back to you once more. You didn't dare let your features soften. You could've sworn there were tears in her eyes as she turned the doorknob and left.

You breathed out as the door closed behind her, finally daring to let tears streak down your cheeks.

*

You stared down the super soldier, neither of you wanting to speak first. He was the team leader though, and basically your boss. You knew even if he was the first one to speak, you were going to be the one spilling everything. You didn't want to, not one bit, but you knew you were going to have to anyway. You wondered if you had the strength to talk about it. You wondered if he had the strength to listen to your recollection of events.

"I just need to know what happened so when they ask-"

"Fuck, Steve! Natasha fucking died and we're sitting here having this stupid conversation," you shouted, rising to your feet, tossing the papers in front of you off the table, and moving to the window. "I have a goddamn funeral to plan!"

"Look, neither of us wants to talk about this, but we have to!"

You sighed, clasping your hands behind your back as you looked out at the compound grounds. There were agents training, running laps around the building. Sam was the one guiding them, seeming to enjoy barking orders at them. You tore your gaze away from a sight that seemed to have lost its beauty now that Natasha wasn't there alongside the Falcon, chuckling with him as they watched the new recruits huff and puff.

"It was me or her and Carol chose me," you finally gave. "I was what would have been fatally outnumbered and Natasha was down. She was in the jet. Carol could have either gone and stopped the jet from crashing, or she could pull me out and neutralize the enemy. She chose the latter. That's what happened. Happy?"

"I need your report."

"I need to plan Natasha's funeral!"

You stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. You let out the breath that had been stuck in your chest, leaning your head against the wall and shutting your eyes. It hadn't been an easy couple of days. You'd have been surprised if you'd gotten more than three hours of sleep in the last three nights combined. Somehow, though, you still didn't feel tired. You felt a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.

As if losing Natasha wasn't hard enough, you were also grappling with crippling amounts of anger and guilt. Natasha should have been the one that was saved. She was the obvious choice, and yet here you stood, and Natasha was gone. The anger, though? That was all for Carol. She had promised you that her relationship with you wouldn't have affected her at work, but it had. She'd saved you when she should have saved Natasha and all of those people in the impact zone.

"Can we talk?"

Speak of the devil.

You opened your eyes, using your shoulder blades to push yourself away from the wall. Immediately your entire stance got defensive. You crossed your arms over your chest. You watched as she searched your eyes in hopes of being able to read them like she usually did, but knew it would be to no avail. You didn't want her to know anything about what you were feeling. She didn't deserve to know what you were feeling. All she deserved was to be on the receiving end of your rage.

"No. I told you we're done, Danvers. We don't need to talk anymore."

"I'm not letting you go that easy."

"You don't have a damn choice!" You laughed humourlessly. "You can't stop me. You don't own me, and you definitely don't own my heart."

With that, you stepped around her, walking toward the doors of the compound. You could hear her footsteps trailing behind you. You didn't bother to turn around and glance at her, or even open your mouth to tell her to go away. You just let her follow you as if she were going to get something out of you. She wasn't going to. The last thing you wanted to do was hear some sort of failed explanation as to why she'd decided to save you. You knew why. It was because she couldn't separate home and work. You never should have trusted her to be able to.

You stepped out into the sunlight, cursing the sky for being so bright and sunny when it felt like it should be dark and gloomy. A storm cloud and roaring thunder might appropriately match the way you felt inside. Instead, you were forced to pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as you headed back toward your car, feeling you could use the walk toward it instead of making it come to you- a feature Tony has insisted you needed. As you arrived though, Carol finally reacted.

"Jesus Christ, would you hear me out?" She said, anger in her voice as she grabbed your wrist.

"Let go of me."

"Talk to me."

"I already said no. Let go of me," you demanded.

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, glaring at her as she retracted her arm. You unlocked your car, getting into the front seat. You didn't even glance at Carol as you started the engine, put the car into drive, and pulled out of your spot, leaving her behind.

*

It was early when you woke up the next morning, and immediately your day went different than normal. Your eyebrows furrowed when you stepped out of your bedroom and found an envelope slipped under your apartment door. It was completely unmarked. You knew the danger of anything unmarked. You were an Avenger. You couldn't find it in you to care, though. Without Carol's arms around you, you tossed and turned. Losing Natasha hurt so much more without Carol there to hold you through it. But it was her fault.

You reached down and picked up the envelope. You sliced it open with the knife that was resting on the table beside the front door. What you pulled out was a single piece of lined paper. It had clearly been ripped out of someone's notebook, the torn rings hanging off the left side. You unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Carol's handwriting inside. You crumpled it up and prepared to throw it, but then you hesitated.

She wasn't there. You didn't have to talk to her. You didn't want to talk to her one bit, but you were dying to hear her side of the story. This way, you didn't have to risk breaking and losing yourself to emotion in front of her. You uncrumpled the paper and held it out in front of you. You took a deep breath and let your gaze drift over Carol's familiar handwriting once before you moved your eyes to the top of the page.

Y/N,

I really hope you didn't throw this out. I suppose if you're reading this, you didn't.

I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I might not want to talk to me either. Your best friend died and it is entirely and completely my fault. I know that. It is my fault. I could have saved her, and I didn't. I just need you to know why.

I know you think that I broke my promise. I promised you, Steve, and every Avenger, including Natasha, that I would never let our relationship affect our work. It must seem like I failed to do that. I didn't break that promise. I love you. I do. But I wouldn't do that.

I knew that saving Natasha was more likely to be successful than saving you. Saving her would have meant saving those three civilians too. Not saving you, though, meant that they would have gotten away, and it meant they would have killed dozens of our agents on their way out. There were so many of them. They outgunned our men by too much. I didn't do it for you. I did it for them.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't save her. If I could have given my life for hers, I'd have done it in a heartbeat. If choosing her over you had been the right choice, I'd have done it. I promise you that.

I love you, even if you can't love me back.

- C

*

Tears spilled from your eyes as the empty casket was lowered into the ground. When a hand brushed ever so lightly against yours, you stiffened. You glanced for a moment over at the woman beside you. Those brown eyes were locked on you as well, for a moment, before turning back to the burial. You took a deep breath before moving, threading your fingers between hers. You pulled a little closer to her.

