#and yet how everyone is capable of change - of regretting their past and working to be better

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 10

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : Thank you so much for all the love you all are giving this series! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Give me Something I Want”

Wednesday.

In the days that followed Yelena’s ultimatum, Bucky felt a strange, quiet storm churning beneath the life he’d finally allowed himself. 

For the first time in years, he felt a sense of warmth, of peace—something he’d only dreamed about, something that had always felt out of reach. 

He had you. And he could feel the calmness like he hadn't felt before every time you looked at him, every time your hand slipped into his, every time you said his name with a kind of gentle joy he’d thought he’d never deserve.

Even after that little bicker on Monday night, you had found your rhythm again, choosing to trust him instead.

He’d spent so many nights alone, haunted by the weight of his own memories, terrified of what he was capable of, of who he had been. 

But you… you made him feel like he was worth saving. 

But even as he kissed your hair and let himself sink into the couch cushions, he could feel Yelena’s judgement hanging over him like a ghost. The truth clawed at him, the bitter memories whispering reminders of the damage it could do if found out, if you knew the version of him that had once pushed you away, that had built walls so high he didn’t know how to tear them down, could you still look at him with that same kind stare? Would you pull away, realising that you’d only seen a sliver of the man he’d been, that the rest was buried in regrets and choices he wasn’t proud of?

His mind flashed back to that moment with Yelena, her voice leaving him exposed, vulnerable. Her words echoed in his head, haunting him. 

But she didn’t understand— she couldn’t possibly. Because you now looked at him with love and adoration. He wasn’t ready to lose that, to lose you.

Thursday.

The next morning, he found himself watching you as you slept, the barest light tracing your features. His heart twisted in a strange, painful mix of love and fear. 

He would carry the burden of his past alone, if it meant he could keep the life he’d found in you. 

He kissed your forehead, his lips as light as a feather, making a silent promise to himself: he would protect you from the pieces of himself that might hurt you, no matter what it cost him. And if Yelena tried to break that fragile peace, he’d deal with her when the time came. But for now, he’d stay right here, holding onto this one thing that finally felt real.

As he lay beside you, he repeated it in his mind like a vow: She will never know.

Friday.  

The mission briefing room pulsed with red lights and bright screens, though everyone else seemed blind to it. 

Maybe you just weren’t used to it yet.

Around you, the team was busy with logistics, preoccupied with tactical details, terrain-view maps, and contingency plans. 

You felt Bucky shift beside you. He was always a watchful presence beside you, like a human shield. Across the table sat Sam, Clint, and Yelena, their expressions locked in concentration. Bucky, however, had hardly looked up. His gaze remained trained on the table, his fist clenched in a way that made the way that made your heart flip.

Sam lifted his eyes to meet yours. “You’re ready for this,” he said, his tone firm. “Your specialisation on ancient artefacts makes you the only one who can get close enough without setting off every alarm in the place.” He gestured to the screen, where a high-definition image of a weapon gleamed with an eerie allure—a golden blade encrusted in cryptic symbols, the metal gleaming as if alive, exuding a faint glow that seemed neither earthly nor entirely comprehensible to the human mind.

“Our intel says it’s magical,” Sam continued— he had consulted with Strange, and he didn't even seem too sure. “Or at the very least, powerful enough to be a real threat if it falls into the wrong hands. We need you to get in there, identify it, and secure it before anyone else does. Clint and Yelena will be on backup. They’ll be ready to extract you the second something goes wrong.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline flooding your veins— one you couldn't tie to a memory. This was the kind of mission you’d trained for, the kind that made you a candidate for the Avengers in the first place.

Then you felt it—a small but telling movement. Bucky’s hand had moved, his fingers curling tighter into a fist, the hum of machine coiling around his metal arm. A worry flashed in the back of his eyes that held the barely-contained force of a storm. His eyes were locked on the photograph of the weapon, his entire body straightening as if bracing against a blow.

He finally spoke. “No.”

The single word shattered the room. The others fell silent, every gaze snapping toward him, the low hum of conversation extinguished as if a candle had been snuffed out. His tone was final. 

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness he exuded.

What?

The single word spiked confusion, breaking through your focus. Bucky was rarely vocal when he was around the entire team— but  he was never like this. His expression was hard now, carved with an intensity that seemed almost primal, as though he could see the danger you’d face from a mile away.

Sam’s brows drew together. “What?” he started, his voice calm but tinged with caution. He had the terrain intel for you, every dip of the landscape, But Bucky’s objection was a territory none of them had mapped.

As you looked up, Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you now, as if he were silently urging you to see what he did—to feel the risk that he alone seemed to sense.

His jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth. When he finally met Sam’s demanding stare, there was a flicker of vulnerability, an urgency that softened his hard edges. 

“She’s not ready,” he said, in a rumble so low that a chill ran down your spine. “We haven’t covered everything yet. There’s more we need to work through.”

Clint leaned forward. The look on his face was half a challenge, half a curiosity. “Bucky, you were the first to tell us she’s ahead of schedule. Hand-to-hand, stealth—you said it yourself, she’s exceeded every target.” His voice was level, but a hint of irritation crept up his throat.

Sure, Clint might not have as much of a … hands on approach as Bucky did, but he oversaw your training, too.

And he knew you were ready,

Bucky shook his head. It was his human hand that flexed into a fist this time, the knuckles turning white. 

“I want more time,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “The mission should be postponed. That’s all I’m asking.”

Bucky radiator of the fear he was struggling to mask. 

“I trust your judgement, Bucky,” Sam’s arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowing. "But she’s proven that she’s capable. She’s kicking my sorry ass week in week out and you know she’s ready.”

“I just want more time,” He repeated in a rasp, his eyes darkening. 

Time. 

That was all he wanted. 

All he ever wanted with you.

More time, to fix every weak spot, to be sure you were shielded against every possible threat. More time to prepare you for the dangers you couldn’t yet see. More time to hold you in his arms before anything— this mission or Yelena— took you away from him.

But time was slipping away. 

Sam looked over at you, assessing, maybe even waiting to see what you thought. You’d been eerily quiet, a mixture of awe and nerves keeping you planted to your chair. This was your first mission briefing after getting back into training, after all. You hadn’t learned the cadence of these discussions yet, hadn’t learned the proper flow of conversation.

“One week wouldn't hurt,” you murmured, your voice steady, though a knot twisted in your chest. 

Bucky’s breath hitched as the words one week left your lips, echoing in his mind like a warning. The phrase cut through him, pulling him back to Yelena’s voice, low and sharp as she’d said it to him just days before: One week, Barnes. You have one week to tell her everything or I will.

He glanced across the table, his eyes landing on Yelena. Her stare was unrelenting, almost predatory. The corners of her mouth quivered in a faint, insincere smile, and her eyes locked onto his with a dark promise, a reminder of the ultimatum she had made—an ultimatum that only had two days left on the clock.

Bucky felt a dread gnawing at him, knowing that both clocks were now ticking down faster than he could stop it.

Sam glanced between the two of you. This time. His eyes were kinder, more understanding.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But only for a week. After that…” He gave a smile that reassured your confidence. “It’s yours.”

Relief surged through Bucky, though he buried it beneath a mask of calm indifference.

As the meeting wrapped up, everyone began to leave the room. As you stood to leave, you caught a look from Yelena, her face shadowed by a faint trace of sadness. She lingered by the door, though she said nothing. 

You looked down, an unexpected pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. You assumed that Yelena was disappointed in you, in delaying the mission.

You hadn’t meant to slow anyone down. You had trained relentlessly, preparing for a moment like this, but Bucky’s resistance had meant something to you. 

You had grown to trust him more than anyone in your fragile existence. If he said no, he must’ve had a reason.

—

When you were finally alone with Bucky back at your apartment, a tension thrummed between you. You turned to him, crossing your arms, unable to hold back the frustration and confusion threatening to bubble over. 

“I was ready for that mission,” you said. “I am ready.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. You could see the struggle in his eyes, a potion of protectiveness and love. “It’s… not that simple,” he replied reluctantly. His cheek ones flexed, and for a moment, he looked at you with a vulnerability that made you weak.

“Not that simple?” you echoed, pressing an explanation out of him. “I agreed to a week because you were worried, not because I thought I wasn’t ready. You’re always so… protective, but I need you to trust me.”

He nodded, his human hand reaching out to touch your arm, comforting himself through the contact. His thumb traced gentle circles. “I do,” He hesitated, the admission heavy on his tongue. “I need you here. Just… a little longer.”

The honesty in his words softened your frustration. His hand tightened on you, his voice dropping to a raw, vulnerable whisper. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

The words hit you hard, and for a moment, you stood there and shared his worries. You lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of stubble under your fingers, his eyes flickering closed.

“Bucky,” you whispered, gently pulling him closer. Your arms slid around his neck, and you felt him relax almost instantly. A quiet sigh slipped from his lips as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice soft as your lips brushed over his cheek. “But sooner or later, you’ll have to let go.”

Bucky’s metal arm slid around your waist, his forehead pressing gently against yours. He held you like he was memorising every detail, the sound of every breath you took. 

Then his mouth found yours in a kiss that carried everything he couldn’t put into words. His hands moved up your back, tracing slow, warm circles that left a trail of heat along your spine. You felt his fingers graze your skin, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch sending shivers through you as he pulled you closer, pressing you against the marble counter.