Maybe you should have listened to her. That letter you'd received yesterday had been a lot to think about. You'd been so angry with Carol because she'd closed you over Natasha and you'd been selfish enough to think it was because she couldn't separate her feelings for you from work. When you'd found out that wasn't the case, it had taken away all your reason to be angry at her. What happened to Natasha wasn't her fault.

Once the red had faded, you'd realized how stupid you'd been being. Carol had obviously been hurting and you'd been gatekeeping pain because you'd been blaming yours on her. The guilt stewing in her gut was probably millions of times worse than yours. She'd had to make that choice out in the field. It was the right choice, you saw now, but that would never matter. You knew how that felt, and you'd pushed her away and left her to deal with it alone. You wouldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive you for that.

When the funeral ended and people started heading toward the reception, you stayed glued to the spot. You could tell Carol wasn't sure what to do. Her hand had tried to pull away to give you space, but this time it was you that didn't let her leave you. The hand that was in hers tightened enough that she got the message. You had to wonder if she'd stay to hear it. As always, though, she was better than you. Her efforts to move away stopped.

You stayed silent for a moment, standing in that position and wondering what to say. There might not have been words enough to express just how sorry you were. There might not have been anything you could say that would make her forgive you. You deserved that, though. You broke up with her. There was no obligation for her to take you back and you hadn't given her any reason to want to. You were the one who had pushed.

"I'm sorry, Carol," you muttered, knowing full well that wasn't enough. "I'm sorry for everything. I was selfish."

"I get it," she admitted. "It's okay."

She was better than you.

But it wasn't okay. What you'd done to her was far from okay. You'd taken one look at the guilty relief in her eyes after that mission and decided that she'd sacrificed Natasha for you. She was allowed to be relieved. You would have been, if the roles had been reversed. Just because you lost Natasha, didn't mean Carol wasn't allowed to be a little relieved that the love of her life survived. Now, you didn't get to be that.

"Baby... Carol, I just wanted you to know that I read what you wrote and I'm sorry for how I'd reacted. I'm sorry I didn't stop to hear you out before that and I'm sorry I pushed you away when you were obviously hurting."

She dared to pull you a little closer. "You can still call me Baby."

You had to let out a light chuckle at that, despite the tears on your face. You wondered if you were mourning Natasha or your relationship with Carol. Whatever the case, she reached out and brushed the pad of her thumb across your cheek. You couldn't resist leaning a little harder into her hand. She got the message, opening her hand and cupping your cheek, her palm pressing delicately against your skin and her thumb continued to trace your cheekbone.

"You were hurting too," she assured quietly. "You reacted that way because you were grieving. You needed someone to blame."

"It shouldn't have been you."

"I was easy," she said, hands sliding down so they were both in yours. "I could have saved her and I didn't. Whatever reasoning I might have had, that was the truth."

"I'm supposed to love you."

"You don't love me?" She questioned.

"I do! Of course I love you, Carol. But I haven't been great at doing that recently. I should have-"

"You love me and you were grieving your friend. That's it. And I love you too," she said, squeezing your hands. "Can we stop being broken up now?"

She was standing in front of you, a tiny smile on her lips, and forgiving you. She was asking you to take her back, like it wasn't supposed to be you on your knees begging for her forgiveness. You stepped forward, taking your hands out of hers so you could instead put them on her cheeks, and pulled her toward you until your lips had met. She kissed you back immediately, her hands finding your hips. She pulled away from you.

"So yes?" She said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Because Natasha got us together and breaking up for good over her casket would not be honouring her memory very well."

"No, it wouldn't," you said, leaning your head onto her shoulder. You looked down at the wooden casket. "I miss her so much already, Carol."

"I know. Me too, Honey."

Your heart felt the slightest bit lighter now. You would've given anything for Natasha to be okay. The fact that she was gone still felt like a knife through the chest. At least now, though, you had Carol to hold you at night and kiss the tears off your cheeks. She had you to do the same for her. That was all either of you could do. Now, only time could lessen the pain. Carol put her arms around you and held you closer.

Just as you went to tell her once again that you loved her, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the number that was coming from outside the country. She showed it to you and you took the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Did it work? Do they think I'm dead?" Said the so familiar voice.

You glanced up at Carol, sure the shock on her face matched yours.

"Natasha, what the hell-"

"We've got a new mission. Are you and your lovebird up for it?"

Carol kissed your cheek and then spoke to the woman on the phone. "Absolutely."

[christinesficrecs]

Hi Christine! I was wondering if you have any fics similar to “lion among us” or “can’t rely on me” where Stiles is pushed out of the pack, either intentionally or otherwise? Thanks so much for the amazing work you do in keeping this fandom alive!

Sure!

Can’t rely on me by  Littleredridinghunter | 116.2K

The pack let him down, that’s not really a surprise lately.

When Danny finds Stiles nearly bleeding to death the next day it’s the start of a beautiful friendship.

Can the pack make amends before it’s too late? Will Stiles ever forgive them for not being there for him when he needed them the most?

Start Small, Like Oak Trees by  SmallBirds | 24.2K

The months following Allison’s death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he’ll just fade away. He isn’t sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn’t seem so awful. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski’s spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn’t it.

Fixer Upper by  Arsenic | 39.1K | Heavy Angst

After the events of 5a, Stiles is estranged from Scott–and by association, the pack. Derek is off finding himself, or, at least, Germany and some other places. There’s a lot of texting and post cards and then Derek comes back to find Stiles missing. Worse, nobody seems to remember Stiles existing.

Throw Me to the Wolves by  skoosiepants | 13.4K

Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

I Wanna Let Go And Know That I’ll Be Alright | 21.9K | Mature

When Scott tells Stiles to ‘take a step back’ from pack life, Stiles takes it as an invitation to get his life back on track - sans the supernatural.

We’ll be Better Around the Second Time by Cantabo | 26.5K | Mature

Stiles gets pushed out of the pack, hits the road, makes new friends, learns how to grow up, and falls in love.

Lost on you by devilscut | 51.3K | Mature

A deadly encounter with an Alpha changes Stiles’ life forever - kicked out and betrayed by his best friend and brother, Scott McCall, he leaves Beacon Hills, but much to his surprise not alone. Ten years down the track, living a life he never dreamed possible, a chance meeting brings back memories of that night - the good and bad mixed with a whole lotta WTF that even now still has him scratching his head as to what happened.

It seems wasted now by DaaroMoltor | 48.5K

It’s been months. Months of lonely days and lonelier nights. And Stiles can’t understand what he did wrong.

The One You Choose by Livinginfictions | 13.4K | Mature

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc | 35.3K | Mature

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

A Question of Pack by CawCawMF | 5.2K

Stiles had always been sure of his place in the pack. That place being the absolute lowest tier in the hierarchy of werewolf pack dynamics, but he was sure of it all the same. He wasn’t necessary exactly, since just about anyone could conduct research on supernatural mythology, but his job was still important to the pack and he felt good about that. At least, that’s what he always thought. That all came crumbling down one sunny afternoon in the form of Jackson’s big mouth.

Stiles of Leadership by  ConchyJoe | 153.7K

Stiles gets kicked out of the Pack. Let’s see what happens if Stiles fights back

Sparks and shadows by  Nival_Vixen | 21.5K

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

The New Normal by midnightcas | 63.3K

After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.

A Healing Silence by  HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 36.3K

Stiles is slowly pushed out of the pack following his fight with Scott about Donovan’s death. After receiving a phone number from an old friend, Stiles is surprised to find that it belongs to the one person who may be able to bring him back to himself.

Didn’t See That Coming by knittersrevolt | 83.8K | Explicit

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

Love So Hard, It Could Rip My Heart Out by  Lapin | 7.5K

Stiles is seventeen, and his best friend is drifting away, and his dad isn’t speaking to him, so he’s going to make some bad decisions. He’s seventeen and he needs bad decisions to look back on when he’s thirty, and nothing is a worse decision than Derek Hale. He’ll let the Big Bad Wolf in, let him press Stiles down into the couch and he’ll wrap his arms around him and he’ll know it’s a bad choice, but it’s his, and Derek is here when no one else is.

[sevlgi]

you were beautiful

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: amnesia!au, dancer!minho, receptionist!reader who can’t remember him

warnings: mentions of an accident

synopsis: There isn’t much you remember from your old life, but you know someone is missing. When he comes to find you, you have to decide how many memories of the past are worth bringing back.

a/n: lmao please give my fic a chance, i promise it’s worth a read

word count: 7.5k

Deja vu. 

For the longest time, Minho hadn’t understood what the word really meant despite all of Seungmin’s attempts to explain the concept to him. He just didn’t know how something could be so familiar and yet foreign at the same time, could feel like the past despite being the present, and he definitely didn’t believe that he’d ever be able to feel it for himself.

But on a sunny Monday afternoon, being dragged to the hospital by Felix, Minho understands. He feels, and he stumbles onto his friends in front of him.

“Minho hyung, are you okay?” Changbin asks, seeing the look on the dancer’s face. He absolutely would be pushing him back, if it wasn’t for the stricken expression that currently resides on Minho’s face “Hyung?”

“It’s her,” Minho breathes out, his eyes scanning the front of the hospital for the all-too-familiar smile that he’s sure he saw. Felix exchanges a glance with Chan behind his back as Minho bounds up the stairs, panting from the exertion it took to sprint across the courtyard. “It’s Y/N, I know it is--”

Felix frowns, “Y/N? Which one? I know there’s a receptionist working here who’s named Y/N, but...”

“No, you don’t understand,” Minho interrupts, whirling back to face the 3 others. If Jisung or Seungmin were there, Minho would’ve already been ripped to shreds, but Chan, Felix, and Changbin only stare at him worriedly. “My Y/N.”

It clicks in his friends’ minds, and Changbin surges forward to yank the hospital doors open. “It can’t be,” Chan insists, though he follows the other 3 inside. “Minho, Y/N broke up with you and said she was moving to England 2 years ago.”

Shaking his head, Felix sighs, “Okay, wait. Hyung, we have to go see Jisung, the others are waiting there for us. I promise we can go and look later, okay?”

Minho opens his mouth to protest, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hyunjin, probably, calling to make sure that they’re on their way to comfort Jisung about his broken leg. And Minho has never hated the squirrel-cheeked boy more as he sighs and nods, following the others to the reception desk that Felix claims is two halls down.

Of course, it isn’t. “I’m sorry,” the blonde boy sighs and takes his phone out. “I’ll call-- my friend. Hang on.”

He talks lowly over the phone, and Minho has to bite down, hard, on his own lip just to keep himself from running down the hall again. But soon enough, he hears Felix laughing, exchanging hello’s with someone, and he has to turn.

As soon as he does, the thing that he assumes to be deja vu hits him again, and Minho clutches his hand to his stomach. It’s you, in the flesh-- after all, no one would be able to replicate your smile so perfectly, and no one could possibly be able to mimic a face as perfect as yours. Your hair’s different than he remembers, but it’s been years, and--

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, shaking hands with Chan and Changbin before holding your hand out to him. “I’m Felix’s friend, the receptionist.”

“Uh,” Minho manages. Something about the look on his friends’ faces tells him no, that it isn’t the right time, but he can’t exactly stop himself. “Y/N, it’s me. Minho.”

Your smile is confused now, and your hand falters in the air. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Have we met?”

He frowns, stepping slightly forward, though not enough to alarm you. Felix looks panicked behind you, but he’s frozen in place as Minho says, “Don’t- don’t lie to me. Y/N--”

“I’m sorry,” Chan cuts in, stepping between you and Minho. “He... he had an ex, uh, with the same name. I guess you guys look alike too.”

You still look concerned, but you pass it off with a smile and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. Same name, same face? If she wasn’t your ex, I’d like to meet her.”

Changbin laughs for him, tugging Minho forward. “Yeah, it’s really funny. Uh, what room is Jisung in?”

With the prompt, you turn back to Felix and affectionately punch him in the arm before leading the way. Minho’s stomach twists with jealousy; after all, there’s no way two people who look and sound the exact same exist, especially with the same name, and he can’t shake the thought that you are the one he’s been trying to forget. But you make your way to Jisung’s room soon enough, and open the door for the 4 boys. “Here you are. Come get me if you need anything,” you smile, your eyes lingering on Minho for just a second before you leave. Maybe he imagines it.