Each kiss, each touch, was a confession, an apology, a plea. Still, you felt the distance he kept, a part of himself he still couldn’t share.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested on yours. His breaths were uneven, his gaze heavy-lidded with something that looked awfully a lot like grief. 

“I will,” he promised, his voice growing thin. “I just need more time.”

You nodded, brushing your thumb along his cheek, meeting his gaze with warmth, understanding. “One week,” you whispered back, a soft smile lifting your lips. You leaned in, kissing him again, your touch lingering, giving him the reassurance he so desperately needed

When you said it, your voice was soft, filled with warmth and reassurance. But in his mind, the words twisted, dragging him back to the way Yelena had said them—sharp and unforgiving.

One week.

Your tone was gentle, a promise. Hers had been relentless and ruthless, a threat. He couldn’t shake it, the way she had cut into him, a grim countdown echoing in his mind no matter how hard he tried to focus on you.

You sighed, breathing in his scent, wondering what he was thinking about.

Could you really blame him? Of course he cared. Of course he was worried. 

The last time you’d been sent on a mission, you came back with four years of your life wiped clean, whole chapters of memory erased like pages torn from a book. 

You didn't voice it, but you often found yourself wondering about those lost fragments of your life, the memories that had slipped through your fingers. What were they? Who have you been? 

Bucky had never given you straight answers. All he ever said was that before all this, he was your friend. But there was something in his eyes that suggested more. 

You wondered sometimes,  if the two of you had been more than friends before… Had you been lovers, too, the way you were now?

It was easy to imagine it, the way his body curved so naturally onto yours.

But he wouldn’t tell you, and his reluctance left you with an aching sense of being incomplete. 

Sometimes you wondered if losing all that time hurt him more than it hurt you.

Maybe the thought of reliving them, of watching you live without the memories you both carefully curated together, hurt him too much. 

And even if Bucky were to tell you everything—the names of places you’d been, the details of nights spent together, the whispers you might have shared—it would still be just that: information. Facts without feelings. 

No context behind what you did and why you did it. 

In that moment, his body leaned into yours as if he could delay time, press pause, keep the world at bay for just a little longer. 

But deep down, he knew this was temporary. 

He knew Yelena wouldn’t wait forever. Two days, maybe less, and everything he feared would come crashing in.

Even if he managed to talk her out of it, he had a week until you had to go on the mission.

—

Later that night, Bucky sat in the dim glow of his phone, eyes fixed on the unsent message he’d typed to Yelena.  

Can we talk?

He was planning to convince her, to beg her if he had to, anything to stop her from telling you the truth. At the very least, he wanted her to hold off for a little longer.

He had an excuse now—the mission. The argument was already forming in his head. “She’s going on a mission in a week,” he’d tell her. “Do you really want her distracted with all of this?” 

It was a flimsy shield to hide behind, but maybe it would buy him time. Maybe he could just keep buying time.

Because for you, he’d pay anything.

With a weary sigh, he deleted the message. 

Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll talk to Yelena in person, face to face. Maybe if she saw how much this meant to him, she’d hold her silence a little longer. Maybe she’d understand.

But as Bucky’s screen went dark, your phone buzzed in the other room.

You glanced down at your phone, surprised to see a message from Happy:

Hey! Had my assistant compile all the security footage of you from the last three years at the compound. You’re welcome to come by and watch it whenever you’re ready.

-to be continued…

Taglist :

 @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

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@avatarofthetimelords @lumidotexe @oscarissac2099 @currentfacination @pono-pura-vida

@blackbirdwitch22 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @ayayaeyato @btssaysstudy @unaxv

@otterlycanadian @lifeisbutadream444 @mostlymarvelgirl @ozwriterchick @m1cky-y-y

@ordelixx @jadeofspadesxp @generousmiraclebread @jeremyrennermakesmesmile@titasweetandsour 

@one-lengthiness36 @chimchoom @waitingformysandman @blackhawkfanatic @chaotic-taco-collector-blog

@aurysartstudio @olive-main @purplecolordeer @mrsnikstan @annoyingrebelsoul

@sunnyhummingbee @onelonelybitch @angelichwv @hello-lisa1026 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 

@vickie5446 @portrait-ninja @trocaderoisyummy @walkwithfluffyangels @torntaltos

@dogtorjae @hhiggs @hi172826

[littlehollyleaf]

So. Those Dead Boy Detectives, huh?

[reaperlight]

Last line game!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Thanks @krisseratops for the tag! Oops, instructions unclear, I just plopped in a recent piece of wip I was working on (and added to it without thinking 😅

[Context: A scene of dramatic irony of Eddie, while drinking, getting righteous about Anne working for Drake post-breakup and ranting to Cletus (who in this au was never caught, is Eddie's friend, and Eddie does not yet know is an ACTUAL killer...)]

Eddie: She lied to me. Honestly fuck her for protecting him. I might as well welcome a *murderer* into my life.

Cletus, [looking uncomfortable]: Maybe she thought she had a good reason to keep it from you? It was her job wasn't it? Eddie, she trusted you. Even if you felt you had good cause that's not the point. She most likely felt like you violated that trust.

Eddie: God, I miss her so much. I want her back--

Cletus: Do you really want her back? Or do you want the idea of her? It sounds like you couldn't accept her. Her profession. Why would that change if you got back together? Relationships are about compromise--

Eddie: Like you'd know-- [instant regret] Shit I'm so sorry. That was a low blow and completely out of line.

Cletus: Yes it was. [sighs] Look Eddie, I know because I've read every self help book out there. Because I know I'm fucked up. But I want to be ready and capable of being the man she needs and deserves when I find her again. It doesn't matter how fucked up you are, what you've done in the past. You can do better moving forward. I've gotta believe that. I do believe that. For me, and for you.

Eddie: Okay... yeah, okay.

Cletus: I know you thought you were doing the right thing. And honestly, you were. In a just world you would have been rewarded instead of getting fucked over for trying to help people. But the world ain't just and also you gotta see it from her perspective. From Anne's point of view whatever your reasons you still violated her trust and, as far as she's concerned, you got yourself and her fired for nothing. You really should apologize to her if you wanna have any kind of relationship with her in the future.

Eddie: So you think I was wrong to try and go against Drake?

Cletus: No. Hell no, you weren't wrong. In fact I'm proud of you. Few people would have the guts. But you just need to be more strategic about these things, you know? Gotta remember the consequences. What is my objective here, what might it cost me? Or the people close to me? Like hypothetically if I strangled everyone that annoyed me I would be in jail right now. You gotta at least make sure they can't trace it back to you.

Tagging, if you wanna do it...

@galadhir @ruindunburnit @pulchrasilva @pyreneese @symbiotic-slime @hell-if-i-know-dudette @rodeokid @harperhug @purple-slimy @frankenbolt

[frazzledsoul]

A while back @saltygilmores directed me to an AYITL era interview with Milo I thought was interesting. Milo had infamously said on a talk show (Jimmy Fallon, I think) that it mattered less if Jess were "Team Jess" than if Jess were "Team Rory". I thought that meant that Jess would be supportive of whatever was best for Rory, but....

...it appears that's maybe not exactly what he meant. Milo doesn't encourage the ship because he doesn't think Rory would be good for Jess because of how she hurt him in the past. Also he would rather have you talk about whatever he's working on now and please shut up about the baby daddy questions, please.

There's been a lot of speculation (here and elsewhere) on Milo coming back to film a Literati-centered sequel to AYITL over the years. I've heard it said often here that Milo was unhappy that Jess didn't win the ship war. I was told so many times over the years that Milo and Amy were just waiting for This Is Us to finish so they could film a follow-up, that Milo intentionally planned for The Company We Keep to be a one-season show so he could run back and film AYITL 2, etc. but the truth is....he's not a shipper. He thinks it was great that Jess went off and became a better person and formed a great life on his own and was an inspiration to Rory to change her own life. But he doesn't think it's in Jess's best interest to reconcile with her. He wants him to keep his own happy ending, where he's happy and mature and well-adjusted. And he's right.

I think recently with the proliferation of podcasts and clickbait media writing about the show that AYITL is seen as something that's not quite canon, and people have given up on the sequel. Which I actually think is a positive development. There have been rumors that Milo wouldn't film any romantic scenes with Alexis in AYITL, that Alexis shut down AYITL 2 talks because she didn't want to be involved in it...all of that is neither here or there, because I think everyone's accepted that it's over. So the story won't be concluded any more than it already has been, except in our heads.

As for Jess, the insistence that he's the sole threat to Rory's well-being the first time he tries to reconcile with her and that he's the destructive or morally inferior force that's going to bring her down is a very inaccurate interpretation of the situation. Running away together was not a good idea, but neither was Rory sleeping with a married man and helping destroy someone else's marriage...and she is primarily so cruel and dismissive of Jess because she's hurtling towards that adulterous affair that she imagines will validate and affirm her and Jess is going to get in the way. Just because Dean lied and manipulated her into it doesn't mean what she was doing wasn't already wrong, nor does it excuse her actions or the fact that she didn't regret what she did for years. The fact that she didn't make this mistake single-handedly doesn't mean she wasn't responsible for her role in it.

So, yes, she hurt him instead of gently saying no and backing away from Dean before anyone else got damaged by her behavior with him. He took that hurt and made a great life for himself but when he meets her again on fresh terms as an adult and she uses him again...yeah, it's not in his best interest to try again unless Rory has changed her behavior and isn't going to use him as one more competing figure in her endless love triangles. He changed and she didn't, at least not in the way that would make him believe he could trust her again.

Which doesn't mean they can't be friends in the meantime or that she's not capable of changing....but it has not happened yet, and as long as ASP is in charge it won't, because she doesn't believe in character development for her main characters. So I think Milo was on the right track with his thinking on this one. Jess shouldn't reconcile with Rory until she's grown up enough to be good for him. I do imagine it happens because I believe change is possible...but it shouldn't happen until there is some serious character growth on her part.

Jess should not have to atone forever for the shit he did in high school, and Rory is not some blameless dream girl who wasn't capable of inflicting serious emotional damage on her own, often in very cruel and catastrophic ways. And as she grew older, the damage she did (or tried to do) to Jess actually got worse. She is not morally superior to him by the end, and he shouldn't have to prove himself to her. It should be the other way around. His happiness matters at least as much as hers does, if not more.

[midorishinji]

Immediate check-in

Satoru Gojo didn't believe in souls, not until he found a usurper in Suguru's body. He also didn't believe in Heaven, not until he faced Sukuna. — Suguru, do you regret anything? — Satoru asked, looking at him seriously. — After you die, there’s no more regret. It doesn't exist because there's no way to go back and change anything, it's useless. — Geto replied, a twinge of sadness behind his dark eyes — Despite that, I still think of how everything could have been different. I think of how many times I wished I had stayed by your side.

Satosugu ｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

Satoru Gojo didn't believe in souls, not until he found a usurper in Suguru's body. The Six Eyes could say that it was him, his Suguru Geto, but he knew better than anyone else that it wasn't, and he was right. He could recognize his soul anywhere, and this was no longer the man he knew and loved, even if the shell was his.

He also didn't believe in Heaven, not until he faced Sukuna.

The image of an airport — a liminal space, how appropriate — was familiar. Three people were waiting for him on the benches, well-known figures: all of them still teenagers, before the world crumbled for good; Haibara never had the chance to grow, a flower that withered before fully blooming; Nanami still had the same haircut that Satoru had so often joked about in the years that followed, in his Jujutsu High uniform, his face still fresh as if he had never known hard work (inside and outside the jujutsu world); and Suguru was still the same teenager as before, with his hair tied back and his gentle smile that made small wrinkles form around his dark eyes.

— I think I lived a good life. — Satoru muttered, looking up over the lenses of his round sunglasses — At least, I'm happy to have died to someone stronger than me, and not to some illness or old age, that would suck.

— You sound like an old general saying that, come on… — Haibara replied, laughing.

—But it's true, isn't it? You're a weirdo who lives for battle, for the pleasure of using jujutsu. — Nanami agreed. Satoru ruffled his hair, teasing him, making Kento sigh in annoyance — It was a fitting end for you. I don't condone it, but I understand and sympathize with your intention.

— Wow, thank you, Nanamin, always so kind... — Gojo replied, with a hint of irony, even though part of him was being serious — And you, what happened to you? I always imagined you were the type to survive anything.

— Curses are curses. Everyone has their limits. — Nanami replied — A few years ago, Mei- san told me that if I wanted to rebuild my life from scratch, I should go north, but if I wanted to go back to the past and remember who I used to be, I should go south. That's what I picked... South. Malaysia would be nice. I'm such a nostalgic person, and yet, in the last moments, I bet everything on the future by trusting Itadori- kun . It wasn't as bad as I expected: it was quick, and Haibara was there for me. I have nothing to complain about... In the end, I'm grateful for everything.

Haibara smiled, the same smile as always, capable of illuminating even the worst darkness. He and Nanami got up, walking towards one of the boarding gates.

— Where are you going? — Satoru shouted, waving goodbye.

— Kuantan. We’re on vacation now. — Nanami replied, he and Haibara waving back.

A small smile appeared on Satoru's face: vacation... Well, if there was anyone who deserved it, it was Kento Nanami. He deserved the crystal clear waters and white sand of Malaysia, he deserved the cocktails, and Haibara's company as they formed the memories he wished they could have formed all these years.

Other people waved back to Satoru: Professor Yaga, Riko Amanai, and Misato Kuroi. Everyone went through the same gate, the inevitable portal through which we all shall pass one day. Paradise was a chance to meet all of those who left too soon, to live life the way we should have lived it. Paradise was the hope of a second chance, redemption.

— Suguru, do you regret anything? — Satoru asked, looking at him seriously.

— After you die, there’s no more regret. It doesn't exist because there's no way to go back and change anything, it's useless. — Geto replied, a twinge of sadness behind his dark eyes — Despite that, I still think of how everything could have been different. I think of how many times I wished I had stayed by your side.

Satoru Gojo couldn't deny that, on several occasions, he wished everything was different. He wished he could have been there when Suguru gave in to temptation and lost his path, his values. He wished they could have been teachers at Jujutsu High together, taking care of the kids. He wished he hadn't failed when it mattered the most.

— I can't say that I died satisfied like Nanamin. I could, if you had been with me, cheering for me when I went to face Sukuna. Without you by my side, it's like a piece of me is missing. — was Gojo’s reply, running his hands through his hair.

— I can’t say that I died satisfied either, and maybe that's why I'm still here, even after all this time. — Geto said — My girls are on the other side already, but I can't join them yet, I can't, because I'm still stuck to you, Satoru. When that crook used my body to attack you, I resisted and tried to stop it, even though it was useless. I tried to save you and I failed.

Satoru smiled. — I guess we're even then, right? Don't worry about it, Suguru. Seeing your arm, your soul , trying to stop him, that... That was enough for me not to give up. It was what made me sure that, somewhere, you were always looking out for me.

— I’ll always be, as long as you live, as long as I exist, Satoru, I will always be taking care of you.

As long as you live... The conclusion surprised Gojo. — Haven't I died yet?

— Not yet, that's why you can't go through that gate.

For the first time, Satoru Gojo cried. He cried like a child, until his shoulders shook with his loud sobs. Suguru played with his hair affectionately, and hugged him while they both cried: — You still have something to do back there, Satoru. You need to go back.

— I don't want that…! I don't wanna leave, Suguru, I don't wanna lose you again…! — the other replied, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with terror. Losing him again would be like ripping out his own heart and trampling on it; Gojo didn't even know how he had survived the first time, and he couldn't imagine a future where he would have to lose him again and again. He wanted rest, and the eternal happiness of Heaven, to walk along the beaches of Malaysia holding hands with Suguru, he wanted to have the chance to live what they never could because the world is cruel, despicable and unfair.

Even through his tears, Suguru smiled, holding Satoru's face as delicately as if he were made of crystal. — Satoru, I will always be with you, that's why I can't leave yet. Don't rush yourself to get back here, okay? I’ll always be here, waiting for you, so we can embark together. Always.

[scary-monsters]

You're not supposed to message your exes and that probably applies to ex best friends as well, but I'll probably always be too headstrong to do what I'm supposed to.

I remember when you thought it would be a miracle if you made it to 25. I'm glad you did. And now just shy of 31. Proud of you. Glad to see you still can't help but love as loudly as when I knew you. I hope that never changes.

Since the last time we talked, I've learned a few things and one of them is that love is never wasted. It is an investment into a market incapable of crashing. If you feel like life has no purpose, putting love into the world is always time well spent. I hope, for the sake of the world, that you are around a lot longer to keep putting love into the world and to receive it in return.

Sincerely, someone who hurt you and was hurt by you. Someone who loved you a long time ago and loves you still. Someone who does not regret the love that was between us, because it was love well spent.

i've been sitting on this ask for a couple days now, both because i was busy with family obligations and also because i debated keeping it to myself and not answering, but that felt wrong and impolite. especially when this actually like.. did a lot for me. apologies in advance for me being overly emotional but, alas, this is just who i am.

there's a very small handful of people that this could be, because i have not had very many best friends in my life, but based on context clues i think i know who it is. regardless, i'm really touched that you remembered me and wanted to reach out, especially since i've been going through it pretty heavily lately and very few people tend to check up on me (which is okay and i'm not trying to be a brat about it, my point is just that we haven't spoken in years and yet you still remembered me, that means a lot). i have been avoiding social interaction for the past week for personal reasons, but i've felt incredibly alone and unfortunately when my mental health tanks i tend to isolate even further. it always feels like self-preservation, so i have yet to learn how to stop doing it, but i really wish i could. just one of many things i'm working on with regards to myself, i guess.

i tend to believe that, when i part ways with people (especially when it's messy and emotional and not very amicable), i always leave a very gross taste in their mouth and that my memory will always be tainted by the hurtful things i said or did. i worry that i have done nothing good for anyone in my life ever and tbh that fear often keeps me awake at night. i want to be a good person so badly and i try my best but i'm painfully aware of my faults and my capability to be a Very Not Nice person. i will admit that for years i looked back on people who hurt me or abandoned me with little to no love in my heart but in recent years i've done a lot of work on myself and i do consider myself a fairly forgiving person. i try to live life as patiently as i can with regards to other people, i always try to understand what someone else could be going through. so no matter who you are, i promise you i have let go of that anger. it's in the past now, i really hope you are doing well and living your best life and i sincerely apologize for the pain i put you through. i imagine it was never intentional, everyone i have ever loved in my life, i have loved fully 🧡

[ngmn2002]

Is Kou going to adopt Tsukasa's beliefs…??