“Yo, hyungs and Felix!”

Jisung shouts loud enough to distract Minho, and he turns to find the hospital room filled with his friends. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin are crowded onto one tiny sofa, while Changbin has started to annoy them. Felix and Chan crouch by Jisung’s side while he waves and grins at Minho. “You see what Hyunjin has done to me?”

“I did not,” the long-haired boy protests, a tangle of long limbs under Jeongin, who’s basically treating him as part of the couch. “You tried that stupid trick after Seungmin dared you, it’s not my fault.”

“Shut up, both of you, and hand me a pen,” Minho grumbles, sinking to a side beside Jisung’s elevated leg. To be honest, he wants some excuse to see you at the desk again, to listen to your voice and compare it to the one always echoing in his head, but he distracts himself. “I’m drawing a dick and you can’t stop me.”

“Chan hyung,” Jisung whines while he tries to kick Minho away with his good leg. The cast is bright pink, to Minho’s amusement, and it picks up the black of his marker well. “Minho hyung, I’ll never forgive you if you make me walk around with a dick on my leg.”

Minho snickers, “You can’t exactly walk.”

Chan sighs and shoves Minho, though it’s light. “Come on, stop bullying him.”

“I have to go to physical therapy, too,” Jisung pouts. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite all his bravado, Minho just signs his name near Jisung’s ankle, as messy and large as he can make it. “For how long?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jeongin speaks up. “Y/N’s going to come in and tell us, but I really want to go out and ask her.”

Excitement courses through Minho, and he stands up, the pen clattering to the linoleum floor besides his feet. “I can do it. I remember where the reception desk is.”

Felix looks concerned and he asks, “Are you sure you can... handle it? Hyung, I’m friends with Y/N, maybe I should go.”

Minho waves their concerns off, Seungmin leaning in to ask Changbin what happened outside. “I won’t embarrass you, Lix, at least not terribly. I’ll get Hannie’s results, and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he’s out of room 914, the warmth and light inside escapes, and the smell of alcohol burns Minho’s nose. In all his excitement, he had forgotten how much he hates hospitals, hates the way everyone inside only looks one step closer to death. But he peeks around a corner to where he remembers your desk to be and arranges a polite smile on his face as he approaches you. “Y/N?”

“That’s me, how may I--” You pause when you swivel around to him, but the smile reappears soon enough. “Minho, right? You’re done visiting Jisung this quickly?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckles. “Uh, I just heard from the others that they’re still waiting for his results? About how long he has to do physical therapy and stay here?”

You nod at that and pull your keyboard towards you. Gods, you’re so familiar-- the way your tongue pokes into your cheek as you type, the way you narrow your eyes despite being able to see the screen. Minho hates how much he remembers about you. It has to be you, he convinces himself, whether you’re lying about knowing him or not. “Ah. Well, hang on, the system’s a bit slow,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” Minho shrugs. It’s actually exactly what he wants-- time, for him to ask a few simple, nonimposing questions. “So, uh, when did you start working here? I’ve been here a couple times, never saw you.”

“I actually only transferred here last month,” you answer with a smile. “I used to work at the hospital downtown, Lixie met me there.”

“Lixie, huh?” Minho attempts at a smile, but you don’t know him well enough to see that it’s fake. “That’s cute. You guys are close? Did you help him there or something?”

You shake your head, typing something into the computer despite the loading screen. “No, actually, I was a patient at the time. I had amnesia,” you sigh, tapping your fingers on your chin. 

Minho raises his eyebrows. His heartbeat is quickening-- depending on when you had amnesia, it’s a possible explanation for whatever’s happening. “Amnesia. That’s tough. Uh, how’d you get it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” you smile, turning back to him. “It was about two years ago, I think. I got in a car crash, but I got lucky. My cousin was with me, so the doctors knew my name and all my essential information. It would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t know who I was, you know?”

He opens his mouth to ask another question, but he feels an arm slide around his neck. It’s Hyunjin, apparently escaped from the confines of Jisung’s tiny room. “Hi, Y/N,” he greets. “Are we any closer to those results?”

“Just about,” you exhale, standing up. “They’re printing, I’ll go get those for you guys.”

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Hyunjin murmurs, “Chan hyung told me what’s up. So, you think it’s her?”

“I don’t think,” Minho hisses. “I know. She said she got in a car crash and had amnesia two years ago, and it matches up with why she doesn’t recognize me. She still knows her name because of her cousin, and- it’s her, Hyunjin. It has to be.”

Hyunjin hesitates, apparently not as convinced as the older boy. “But if she was with her cousin, wouldn’t she know about you? I mean, if it was me, I’d tell my cousin about the guy she just broke up with.”

Minho almost answers, but you’re back, sliding a file across the table. “Get that to Jisung, okay?” you grin, sitting back down. “And come find me if you need something else. Nice talking to you, Minho.”

Snatching the file away, the younger boy guides Minho back to the room. “Hey. If you really think it’s her,” Hyunjin says softly before opening the door again, “go for it. You still have the texts saved, don’t you? Show her. Even if you can’t help her remember, you’ll get your closure.”

Quietly, Minho shakes his head. “I- I can’t. Even if she never broke up with me-- which isn’t possible-- I can’t know that she’s still here, still alive, and that she’ll never remember me.”

Hyunjin reaches over to shake Minho and argues, “But she hasn’t changed. If she loved you once, she can love you again, okay? Just... just try. For yourself.”

Before he can debate Hyunjin again, Seungmin opens the door with a fake scowl. “Hey, what took you so long?”

“Asshole,” Minho frowns back, glad for something to argue about. Seungmin’s always the perfect one to bicker with, his eye rolls as he backs away to let the two boys in the perfect way to rile Minho up. “Hey, don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

For all of his friend’s glances at him, glances that he lets slip by as he ruffles Jisung’s hair rougher than necessary, Minho can admit to himself that he won’t approach you again, at least not for the purpose of finding out what truly happened. It’s difficult, but he can even admit to himself why he wont.