It's more like me thinking too much... but... I will go with this little 'crazy' thought of mine... .... In the shortest way possible.

So, Minamoto Kou...

A boy born into the great exorcist Minamoto family, that is tasked to exorcist all kinds of supernatulas at the spot no matter what. That's the rule they live and stand for, for generations. And, he adopted it eventually, as a member of that family. As a little kid and until now, he looked up to his strong older brother and wanted to become a great exorcist like him one day.

But, he always believed he is weak, good for nothing, stupid and doubted himself and his abilities. A lost teenager who is looking for his true call out there. He wants to do something great in his life, and be a great 'hero'. The one to bring piece and happiness to everyone. A huge goal.

So, trying to prove his capability of becoming a good exorcist, he started with 'Hanako-san'. Then, after sometime, started to doubt himself, thinking that maybe, his beliefs about supernaturals were wrong and maybe.. there is something called 'good' supernaturals after all. That's the thing, his older brother says it's nonexistent. From there, we can get he is not really like his brother or his family on that regard, he is trying to do the right thing, when he is fully convinced it's the right thing to do, he doesn't want to regret anything and do things because it's just.. like that. Things got complicated and he decided to keep a close eye on 'Hanako-san' for the time being up until now. So, after that... he is still trying... to find his call out there.

After some time, he met a weak ghost called 'Mitsuba'. Things escalated quickly and he 'lost him'. After that, believing that the reason of his grief is a being called 'Tsukasa', he decided to hate him and seek revenge against him. The being called 'Tsukasa' took a part of 'Mitsuba' and used it to create a copy of him. A copy that Kou, swore to save and help in some way.

After some events, he couldn't really do anything for Mitsuba 2.0. He got him back in a fake world, he tried to 'join' him, but that didn't work, he lost him again since Mitsuba 2.0 willingly went back to Tsukasa, yet again. Then the severance came and he lost him yet again. He dealt with so much pain from that whole 'Real/copy Mitsuba' experience. Then, after the severance, he got him back, at his house door. After some events, he discovered a new cruel fact yet again, adding more pain to his past one. And who knows how are things going to end up. Now...

After all that pain he went through... after the whole 'real/copy Mitsuba' thing... where does he stand now? What did he learn from all the events he went through from the very start of his story up until now? Where does he stand now?

What kind of hero does he want to become? The one who will save everyone and bring them happiness... now... after all that... what valuable lessons did he learn? especially from his 'real/copy Mitsuba' experience.

The 'Real Mitsuba' experience:

He tried helping real Mitsuba's soul/ghost rest in piece by helping him take a photo he wants, instead of going for the 'exorcist' choice immediately, then Tsukasa showed up to fulfil real Mitsuba's wish (changed him into a monster and he met his end 'that way' when Hanako showed up because of what Tsukasa did, "according to Kou"), and Kou got a little taste of how the world is unfair and shouted that to Hanako, but... he put the blame on Tsukasa at the end instead of the 'real' cause of his pain, because of how naive and lost he still was.

The 'copy Mitsuba' experience:

At the stage it's in now... he became like this:

He is pretty much acting against his belief system. As a minamoto, his job is to get rid of any supernatural at the spot no matter what, he decided to do the right thing, he will do it when he feels: yes, this supernatural is bad and dangerous. And now? his friend, is in fact a dangerous, he can eat humans or even better, he tried to eat him because he couldn't hold back anymore. He said he is a monster to him. Yet... Kou... was OK with that. He accepts him and is trying to help him and doesn't want to lose him (the same can go for Real Mitsuba, he won't see him a monster now and will get that was needed to happen for him to stay and will accept him and won't want to lose him). Later, he is crying in despair at the end. Maybe he gets now... that life is not easy, bright and colorful. It's full of pain and sometimes, you will take many cruel decisions, and even hurt those who you love or even be aggressive with them, things are not bright all the time. Can this stage of this experience be his 'wakeup' call?

Will he finally open his eyes, and see Tsukasa was only trying to grant real Mitsuba's wish all the time with the only possible way he had? Will he finally get that real Mitsuba was himself and Tsukasa didn't turn him into a monster? and just like he accepts copy Mitsuba for the mosnter he is now, he was going to accept real Mitsuba for what he has become, if that meant he will be able to stay. Will he see Tsukasa was the one even giving them the chance to be together forever as both of them want? Will he see Tsukasa was in fact doing both of them a favor? Even in the copy Mitsuba case, they are free to be together all they want. They can have each other. After getting that Tsuaksa was never what he thoguht he is... after getting he was wrong about him... when he gets his whole revenge was stupid...

Will he get he was blind all the time, running after a wrong 'target' and saying it's the reason of this pain in both the Mitsuba cases? Will he see his revenge is not against the right 'target' and get what his real 'target' is? Who is the real reason for his and his friend's 'pain'?

Will he learn now the lesson of all the pain he went through up until this point? Will he open his eyes now... and see things for how they truly are? Will he see the world he thought it's bright and colorful for what it truly is? How will he embrace all that pain? What kind of person will he become after he does so?

Now, if all I suggested came to Kou's mind... that would be the best development for him in my opinion... He would understand how the world really works now. It's like a wakeup call to him, to open his eyes to the real truth of the world. It's a cruel place. He would see all Tsukasa did to Real Mituba was OK and really needed. He will see Tsukasa did everything so Real Mitsuba can stay, and so the 2 of them can be together forever. He will also accept that was the only way for Tsukasa to help Real Mitsuba and to make them stay together, even if it sounded 'cruel and bad', it's not like that when it's needed and the only way out. Just like he treated Mitsuba 2.0 in the last chapter. He was so cruel with Mitsuba 2.0 to force him eat so he can stay, since it's the only way, even if it was cruel. Tsukasa... was the one who worked really hard.. harder than him or even real Mitsuba to keep them together. They were having fun.. while he was the one doing all the work.. until the very end, up until Hanako showed up. Even later, he gave him a chance to have copy Mitsuba and become friends with him, have time with him, until now. Opening his eyes to the full truth now... He will get that the 'world' and its 'rules' are his real target. This cruel world and rules are the reason of his pain, grief and misery. They are the reason Real Mitsuba and Mitsuba 2.0 faced all these cruel things. My true 'target'... is the world itself. After understanding all that... after getting who his real 'target' is... after embracing all the pain... he will find his true call... the thing he was looking for since the very start of his journey... His true role...

...........

He will finally open his eyes to...

That 'Tsukasa guy'... was right all along...?

And what is holding me from achieving that… is the world itself and its rules.

Will he see that Tsukasa's way of looking at things is right, agree with his philosophy and will now answer:

Was that Kou's true call? Was he destined to go through all the previous experiences… to get to this pint? Will his goal be... to change this unfair world?

Was Tsukasa expecting things will go this way with Kou, and then.. he will see the 'cruel world' as it is... and stand against it? Is it why he talked about it with him?

Are we in for a surprise... to see Kou accepting Tsukasa's way of seeing things.. and starting on fighting the world and its rules? Whether he joined forces with Tsukasa or not... it's kinda interesting to think about. Is that the true fate of Kou Minamoto? It could be... it's fun to think about it this way.

[chewaai]

Pro tips I'm summarizing from the comments:

- You can find the transcripts here or copy the link: http://www.nightvalepresents.com/transcripts

- You can find content warnings here, which redirects to this link: https://nightvale.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Content_Warnings . They might not be up-to-date

- Some people can listen together with someone who they trust will ground them and/or when they pause the episode often

- Don't feel ashamed to miss out. There are many people who say they don't suffer from psychosis/paranoia, but wtnv was too much for them as well

- The fun part of wtnv is the profound expressions sprinkled in, which I'm adding under the readmore

Also thank y'all, it makes me happy to see people care for each others well-being

-

Don't worry, you do not have to read all of them :)

This is, still, from a source of existential confusion/wonder. If you discover that's not for you while reading through, please go back. Move onto the next tumblr post. You're okay, it's okay, take care of you <3

-

Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that’s not the right question. The question is are we living a life that is worth the harm?

The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first and settles in as the gentle present

The desert seems vast, even endless. And yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow

there’s no sense in going through life presuming awful things about people you do not know

You are beautiful when you do beautiful things

We will never be the same again. But here's a little secret for you: no one is ever the same thing again after anything. You are never the same twice, and much of your unhappiness comes from trying to pretend that you are. Accept that you are different each day, and do so joyfully, recognizing it for the gift it is. Work within the desires and goals of the person you are currently, until you aren't that person anymore, and everything changes once again

No pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is

Sometimes you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious glowing cloud [...]. While they’re happening, they feel like the only thing that matters and you can hardly imagine that there’s a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the glow cloud moves on. And you move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find, as time passes, that you remember it less and less

The present tense of regret is indecision

Be proud of your place in the Cosmos. It is small and yet it is

Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you

Perfection is not real. Perfection is not human. Carlos is not perfect- no, even better- he is imperfect. Everything about him, and us, and all of this is imperfect. And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and cracks into which our outsized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is part of how love works

We are not history yet. We are happening now. How miraculous is that?

remind yourself: Don’t worry. Don’t worry. All is as it was meant to be. It was meant to be lonely and terrifying and unfair and fleeting. Don’t worry

Ignorance might not actually be bliss, but it is certainly less work

When confronted with someone whose “normal” is not our “normal,” we are forced to confront the most frightening prospect of all: that there is no such thing as “normal.” Just the accidental cultural moment we happened to be born into, a cultural happenstance that never existed before, and will never exist again

Almost always we are all experiencing the same problems as everyone else, and pretending we don’t so that every one of us thinks we are alone

If we cannot be judged on our actions, then we cannot be judged

Time is like wax, dripping from a candle flame. In the moment, it is molten and falling, with the capability to transform into any shape. Then the moment passes, and the wax hits the table top and solidifies into the shape it will always be. It becomes the past, a solid single record of what happened, still holding in its wild curves and contours the potential of every shape it could have held

we are even now in another bit of molten wax. We are in a moment that is still falling, still volatile, and we will never be anywhere else. We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the Now. Where we never can know what shape the next moment will take

Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won’t. That’s what love is

When we talk about teenagers, we adults often talk with an air of scorn, of expectation for disappointment. And this can make people who are presently teenagers feel very defensive. But what everyone should understand is that none of us are talking to the teenagers that exist now, but talking back to the teenager we ourselves once were [...]. Any teenager who exists now is incidental to the potent mix of nostalgia and shame with which we speak to our younger selves

I am sometimes more doubt than man

"I was thinking about the series of ongoing actions that we perceive as the present, and the amassing of memories that we treat as the living record of the past and the hopes and dreams and assumptions that we project as the future. I was thinking about time. And about how it means something to so many people, and about how it’s so finite, and also so infinite.

I was also thinking about space. About how it is nothing, and then, a point which is just a single spot within the nothing, and a line which separates the nothing into two nothings, and how a plane is a patch of nothing and an angle just where two nothings meet, but all those things combined, with an object of points, lines, planes, and angles, an object with length and width and depth that can take up actual space. Until that object becomes something made of nothing – within nothing.

An object can be a wall, a floor, a roof, a bed, a table, a dog, a door, a rug, a…a home.

And then, I thought about how a home is just a group of objects connected by a shared personal experience of time – our past, our present, our assumed future. A home is…I mean, uh, scientifically speaking, speaking form the point of view of mere facts and logic, and um…hmm. You know, what with science, and all…uhhh, I– I– I just thought it was…time for us to…make a home together"

Each day the sun rises and sets. The moon pulls the tides. Our hearts beat. Our loved ones love us back. And we share our inhales and exhales with the great organism that is our tiny planet

Confused? At a loss for what to do? Wow, sounds like you're human. Good luck

May we all be human – beautiful, stupid, temporal, endless

within our limitations, there is no limit to how beautiful we can become. How much of our ideal self we can create. All the beauty in the world was made within the oppressive limitations

you are trapped in mistaken impressions of how your life should supposedly be. [...] That’s something only you can fix, through reflection, and laughter, and acceptance

How lonely that would be! A couple who has made themselves one so completely, that they are once again alone. We are two people, separate. Unique. And joined only where we choose to join

You figure it out. You learn from it. You take action. You create the meaning

We must be willing to face great challenges in order to achieve great things

Death is slotted for us all, and maybe it is years from now – in a soft bed, surrounded by the soft eyes of the people that we love – or, maybe, it is not so many years from now at all. And we have every reason to be afraid. But we also need to learn to put that fear aside, like a library book. Sometimes we need to check out our fear, and– and– and read it, and– and study it and peruse it closely, but at a certain point return it to its proper shelf and experience something else: Contentment. Worry. Calm. Hunger. And a great deal of love, of every kind.

So put that fear in a place where you can find it when you need it, but don’t carry it with you! Don’t carry it with you

Science was meant to be hard. After all, what was science but a bunch of bored human beings trying to challenge themselves when faith became too easy?

And if you’re ever feeling lonely just look at the moon. someone, somewhere, is looking right at it too

Nothing can be fully understood to be 'real.' Any description of the world we give is simply the world we experience

We all don't get happy lives. Maybe a happy life doesn't exist, at least not as some complete, discrete entity. We get what we get and we sort through how we feel about it moment by moment

We all chose to stand down and hope change would be won for us, and not by us. By someone else, we believed. A hero, we believed. But belief is only step one. Action is step two. Fighting for what you believe is step two. Solidarity is step two. Unity is step two

Sometimes where you live is just a place, no matter how long you live there

Feel free to share the ones I've missed

Worry less about the person you once were. Or the person you dream you someday will be. Worry about the person you are now. Or don’t even worry! Just be that person

-

As Welcome to Night Vale is gaining another burst of popularity, I do wish to send out a warning to people who are very sensitive to psychotic episodes: be careful if you want to listen to it

If you're the type of person who has #unreality blacklisted, don't listen to too many episodes in a row/maybe avoid it all together?

Stay safe <3

[dried-deep-sea]

Scrapped #10

Beta gave me a better setting so this has gotten binned.

By the time Marinette managed to get back to her room it was well past noon, and it had been several hours since she had become so exhausted that she wasn't tired anymore. Sure every once in a while her eyes played tricks on her by warping the walls or floors, and she couldn't exactly feel her face but she was to wired to rest. Shopping had been a long horrible ordeal, her Mom stopped to talk to almost every vendor they visited. Mari had done her best to smile and nod pleasantly the entire time but at some point she had stopped, simply letting her mind wander.

She thought about how much better things could be if she was nicer, if her mother could take a step back instead of digging in deeper. How easily everything could have changed if she had made just one good friend. She wondered if changing her attitude was even enough to make things better, or if she would even be capable of keeping her cool. Maybe she could ask her fleabag partner for pointers. She can't imagine that it was pleasant, to be hounded by paparazzi and insane fans at all hours of the day. He might be a braggart but he was capable of holding himself together.

That's about when the burst of energy reinvigorated her, and suddenly she was as sweet as the macaroons she was airbrushing designs on. A task she had been set on since they had gotten back. Her father had fallen behind with a large custom order, so she helped him while her mother put everything away. A little while later Sabine joined them adding to the flurry of activity, timed chaotically to the rock song blaring overhead. With the three of them working they finished on time, and her parents closed the bakery for the day so they could make and set up the delivery.

Marinette threw herself onto her bed, sinking into the same dented spot she always fell into, not bothering to crawl under the blankets. It didn't take long for sleep to take her, and for once she had pleasant dreams. Ones of that other Marinette and her happy life.

The rest of the weekend passed easily, she got in trouble the next morning for abandoning her responsibilities but her mother couldn't deny she had been promised an early night. So the punishment had been minimal, no phone for the rest of the week. It was today that she worried about.

Mondays were always hellish for any student, but for Marinette they were the start of a new week of social torture. Chloe always used the weekends to think of new cruel ways to torment her, and every Monday was the start of new hell. At least they only lasted until the end of the week, if you could call that a blessing and not a double edged sword.

So here she stood on the steps of Francois Dupont Junior High School, dread seeping into every pore in her body. Try as she might she couldn't bring herself to walk up the steps and go inside. She could just leave, right? Yeah there weren't any tests left for the year and its not like she actually needed to do those future career forms. Everyone knew schools ignored those and put you wherever they felt was appropriate.

Marinette turned on her heel and was met with the garish sight of Chloe's yellow limousine, a sparkling gold crown mounted over the antenna. The faux twins stepped out of the backseat, nearly identical Gucci bags slug over their shoulders. Their butler bowed and she heard him wish them a pleasant productive day at school. There was no escaping her fate now that she was in Chloe's crosshairs.

Sabrina, ever the dutiful lackey, rushed over to take her lady's bag as the girls made a bee line for Mari. It would seem Zoe's boy hadn't show up yet, something he was sure to regret once she got her claws into him. The duo stopped a few feet in front of her, all sneers and averted eyes respectively.

Chloe made a show of sniffing the air before she pinched her nose, "Smells like a sweat shop over here, been staying up late to finish another shitty shirt, Dupain-cheng?" She said, though it sounded silly with her nose plugged. Marinette tried her best not to roll her eyes.

"Not that its any of your business, Chloe, but no I'm not designing anything at the moment."

"Finally realized you're never gonna make it with these depressing clothes?" Zoe smirked at her, a sick glint in her eyes.

"I was busy catering your Birthday, Zoe." The blonde's looked at each other for a moment and then burst into cackles.

"Oh so that's why you didn't show up, which is a shame everyone was upset we had no donkey to pin a tail on." Zoe said between peals of laughter.

"Oh my god she does look like an ass!" Chloe added, howling as a hand came to rest on her younger sister shoulder as they walked away. "See you in class donkeys breath!" The older sister called over her shoulder at Marinette and there was the insult for the week. Not as bad as it could have been, but that only meant worse was in store.

With a sigh she started up the steps, accepting that, for now, this was her life. She got about halfway up when a gangly boy who's textureless shaggy hair that reeked of mousse raced up the stairs, nearly knocking her over in his desperation to reach the top. Looks like Zoe's flunky finally showed up to take his punishment. He was practicing apologies under his breath, poor thing.

She stumbled back, teetering on the hard marble ledge trying to regain her balance. Someone placed a hand on her middle back and gently pushed her up until she stood with both feet firmly on the ground. She looked around to chastise her savior for being stupid enough to do that in public, but was stopped short by the sight of Nino Lahiffe.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you to fall on top of me and break my glasses." He said quickly, making an excuse to cover for the assistance. "Again," he muttered under his breath. Though no one seemed to be paying them any mind, and the steps were busy, she snarled at his assistance.