He’s scared. Terrified, even, that he’ll only find out what he knew all along.

You’re good with faces.

It’s kind of a requirement to be a receptionist; after all, nothing makes people happier than being remembered, even if it’s something as simple as being recognized without an introduction while arriving to physical therapy. Besides, after struggling to get back to your normal life for two years, your biggest fear is to lose your memories again.

So when Jisung gets driven to physical therapy a week after you meet his friends, you instantly recognize his driver.

“Minho,” you smile, waving at him. He flushes for some reason, and you stifle a chuckle at the tint of pink in his pale cheeks. He’s cute; your first meeting just put you off a bit. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t I get a greeting?” Jisung pouts, pushing through with his crutches. He’s joking, of course, so you only laugh fondly. “Well, you know why I’m here.”

You check him in with a nod, and call out after Minho, “You don’t have to stay with him for PT, you know. It’s going to be boring, you can come back out after helping him inside.”

Minho laughs, “Thanks for the tip. I’m definitely not staying with him, I’ll be right out.” Jisung’s protests follow them down the hall, and you return to your keyboard with a soft chuckle.

It’s true that after your first encounter with Minho, you wondered whether there was something about your life before the accident that Dahyun didn’t tell you. But your phone broke in the car wreck, and there must’ve been things that you didn’t tell your cousin. 

However, in the back of your mind, you can still hear the way Minho said your name. ‘Y/N’, he had breathed, so desperately. You had to have been important to him, too important for you to have never told anyone about him, but when he comes out of Jisung’s room, you assume the role of the friendly receptionist once again.

“Hey,” you wave. “Just so you know, Jisung’s scheduled for a full hour. I’m clocking out for the day in a couple minutes, but you can have him text you when he’s done so you can pick him up. I have to get going, I need to eat before I get on the tram, and it’s a long walk from here.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, shuffling his feet. “You’re clocking out?” At your nod, he clears his throat and offers, “If you haven’t eaten yet, I can drive you to the tteokbokki place near the tram station? I can drop you off, I won’t stay with you if you aren’t comfortable.”

You laugh at his awkwardness, though he’s charismatic enough to make it simply cute. “That would be great, actually. Just give me a second.” While you’re gathering your things, Minho shuffles aside, staring outside to the parking lot as if it’s genuinely interesting, and you crack a smile when you approach him. “Hey. I’m good to go.”

“Let’s go, then,” he smiles, and opens the door for you. The more you see of him, the more familiar he feels-- it really is as if you’ve met him before. Even his car feels like you recognize it, the steady thrum of the engine and the feel of worn leather beneath your fingertips something that you can’t quite put your finger on. Minho doesn’t speak much, though he puts on some music that feels vaguely familiar to you, some boy rapping over a simple beat.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the station, and it barely takes a couple minutes to walk down to the tteokbokki place. For some reason, you feel comfortable around Minho, safe, like you’ve felt with Felix and all his friends that you’ve met so far. Maybe the Australian boy attracts all the good people, you smile to yourself, or maybe you do.

“I’ll pay, what do you want?” Minho offers and takes his wallet out. Though you move to protest, he smiles and holds up a hand, “I insist. You’ve had to deal with me this much already, it’s the least I can do. Besides, you’ll be seeing me a lot, with Jisung’s PT.”

You can only agree and watch him rattle off your order to the cashier. Minho’s smile is almost the same for everyone, his eyes curving and his teeth bright, but it’s the eyes that make the difference. It’s interesting. “Are you the only one of Jisung’s friends who can drive?”

“Ah, not really. The 00 liners and Jeongin don’t have their licenses, of course,” he hums and hands his credit card over. “But Channie is busy with work all the time, and Changbin feels like Jisung bullies him. So that leaves me.”

“I see,” you exhale, following him to an empty table. “You must make quite a bit to afford a car and a parking space. What do you do?”

“Me?” Minho clarifies, even though he’s the only one you could be talking to. “I’m a dancer. Mostly a backup dancer, but sometimes I teach classes or choreograph for idols. I don’t make that much, but I drive all over Seoul, so I thought a car would be a good investment.”

“Not a bad decision,” you smile. “Especially since you saved me the walk over here. You know that every time you drive Jisung over, I’ll be forcing you to give me a ride, right?”

You’re joking, of course; you barely know Minho. But something about your tone changes the glance in his eyes, and his grin fades the slightest bit. Suddenly, he moves towards his bag. “C- can I show you something?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “As long as it’s not... you know.”

“You’ve got jokes,” Minho mumbles, digging through the pockets for his phone. “I like that.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, slightly heightened by his frantic scrolling. You greet and thank the ahjussi who brings you your food, still waiting for him to show you. Before he does, though, Minho looks up with a hesitant expression. “Y/N. Whatever I say, you can’t be alarmed, okay?”

“I can’t make that promise,” you shake your head, “but I’ll do my best.”

He inhales-- then exhales. “Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You were born on _ _/ _ _/ _ _ _ _, and you were born here. You attended college at Seoul University, though you’ve probably forgotten your major. Your parents’ names are __ Y/L/N and __ Y/L/N, and your cousin is Kim Dahyun.”

Instantly, you bolt out of your seat, ready to run. “H-how do you know that?” Your voice shakes, and your eyes dart from Minho to the booth. He doesn’t look like a threat-- in fact, he looks pained, biting down on his lip before sliding his phone across the table. “What is that?”

“Just take a look.”

When you gingerly slide your eyes to the screen, you gasp; it displays what you assume to be an old photo of you-- and Minho. You remember Dahyun showing you pictures of yourself with that hairstyle-- high school, she said-- but you definitely don’t remember seeing any pictures with Minho. He’s unmistakable even in the uniform, and you’re laughing at him in a way that suggests what you’ve suspected since meeting him-- you were close, to say the least. “We were... friends?” you whisper, barely daring to meet his eyes. When he shakes his head, you lower your fist, previously held up to punch, and say softly, “We loved each other. Like that.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs, taking his phone back. “By the way, does the date 5/19 ring a bell to you?”

“It was the day I woke up,” you answer. Suddenly, your throat is too tight to swallow, and you take your place next to him cautiously. “They... they told me I’d never get my memories back that day. What does it mean to you?”