"Convenient excuse four-eyes, thank you so much for reminding me of the last time I fell down the stairs I appreciate it deeply." She hissed at him, sarcasm coating her words like an arsenic powdered doughnut. Even with such harsh words flowing from her lips she still did her best to force her eyes to convey hoe grateful she was. Silently praying he could interpret the widening of her eyes as thanks and not mockery. She swiftly rejoined the flow of students rushing to class before the second bell rang.

Hopefully the act truly had gone unnoticed by anyone who would care to report them. The last thing she needed as a lecture from Madame Mendeleiev about how receiving help was communism and would lead to the wrath of The Supreme at best and the degradation of society at worst. She had heard the one given to Marc and Nathaniel when they were caught collaborating on a creative project without a contract and it had been more than enough.

She ran to her locker, fingers fumbling the lock in her rush to distance herself from the situation. She dumped her unnecessary books and coat into her locker before practically running to class, kicking the metal box shut to be certain it closed. She only made that mistake once and it had ended with a literal pile of horseshit falling on her. Where did it come from? She hadn't the foggiest, but she was certain it was Chloe who had it done.

Marinette made it to her seat with seconds to spare, barely able to catch her breath before Miss Bustier started firing off attendance. The teacher had thrown herself into her work in the last few months, which was strange considering Miss Bustier hated her job.

They had gone through the material so quickly that they had finished the course last Wednesday and now she was prattling off an in depth history of the industrial revolution, one she gleefully informed them would be a test on that Friday, the last day of school. Much to the classes dismay.

Had Miss Bustier not been so loud in her distain for the class this year, Marinette would have chalked this up to simply keeping students engaged in class. But it was very obvious to anyone with eyes that the ginger was avoiding something. Because who assigns a test on the last day of school? It felt like even though three months ago she had been on the verge of quitting, Miss Bustier no longer wanted the school year to end.

Not that it was Marinette's problem, she loathed this teacher and she hated Marinette right back in equal measure. No, her problem was the snickering emanating from the seat behind her. Chloe's seat, specifically chosen for maximum torment. Every now and then a sharp bit of folded paper would pelt her ears or shoulders. It was a relief when the lunch bell finally rang cutting the lecture off mid-sentence. Students rushed for the door, shoving each other out of the way in desperation to get out of here and fill their aching bellies with subpar cafeteria food.

"Remember to be here on Friday for the final test of the year!" Miss Bustier called after them, which had more than one student grumbling curses under their breath. Marinette lagged behind, watching Chloe and Sabrina as they walked down the halls, wondering if she should bother trying to eat today.

Her parents paid for her to get hot lunches but more often than not they ended up wasted on the disgusting tile floors, or on her. If she tried to bring one from home it was criticized by Sabine and Chloe would call her poor. Which was absurd, they went to the same school, tuition wasn't cheap.

Marinette slung her book bag over her shoulder, and paused in the threshold of the classroom. Should she ask what was bothering her least favorite teacher? It was something Betterfly would expect of her, but would the gesture be appreciated? Would doing so land her in more hot water? Perhaps this was a test from administration to weed out students who would dare to betray The Supreme Mandate. She was so swept up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice someone approaching.

"Is there something I can help you with Miss Dupain-Cheng?" Madame Mendeleiev asked as she stopped in front of the classroom's door, a stack of papers in hand. One of the many things Marinette was glad to be leaving behind was Madame Mendeleiev and the passive aggressive pause she put between Dupain and Cheng. As if she disapproved of the hyphen or perhaps she disapproved of Tom and Sabine's union all together.

"No, Madame Mendeleiev, I was trying to remember if I brought my lunch to class with me but its in my locker." Marinette responded, lying almost on reflex.

"Then see that you move along quickly, I must speak to Miss Bustier about where to send each of you next year." She stepped to the side, sweeping her free arm towards the hallway to usher Marinette out of the room.

The door was shut and locked as soon as both of her feet were in the hall, nearly catching her bookbag in the process. She looked to the cafeteria doors and was horrified to see Chloe waggling a paper tail at her, statistic grin plastered on her face as someone made obnoxious braying noises behind her.

She didn't run, trying to fold into the shadows and shirk any attention from Chloe's Clique. She had a horrible feeling they were going to try to pin that donkeys tail on her this week. It was all too much for her nerves, which were already as frayed as shitty plastic playground rope.

She needed to find a place to hide for the next thirty minutes. As quickly as humanly possible she made her way to the bathrooms. She couldn't hide in here for long, or they would come looking and the last thing she needed right now was to be caught cornered in the bathroom.

She waited about five minutes before opening the door and ducking out into the hall. She could see Chloe's posse milling around, probably looking for her, her heart hammered in her chest as she made for the disused stairs at the end of the hall. Moving quickly she descended them and pushed open the door to the alley behind the school. She had found it few years ago while running from a pack of her peers chasing her with spiders. It was always unlocked, and the designated smoking area. It was supposed to be a teachers only area but that never stopped the students from using it. She didn't even register that someone had already propped it open until she came face to face with a boy.

Marinette stumbled back trying to stop herself from barreling him over and just managing to slow herself as the door swung shut. After a few moments of pinwheeling her arms she regained her composure. Marinette was shocked to find the smoking area already occupied by someone, and nearly turned around when his silky smooth voice called out to her.

"Hello, I don't think I've seen you here before." A melodic sound she missed the moment it stopped. He was breathtakingly beautiful, The tips of the boys hair were dyed a vibrant blue, the same shade as his piercing eyes made more entrancing by black eyeliner in his waterline. He had a strong Romanesque nose and pallid skin that stood in contrast to his dark trench coat and ripped black jeans. There was a lit cigarette in his mouth, and from the way he was standing with his lighter, it was new despite the reek of new smoke in the air.

She didn't know if her heart was beating out of fear of being found or because he was looking at her like a snake watching a mouse. It sent chills down her spine, the bemused smile and the glitter of dangerous mischief in his eyes. Marinette was in his space, so close that through the cigarette smoke, she could smell the leather polish and wood stain on him.

From this distance she could see that he had earrings, two in either ear. One side sported a stud and a hoop in his earlobe, while the other sported a cuff attached to a tiny gleaming stud by a silvery chain. She blushed so hard that it made her angry, and she shoved him away, accidentally knocking his cigarette into a puddle of trash water slowly leaking from the dumpsters.

"Aw man," he sucked on his teeth, "Now what am I gonna do?"

"I don't know? Make better health decisions." less of a question and more of a statement. He chuckled and it was like fireworks went off in her head.

"You say that like we're not here for the same reasons."

"I'm not here to smoke, thanks for the assumption though." She smiled sardonically, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Why else would anyone be back here then?" He pried.

"That's your business because…?" She let the question hang in the air.

He shrugged, leaning back against the chain link gate. "I suppose it's not, but you can't blame me for being curious about something new." She hated that he had a point, but said nothing. The air hung there, heavy with anticipation. He was too earnest, it was sounding every alarm in her head that this was a test, a trap laid by the Supreme's forces to test her.

She decided to roll her eyes and started towards the other side of the dumpster, he didn't say anything but she could feel his eyes boring into her back as she did. There were many times over the last few months she had been tempted to pick up smoking, but she never found the courage to pick up any of the half smoked sticks and give it a try. Marinette did her best to ignore him as he finished his cigarette and lit another. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and he studied her intently.

"What do you want?" She eventually snapped.

"Would it be too cheesy to ask for your name?" He grinned, all teeth like the Cheshire cat. This bastard thinks he's so cool, doesn't he? She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

[magicalhideoutengineer]

https://news.abs-cbn.com/ancx/culture/movies/04/11/22/jude-law-on-playing-a-wizard-and-returning-to-hogwarts

Q: We recently celebrated the 20th-year anniversary of the Wizarding World, and Albus Dumbledore is the only character in the films who has been there from the start. What qualities are constant and what qualities are different from the man we first met in the Harry Potter stories?

JUDE LAW: Looking at Dumbledore’s journey from beginning to end, what remains constant, I would guess, are his abilities to see the good in people, his mischievous quality, his good humor, his enjoyment of young and innocent magic, and approach to life. I think he is revitalized by the youth around him because it's sort of untarnished. But you get to see his regrets, I think, a little more earlier on. He’s still someone solving self-afflicted issues, someone who is still unpacking who he is in the world. There’s perhaps a quality of experience and wisdom that we see later on where those wrinkles have been ironed out.

Q: He always seems to be a couple of steps ahead as well, right?

JUDE LAW: I think this idea that Albus Dumbledore is always a couple of steps ahead is a position he naturally finds himself in. One thing that I found very hard playing him was playing someone who is really seeing the world and the multiple dimensions and perspectives of the world and its possible outcomes all in one, effortlessly. It’s quite a hard thing to convey. Because Albus has that ability, which I suppose isolates him slightly. It can be a place of loneliness because you see everything ahead of everyone else. So it weighs on him somewhat. I guess it’s true to say that, later on, when we see him in the Harry Potter stories, he’s also learned how to settle into that ability.

Q: What appealed to you about delving into Dumbledore’s history?

JUDE LAW: There was so much to relish in a part whose future we already know. He’s already this much-loved, admired character in folk history. To be able to go backwards and understand how he put himself together, how he worked out a young man’s issues, a young man’s problems, and understand the path he took, or didn’t take, or fought to take to get him to the man that we know he became, is a gem for an actor because you know that journey’s going to be rich. I suppose there was also something wonderful about knowing that in his heart he had strength and a goodness that he was resolving. There were so many facets to the possibilities and so many areas to mine that it was a wonderful part to accept and be a part of.

Q: This film also delves into the relationship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Can you expand on how what once brought them together has now turned them apart?

JUDE LAW: What brought Grindelwald and Dumbledore together at an earlier stage in their life was a like mind and a shared passion and excitement, I suppose, for what was possible with their abilities. I don’t think either had ever met a wizard who was as capable as the other. So suddenly, they were able to speak freely, think freely, and express themselves freely. Like many relationships from our past, they then changed, as we all do when we grow up, and their paths separated. The bond that they made in the blood troth was at a very specific point when they were both, let’s say, naive, ambitious, and unexperienced, and their philosophies, therefore, evolved in very different ways, into very different directions. So there’s this huge amount of regret from Dumbledore’s perspective that he has tied himself to someone who he sees now as holding a very dark perspective and creed. And yet, of course, he’s still connected to this person, and I think still holds him very dearly because of the relationship that they did share, the bond that they did share, but Grindelwald’s outlook doesn’t represent Dumbledore’s.

Q: It seems that in this film, Dumbledore is treating Newt more like an equal, giving him a position of leadership within the team. Can you talk about how their relationship has evolved?

JUDE LAW: Newt and Dumbledore’s relationship has evolved, but let’s not forget that in the first film, Newt was sent to New York on his own mission and has always been entrusted and believed in by Dumbledore. But at the same time, I guess it’s fair to say that, because Newt was a student of his, there is this teacher-pupil relationship, which you slowly see shifting to equal, but also friend. Certainly now, I think the two of them recognize a very special connection between each other and trust. For Dumbledore, I think, Newt’s incredible barometer of what is right and what is wrong and his natural tendency to choose what’s good is a really important element in his personality because obviously Dumbledore needs to know that someone isn’t going to sway, isn’t going to be misled and is, in real crunch moments, going to make the right choice. And with Newt, I think he just knows it’s implicit.

Q: And yet, he doesn’t tell him the full plan.

JUDE LAW: Well, the problem is he can’t tell him the full plan, so of course there also has to be trust. That’s something I think the two of them share. Even though Dumbledore can be infuriating because he doesn’t always explain everything, Newt trusts him enough to know that he has the overview, and he’s therefore willing, if you like, to jump out of the plane without a parachute. Not that he does that, but he would.

Q: Dumbledore assembles an interesting team to try and stop Grindelwald, including a Muggle.

JUDE LAW: Everybody who Dumbledore recruits for this is someone he has to trust will react in a certain way in a given moment because only Dumbledore really knows what is going to happen. Everyone else is sent out blind. So, he has to know that each of them will make the right choice, but in the right way. They also will have a different skill set. Jacob, the Muggle, is kind of key to the whole thing. He has a sort of willful and spontaneous personality, and, as he says to him later in the story, he also has a full heart, a heart that sort of guides him. A lot of that all boils down, again, to Dumbledore being able to trust these individuals and know that they will eventually end up where he needs them to end up in order for the plan to come together.

Q: Why does Dumbledore send Jacob a wand and what do you think it symbolizes?

JUDE LAW: Well, I suppose Dumbledore giving Jacob the wand is first of all a symbol that he belongs in this team of witches and wizards. In a way, it’s also slightly cheeky; there’s a cheeky side to Dumbledore in that he offers Jacob a false sense of security, a false sense of power, which he knows will lead Jacob in a certain direction.

Q: From Harry to Newt, and now this group… How do you think Dumbledore gets people to risk their lives, carrying out these missions?

JUDE LAW: Ultimately, his aim always is that the right, the good, the honest choices are made. So he has to hope that he attracts and has the devotion of people who are led by what is right, what is good, and what is honest. He’s also someone who doesn’t necessarily go out and say, “You must do this.” He sets it up in such a way that people feel the need to do it because they know this is good, this is right, this is honest. What’s interesting is that all these people also go on a journey in which they discover their own honest, good, true self. So it’s a personal journey that is also for the greater good, and Dumbledore somehow manages to conduct all of that, without it feeling like, “You must do this for this person.” It’s like, “You’ve got to do this for yourself; it’s the right thing.” He’s someone who just seems to be able to attract that, but he’s also someone who’s out there doing it anyway. And I would say Dumbledore is persuasive because he guides the needle in yourself to be the better you, the stronger you, and the more honest you.

Q: There’s definitely a theme of family and of brothers in this film. Can you talk about Albus’s relationship with his brother, Aberforth?

JUDE LAW: There is a strong theme of family and brothers, and all the complications that go with that. Dumbledore’s journey to the sage that he becomes in the Harry Potter films, I think, is unearthing and facing the darker shadows of his relationship with his family, the regrets. That’s very much locked up in what The Secrets of Dumbledore is about. I don’t know that, when you find him at the beginning of the Fantastic Beast series, and certainly even in this new film, he thinks he’s a very good person. I think he believes he’s a bit of a monster, really, because of things that have happened, particularly between him and his brother. There’s always love between Aberforth and Dumbledore. It’s not that it’s gone that far, this kind of crevice between them. But there’s a lot between them. First of all, you’ve got to remember that Albus, as the older brother, was this outstanding wizard from the beginning. Aberforth was always, probably, in his shadow. So there’s that, which let’s call it brotherly, fraternal jealousy, I suppose. Then added to that, Dumbledore’s decisions in his youth have really caused a wound that has affected the whole family, particularly these two brothers. The relationship with Aberforth is one of the main wrinkles, if you like, that needs ironing out in Dumbledore’s past.

Q: There is a climactic moment in the movie with Dumbledore and Credence. Can you just speak a little bit about shooting that battle with him?

JUDE LAW: First of all, what was really quite brilliant on the VFX department’s side was that they decided Dumbledore would take Credence into this sort of mirror world so that any destruction or violence that they wreak with each other doesn’t affect the Muggle world. Then on top of that, there’s this fantastic battle and I think it will be exciting for people to finally see Dumbledore in action. There was also this unusual kind of contrast between the desire to destroy from Credence and the desire to protect from Dumbledore. It makes for quite an interesting dance.

[xtinyslip]

lcvenderhcze​:​

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO GET USED TO,” sam scoffed, arms crossed over her chest, because.. no, she couldn’t believe that she was entertaining even the slightest bit of conversation with him. he had tried to kill her, he had tried to kill tara and.. yes, she had to admit that killing him had been more satisfying than she could have ever said. it had been better than most and.. right now, she knew that very well. how could she not? then again, it wasn’t as if she could do it again. it wasn’t as if she had the guts to do it again knowing all that it was going to mean - one way or the other. if he pushed it, though? if he made it so she had no other choice? sam would know. “you don’t know me, mr. bailey. no matter what you seem to believe. just because… just because you forced my hand once - it doesn’t mean that you know who i am or what i am capable of. you don’t.” she would forever hate the fact that she was forced to work in the same place as he was, because.. how could she not, she wondered? “i’ve never been able to shake what happened,” and yet, her voice betrayed her, long before she was able to stop it. “i loved your son. i thought that he was different from all the others. that he didn’t care about my past. and then.. he turned around and proved that he was just like everyone else. killing him was satisfying. in fact, it was… better than anything i had ever felt before.” which was the truth and well - he could do whatever he wanted about it. it wasn’t going to change a thing and never would.

“okay.” submissive and not because he wanted to be but because… because fuck he was all kinds of confused and he didn’t know what to do. how could he not know? standing in the presence of the girl who killed his son and he didn’t know what to do? he felt ashamed. “it didn’t take much did it? to force your hand? i don’t think anyone knows what your capable of, do they? not even you. there’s only so long you can suppress it… whatever it is your holding onto.” she could deny it but his twenty or whatever fucking stab wounds told him she was holding something back. “i know.” and she could slate him, tell him he didn’t but he had lost a son that night. he might know better than fucking anyone what she couldn’t shake and he wouldn’t be told otherwise. “my son—“ it wasn’t only her voice that betrayed her and he grimaced, fuck, it just made his anger burn. “his obsession with those stupid fucking movies.” he hated himself for letting it get to where it had but he never thought anyone would actually get hurt over it. least of all richie. if he’d thought for a second it would end this way he would have put an end to it. he would have done anything not to lose his son. “i didn’t —“ he was a kid, a kid who liked movies, who wanted to direct and so he thought he was enabling creativity. not — that. “my son was one of a kind.” biased, most definitely. “i should have known better and now i do.” what did that mean? not even he knew at the moment but it took a lot to say it. “that’s why it didn’t take much to convince people it was you.” he admitted with a shrug, moving towards her slowly and simply so he could bend down to get the whiskey and two glasses out of his bottom draw. no he did t want to drink with her but neither of them were going anywhere for a while. this made the sense to him. “you don’t fucking stab someone that many times and not enjoy it. it takes a special someone to enjoying killing. not even i did.” he did it and he didn’t regret it but had he particularly enjoyed it? no, it was a means to an end — it had been necessary and that was all.

[cowboycakes]

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

---

Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

[the-bau-quinjet]

Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

-

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

-

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

-

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

-

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

-

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

[luimagines]

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy  or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures. 

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot. 

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it. 