Minho bites his lip and hands you his phone again. “It was the day you broke up with me.”

"Lee Minho,” you read aloud, “we need to break up. Ouch, that does not sound like me.”

He winces but tries to play it off with a chuckle, “Yeah, I know. I had to read that.”

“We have dated for years, but we...”

You frown and shake your head, scrolling through the text again even though you’re sure that you didn’t miss anything. “The wording, the phrasing... it doesn’t sound like me.” But that’s you on the profile picture, the exact photo of you that Dahyun showed you to gain your trust that first day in the hospital. You raise your head to look at Minho, who’s still staring at you. “This is fucked up.”

“You’re telling me,” he sighs, plucking his phone away. “I tried to text you back after this, tried to call you, but you never picked up. I did all I could, but I watched you leave. So... I think you understand why I was so desperate when I saw you.”

“I think I do,” you say, with your voice soft. It makes sense, now, why Minho looked like he was seeing a ghost when he caught that first glimpse of your face. Because you were a ghost, at least to him, somehow back from the dead in the lobby of the tiny hospital you worked in. “They told me my phone was dead. That’s why I didn’t have any of my old contacts, or my information.”

Minho fills your silence. “And that’s why you never saw my texts, or heard my calls. I- I’m so sorry, that I blamed you at all.”

You catch his wrist and try to smile, “Hey, I don’t blame you for blaming me. It isn’t possible for me to have texted you this with a broken phone and no memories, so... whoever did text you was an asshole. You can blame them all you like.”

His eyes flick over your face, almost like he’s committing you to memory in case you become a ghost again. “Yeah.” But the alarm rings, ten minutes before the last tram home leaves, and Minho’s phone buzzes at the same time. “Um. Can... can we talk about this again? Next time I see you?”

“Of course,” you answer. Maybe you’ll regret that promise, but you know that you’ll regret it more if you never search for what actually happened. And the glow to Minho’s smile when you say ‘yes’ follows you all the way onto the tram, or more specifically, the look in his eyes.

You’d already noticed that Minho looked differently at different people. His gaze was fond at Jisung, sometimes annoyed, and his eyes crinkled in a polite smile in front of the booth workers or your fellow receptionists. You had just never been able to tell how he looked at you, because it was strange, an expression you didn’t recognize.

But staring at his newly-inputted contact on your phone, you realize what it is. Minho looks at you like he knows you inside out, like he loves you more than anything else in the world. 

And you aren’t sure which is worse.

Felix isn’t a good liar; from the first time you met, and he told you that you didn’t look horrible in that grimy hospital gown of yours, you knew that he’d never be able to keep a secret. So when you don’t know how to move forward from the whole other side of yourself that you just uncovered, he has to be the first one you talk to.

“Y/N!” He shouts your name with his hands cupped around his mouth despite only being a couple feet away from you, and he plops down onto the stool next to you. “What’s up?”

“Felix, what has Minho told you about me? Or, about Y/N?” He tenses up at the question, and you can’t blame him; you usually aren’t so direct, and it must be difficult to tell you about his friend’s secrets.

But Felix bites his lip and sighs, looks up at the ceiling as if it’ll tell him what to do. “Um, well... he said you guys were classmates. High school and college, but you only started dating when you were 17. He never showed me pictures of you, so I assumed that you hurt him really bad.” You wince at that, but motion for the Australian boy to continue. “Minho hyung... he never dated while I’ve been friends with him. We all thought it was because he was never over you, and I guess he still isn’t.”

“Well, shit,” you sigh, sinking into your hands. “I feel horrible now.”

“Why?” Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “He said that you didn’t think it was you who sent the text, and Dahyun just didn’t tell you about him? It’s not your fault.”

You only shake your head hopelessly and attempt to explain, “I didn’t want to get back into this. I trusted Dahyun to tell me everything, and after 2 years, I find out that I had a boyfriend? Who I ‘broke up with’, and who I hurt really bad. I have to know now, for Minho’s sake if not for mine.”

Felix sighs, “Look, Y/N, I’m sure Minho hyung will understand if you don’t want to get into it all again. He- he loved you, but I think he knows you aren’t who used to be. I think.”

“No, Felix- he never told me that he wanted me to find the answer,” you say quietly. “I just... I can see that he’ll never be able to disassociate me with the Y/N he knew. My face, my mannerisms- Dahyun says I act the same as I used to, and that’s too painful for him if we’ll never know the truth.”

He pauses, then passes you the coffee that a barista slides across the counter. Maybe Felix doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to tell you. But he murmurs in his familiar deep voice, “You’re kind, Y/N, but you have to think about yourself, okay? It’ll hurt Minho to not know, but it’ll hurt you to find out. And I don’t want to see either of you with a broken heart.”

The next time you see Minho, you find yourself analyzing every one of his movements, as if the tiniest hint of familiarity will bring your memories of him back to you.

You’re only drinking coffee together and trying to act like nothing else is between you, but you’re staring at his hands when he cracks his knuckles every so often. You wish that the way his lips curl into a smile was familiar, and you wish you recognized the way his eyelashes frame the brown of his eyes. But as much as you think you’ve seen something before, the fact remains that you barely know a single thing about Minho, while there’s nothing about you that you can hide from him.

It’s been years since you hated how little you remembered. Back when you first learned that the first twenty years of your life had been wasted, you screamed out for whatever all-seeing being to restore your life, and you had no idea if you could go back to the life you had been living with absolutely no memory of it.

Dahyun said she showed you everything. She brought you back to your family home, told you what she could about your parents, who hugged you with tears in their eyes. You stayed there at first, but you couldn’t handle the glances that your family made at you, couldn’t handle the way they still mourned the loss of their daughter.

You didn’t know enough about what used to be to miss it. But when you speak to Minho, you realize that there is something you would miss, something that you would want to chase. And so, you can’t know what it is.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asks, the smile still on his face from telling you about the cats you helped him pick out when he got his own place.

Shaking your head, you nod. “Yeah, sorry for zoning out. I’m just... thinking.”

“About what to do, right?” Minho takes your silence for agreement, and he turns to the window with a sigh. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking too. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, I was selfish not to think how it would make you curious about your old self.”

“No,” you sigh. “I get it. You had to tell me, I imagine it’s still painful to see my face.”

Minho shakes his head, tilting his head as if that’ll let him see more of you. “No, it isn’t painful at all. I see you analyzing me, though, trying to recognize me.”

Heat rises to your ears, and you try to hide it by flicking your eyes away from his face. “Was I that obvious? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Minho.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. He cracks his knuckles again; you imagine that you used to put your hands over his to get him to stop, but you brush the thought away as fast as you can. “What do you want to do, though? It’s too difficult to stay away from each other in a town like this, especially when we have a mutual friend. But I’ll try my best to do what you want me to.”

You bite your lip and tap your hands on your knee. To be truthful, you’ve known what you wanted to do for a long time; you know exactly what you want to say, and you know who you want to say it to. “I want us to talk to Dahyun,” you answer. “I think... I can’t ask her about it. But I want to see how she reacts to seeing you.”

When he doesn’t respond, you almost move to touch his arm. “Minho? You can tell me if you don’t walk to talk to her, I won’t force you to do it.”

But he turns, tries to disguise the rueful smile on his face. He fails, of course, and you draw your hand back. “No, I... I’m sorry, that just reminded me of something. I’ll come with you.”

“Okay. I’m going to lunch with her tomorrow,” you explain, scrolling through the calendar on your phone, “and I think that’s the time. I’ll just say you’re my friend or something, and we’ll see how she reacts.”

Minho frowns, “Is it suspicious to randomly bring a friend to lunch with your cousin? Or do you do that often?”

You sigh at that and pause your scrolling to think. “No, you’re right. I think I’ll have to say you’re my boyfriend or something, then she’ll be excited to expect you.”

“Boyfriend? How do you know I’m not dating someone already?” Minho jokes. You laugh lightly and push his arm without thinking, but his smile only grows as he protests, “I’m serious! Do you not think I’d be dating someone by this time?”

“I see the way you look at me,” you chuckle, “If you were dating someone, I’d feel bad for them.”

Silence settles again, and you wince, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, should be me that’s sorry,” he mumbles, ruffling his hair. “I shouldn’t be making you uncomfortable, I know that you’re a different person at this point. Uh, could you send me the location of the restaurant? And the time?”

You recognize his attempt to change the subject, and you accept it gratefully. “Yeah. It’s noon tomorrow, but I think we should arrive together.”

“I’ll pick you up from the hospital,” he smiles, moving to crack his knuckles yet again.

Maybe it’s out of nervousness, maybe it’s just a habit, but you move to stop it this time, your hand resting gently over his. “Stop that,” you mumble to hide the heat in your cheeks. “I read somewhere that it hurts your knuckles. You’ll get arthritis.”

“You work in a hospital, you should know that that isn’t how it works,” Minho snickers, but he doesn’t move your hands off him. Strangely, this feels familiar, like you’ve done it before, like it’s always been comfortable. So you don’t move, only sip your coffee with your spare hand and try not to think about what could’ve been.

Minho opens the door for you yet again, bowing slightly when you pass through the doorway. “She’s here already, yeah?” His voice is soft when he speaks to you, and his hands in his pockets when he catches up to you again in the restaurant. He’s the picture of calmness, except for the way his eyes flick around the restaurant like he can recognize your cousin before you do. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

“She went to the same school as us, didn’t she?” you mumble, looking through your texts again for the table number Dahyun texted you. “She’s a year younger, she told me.”

“Yeah, but Dahyun hung out with us a lot,” Minho explains, “she was pretty cool. Funny, too, I don’t know if she’s showed you her eagle dance yet?”

You laugh at that, turning onto the stairs. “She has, actually. Made me laugh instead of cry. I appreciate that about her.”

Dahyun’s easy enough to recognize; her hair’s bright blue among a sea of dark-haired people seated at the tables, and she’s a good head shorter than the people who sit around her. You rush up from behind her and wrap your arms around her neck, almost putting the girl in a headlock. “Y/N,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she struggles against your grip. “Get off, I’m here to see your boy--”

Her smile instantly disappears when she sees Minho, but she rearranges it quick enough to bow to him. “Hi. I’m Kim Dahyun, Y/N’s cousin.”

So she wants to play like that. You give Dahyun another squeeze before sitting next to Minho on the other side of the table. “So, this is my boyfriend, Minho. What do you think?” you joke, keeping your tone as light as you can.

“He’s cute,” Dahyun answers. Usually, she’s good at keeping a hold of herself, but her voice sounds stifled this time, like she wants to lean over and punch him in the face or something. “I... Y/N, where’d you guys meet?”

Minho steps in to answer, “At where she works in the hospital. I keep dropping my friend off for PT, and I just keep seeing her.” That part’s true, at least, though you’re surprised at how charismatic and natural Minho seems while he lies. “She told me how she started working at the hospital downtown after being treated there, so I guess that’s how I never saw her before.”

Dahyun sighs, “Do you know what she was treated for?”

“Amnesia,” he frowns, “what else? Y/N told me that when we first met.”

A beat of silence passes, and you’re almost sure that Dahyun can see right through your lies, but your thoughts are cut off when she blurts out, “You’re lying, right? Minho, I don’t know if you’re lying to Y/N or if the both of you are lying to me, but you can’t be... you can’t be telling everything about this. She broke up with you years ago.”

“We all know that’s not true,” you say softly. Maybe there’s a hint of deadliness to your tone, though, because when you lean forward, Dahyun scoots back in her chair. “You told me my phone was dead on the day I woke up, the day that the texts were sent. How could I have sent those texts, from a shattered phone, without the contact that you wouldn’t tell me?”

The blue-haired girl presses her lips together, but she says, “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of here.”

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Minho shakes his head. “But we have to know. What happened here?”

Dahyun’s voice is almost too quiet to hear when she finally answers, “Minho, you would’ve been wrecked. And- letting her know that she would never be able to remember you... would’ve wrecked her more.”

You can’t keep your voice from getting louder when you ask, “So?” Minho squeezes your hand and you soften before saying again, “So? What did you do, Dahyun?”

“I texted him in place of you,” she blurts, clasping her hand over her mouth. Her eyes must reflect the hurt you feel, because you lash back when she reaches for you. “I... I never told you about Minho or any of your friends. I’m sorry, Y/N, I did what I thought was best, and all these years, I didn’t know... I didn’t know how I could fix that.”

Minho says nothing close to what you think he will, and he’s nowhere near as angry as you are. “I know why you did it, Dahyun,” he says. There are tears brimming in your cousin’s eyes, and you’re sure that Minho’s doing his best not to let them spill. “But- you knew me, knew Y/N. I don’t think you should’ve made that decision for us.”

“You definitely shouldn’t have,” you almost snap. You stand, tugging Minho up with you by his hand. “I... We have to go. I just need time to think, Dahyun.”

And if you were thinking rationally, you’d never leave like that. You’d never leave a conversation half-finished, with an angry end, but you can’t concentrate about anything other than the warmth of Minho’s hand in yours as you storm out of the restaurant.

Once you are hidden in an alleyway, he holds you by your elbows, as if he’s trying to stop you from running away. “Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me.”

When you do, you’re surprised at how blurry his face is, the shadows and highlights of his face swirled together in your tears. “We know now,” Minho continues. “I know you’re hurt right now, but I just want to say that you don’t have to know what to do now. You... we have time to think about what we can say about that information.”

“Stop,” you cry out, tearing your hands out of his grip to press them to your eyes. “Stop being so good to me. I know you only remember how much you loved the old me, and we have the same face, but we aren’t the same, Minho, you don’t love me. So- you don’t have to be so good to me just because you used to--”

He pulls you into a hug. It’s a bit aggressive, and you collide with him a little harder than you would in a normal hug, but against his chest, you can hear the sobs that he stifles in case anyone’s listening. “I’m not doing this because I used to love you, Y/N. I’m doing this because I think I can love you again.”

“That’s worse!” You push him away slightly, just enough to untangle yourself and your own heart. “Minho, that’s so much worse. You- you’ll never love me, you know. You’ll never stop seeing that Y/N in me. I just. I need to think.”

For the second time in that day, you end another conversation like you never would, but you keep your head down to hide the tear tracks on your face. There’s nothing you can say without hurting someone you seriously care about, no matter how much you wish you didn’t care about either of them.

You do. God, you do, and it hurts so much.

Jisung hobbles his own way into the lobby. He’s fast on his crutches, actually, and he almost doesn’t need you rushing to open the door for him. “Hey,” you smile, though you’re sure that your eyes are still puffy under your makeup. “Alone today?”

“Hyungs are all busy,” he pouts, though he obviously doesn’t really mind. “Y/N, have you checked your email recently?”

“Uh. No?” you answer, raising your eyebrows as you guide him down the hall. “Why? Did you send me something weird?”

He moves the crutch to smack the back of your leg, grinning even when you poke him as hard as you can without literally hurting him. “No. But there’s something in there I think you’ll want to see. I’ll see you in an hour, Y/N, hopefully.”

All of Jisung’s cryptic messages leave you scowling at the closed PT door, then frowning all the way back to your desk. You click fast through your inbox and ignore all the other messages for the one at the top, the one from j.one@naver.com, entitled ‘ywb’.

It’s a video message, and when you click on it, Jisung appears. “Hi, Y/N. I’ll keep this short,” he smiles through the screen. “But this message isn’t really from me. No matter what, I want you to watch the whole thing, can you promise me that?” You nod even though he’s in a whole different room, and he flashes a thumbs up like he can see it. “Cool. Enjoy, and try not to cry.”

The screen goes black, then flashes to a girl running through the snow. But she turns, and you gasp, because it’s you-- it’s a beanie and a scarf that you still own, sitting in your closet, but it’s a smile that you have only seen in pictures. And when you see the look in your eyes, you know who has to be behind the camera, and as much as you wish you wouldn’t, you’ve promised, and you keep watching.

Because every time that the outfit and the scene changes, your smile stays the same. You only see flashes of a hand, the peal of laughter under the soft music layered over, but you know. It has to be Minho, and you almost yearn to be the person in the videos again, grinning at him like there’s nothing else you can think of.

Slowly, he starts appearing in the video too, just flashes of the two of you singing at the top of your lungs in a karaoke booth, a short clip of you squirting him right in the face with a water gun. And the smile from the video makes its way onto your face, completely unconscious as you stare at the video.

Hours could’ve passed in minutes, and you wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t break from your trance until the screen goes dark again. But this time, Minho’s face appears, his features lit by a bright desk light in the darkness of his room. “Hi, Y/N,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Thank you for watching this far. Uh... I just wanted to show you those videos. Because I just deleted them.”

He hums for a second before continuing, “I realized you were right. As long as I hold on to who you used to be, I’ll never be able to truly love you right now, even though I really want to. You aren’t the same person as you were, and even though you might not think so, I want to know you right now.”

Minho’s eyes curve sweetly when he reaches for the camera and fiddles with it. He smiles, “So if you can believe me, I want to take those videos again, with you this time. I’m more than willing-- no, I want nothing more than to get to know you again. So just... call me. Whenever you see this. I don’t really trust Jisung to get this to you in time.”

You manage to laugh through the blurriness in your eyes, but you’re already moving to pick up your phone when the video ends, Minho’s hand the last thing you see on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” You can hear something in the background, probably the other people in his studio, but they get quieter as Minho talks. “I guess you watched it?”

“I watched it.” You save the video to the drive always plugged into the laptop, but there’s a small smile on your face as you imagine Minho staring into the mirror of the dance room as he talks to you. “How fast can you get here?”

“Uh. It takes 5 minutes to drive to you, so you can expect me in 10,” he answers. The smile on his face is audible, and your own grin grows when he covers the mic to shout at someone. “I won’t look gross, promise. But, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

He ends the call before you can say anything in return, but you smile at the phone screen all the way until you poke your head around the corner to shout at Seulgi. “Hey! I’m clocking out in 10!” Maybe the grin in the video is familiar after all as you reach for your bag.

While you’ll never get your past back, there’s always the future. You will never get the perfectly fresh start you want, but it’s a start nonetheless. It’s the step towards something new that you’ve been needing, and it’s with the person that you never thought you’d find again.