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted. 

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

[aminiatureworld]

Burden

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,261

Warnings: None

Premise: Xiao fell in love with your goodness, with your selflessness and generosity towards others. Perhaps, however, in doing so he had misunderstood your own complexities.

In which the reader feels they are a burden.

Author’s Note: I feel like I should note that there are going to be some relatively extreme emotions, mostly negative. I don’t feel like it’s enough or specific enough to be given a warning, but if anyone wants to tell me to tag it for something I will gladly. That being said I’m pretty proud of this one

Xiao

Ever since your first interaction you had been helping Xiao. It had seemed so natural, even then, even when nothing seemed natural about interacting with a human, those strange people from who Xiao must always be separated. Yet there you were, asking if this perfect stranger was alright. And there Xiao was, suddenly seeing his world opening up before him.

Perhaps it was for this reason that your relationship had developed in the way it had. To Xiao your selflessness, your never ending kindness, the fact that you would stop to help someone regardless of circumstance, all of that was normal. It was innate in your personality, and perhaps that was why Xiao never questioned what effect having that kind of personality might have on you. It is easy to assume that a kind and selfless person is also one with a short memory. After all, how could they stand it otherwise?

So when the first, barely noticeable, traces of that burden which Xiao saw so often began to swirl around you the yaksha’s initial reaction was that of utter panic. Was this not the exact reason that Xiao had chosen to disconnect himself from humanity? Was this not proof, right before him, that the chains he carried could not be contained. Though Xiao generally thought of humans as vaguely useless, deserving of protection because Rex Lapis proclaimed it be so, the idea of harming any one of them with the legacy of his own sins, it was something that he could never stomach, no matter how many times he feigned apathy. That you should be the person upon who his burdens should be transferred, how could he bear it?

Of course a small, more logical, part of him urged the adeptus to stop and think. The miasma that Xiao attracted in such high concentration was everywhere, and humans were not exempt from this burden by themselves. After all, did humanity not channel great evil as well as good? Did not the most ordinary human, dejected by their lot in life, become swarmed by little wisps of evil? Yet those were other, ordinary humans. Ordinary humans couldn’t understand the sheer capability to love that you seemed to possess. No, if Xiao could sense such a miasma around you then it was surely his fault.

Still the idea of leaving you was something quite painful to Xiao, to the adeptus who had so recently learned what it meant to love someone wholeheartedly. He told himself that it was best to leave immediately, best to disappear with the wind and never look back. Yet a part of him couldn’t seem to bear the idea; and that was the part that won out as Xiao approached you later in the day, as if in a desperate last attempt to prove himself wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“Xiao!” You jumped slightly, having evidently been lost in thought. Smiling widely you shook your head. “Of course I’m alright! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I…” Xiao paused for a moment as the idea of telling you what was going on flitted through his head. Almost immediately the thought was squashed. After all, would the knowledge not worry you more? “I was just asking.”

“Well thank you Xiao, it’s very kind of you to think of me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Still,” your smile never faltered. “You deserve thanks for what you do nonetheless.”

Xiao tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, tried to block out the emotions that crashed over him like great waves as you leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Was this not a good thing? After all, if Xiao was what cause this miasma to float around you, then was that not your salvation? Xiao knew how easy it was to drown in the burdens that one must shoulder. He knew how easy it was for humans to sink to the bottom of their despair and never once more emerge for water. Why should it not be a blessing that you would never have to fight to keep your head up, to keep yourself from a life full of burdens? Why, why did it hurt so much?

During the night, Xiao would leave during the night. After all, you deserved one last evening of happiness, if the yaksha could even believe that he brought you happiness. Or maybe it was for his sake that he refused to leave before the world was plunged into darkness. Maybe it was simply that Xiao could no longer imagine a world without you, and that such nightmares came out easier at night. Lying on top of the roof, eyes closed, ears focused on the familiar tread of your feet, Xiao willed himself not to think. He could regret when he was far away from you, when you were once more safe. For now he could only follow that ritual which had so long kept him sane, kept him from joining his brethren. For now he thought only of the contract he had once made.

The sound of your feet on the ground below came all too soon, as the sun finally began its descent across the heavens in earnest. Keeping his eyes closed, as if to stall the darkness for a little longer, Xiao took a deep breath in. He needed to steel himself for this evening; if not, well, Xiao had no wish to cry for the first time in a millennia.

Only once these thoughts finished flitting around in his head did the yaksha finally recognize the change in your footfall. Usually you were very light on your feet, dashing this way and that, stopping to ask Goldet or Yanxiao some mundane question, inquiring after the old lady who had basically set up permanent residence on the bottom floor of the Inn. This time, however, you seemed to drag, as if you were indeed carrying something very heavy. Alarm flashing through him, Xiao willed himself into perfect stillness. He wished to hear more, wished to understand what had caused such a change in you.

What he certainly hadn’t expected was the labored breathing of someone seconds away from tears.

The moment Xiao heard the door to your room close the sobbing began in earnest. Though you certainly seemed to be trying your hardest to hide your tears the sound of your muffled sobs rang through Xiao like a siren, flaring up every bit of alarm he had to offer. Jumping off of the roof Xiao catapulted his way through the hallways of the Inn, not bothering to hide his presence to the few, very confused, residents that were out. Reaching your room he didn’t allow himself a moment’s hesitation before grabbing the knob and opening the door.

Your head snapped up, eyes a mixture of dark emotions as you stared at him. For a moment you seemed ready to flee, to run and hide somewhere, or perhaps to throw him out. However almost immediately you seemed to sink back into yourself, and though Xiao could still sense your distress, at least the initial shock of his arrival seemed to have passed as quickly as it would otherwise.

“Xiao! I, I didn’t expect you. I, could, could you leave? I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want to be seen right now.” It was all you could get out before another round of sobs wracked through your body.

Trying to remember what you had done for so many people, for himself, Xiao grabbed the pitcher that sat at one of the tables in the room. Pouring some water into a glass he crept towards you as softly as possible, hoping that he could convey his worries in these odd, brusque actions. He knew that he didn’t have the talent you had to comfort people, knew that all his gestures of kindness inevitably came out cramped and awkward. Nevertheless he shoved the glass into your hands, staring just past you as you tentatively downed the water. Taking the glass from you Xiao then reached out one of his palms to you. His relief when you placed your own palm on top of his was indescribable.

“I guess you probably would like an explanation,” you rasped out.

Xiao said nothing, waiting for you to act on your own. If he knew anything the yaksha knew that attempting to force the truth out of anyone would never worked. Hadn’t his own years as a pariah taught him that.

“It’s just,” you finally continued, taking in deep, labored breaths. “It’s just so hard. It’s so hard Xiao, I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Stand it?”

“Stand the… the hurt!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you went to grab the handkerchief that you left on your nightstand. You always needed one with you, as your eyes stung terribly whenever you began to cry. Xiao said nothing as you sobbed once more, only moving to draw small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“It hurts so much, to see other people. To hear their problems. Not that it’s their fault, or that I don’t want to help them. I do, I really do. I look at all the people suffering near me and I just want to take all their burdens and give it to myself, after all they don’t deserve all their sufferings. But it’s so hard Xiao, it’s so hard to take on people’s burdens, even a little bit. And I feel so selfish when I think that, so selfish and so worthless. How can I say that? But it’s true, it’s really, really true. And when I think about that, when I think about all the other people suffering worse than me, it just makes me feel so horribly selfish. Like, like all my problems are so stupid and selfish and telling others would only hurt them, and didn’t I want to take everyone else’s burdens away? I’m so stupid. And it just, it hurts.”

Xiao sat there quietly once more, waiting as you cried. At one point you seemed to collapse in on yourself, leaning against his shoulder as if to support yourself. Only then did Xiao allow himself to move. Carding his hands through your hair he said nothing, he merely waited.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. You already have enough burdens, I know. I shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people. I, if you want you can tell me if something is wrong. I mean, you always can, I, just. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“My burdens are my own,” Xiao replied softly, finally letting the emotions swirling through him try to string together as words. “It has nothing to do with you. It never will. You, you should come to me when you feel burdened.”

“But then I’m only passing my problems onto you!”

“I told you, my chains are my own. They are the payment for my contract. They aren’t what you tell me or push on me. If you feel these burdens then give to me. That is my duty.”

“But Xiao, I, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“How can you say something so stupid,” Xiao scoffed. Bringing his hand to your cheek he sighed softly. “You will never be a problem. You will always be dear to me. Let me help you. You help so many humans. I want to help you.”

“I, I don’t know,” you spoke, voice faltering.

Though Xiao could still feel the tension in the air, could still see the miasma which swirled around you, there was something fragile about it. It was as if Xiao could reach through the tangled threads and pull them away, if only he could find a way to do so. Stroking your cheek softly Xiao pressed his forehead to yours. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in. After a few moments he heard you do the same.

The rest of the evening Xiao stayed vigilant by your side, listening as you finally let yourself say all the things that had been weighing down upon you. It was painful, listening to you. Xiao constantly had to fight the urge to tell you how wrong you were, how much you mattered and how far he would go to bring you all the happiness he could possible gather in his stained hands. Still he said nothing, for if you had taught him anything it was that simply listening could do infinitely more than promising to fight or trying to shoulder each burden as you lay them out in the daylight.

Eventually you grew exhausted, a combination of the crying and the talking and the reliving. As Xiao listened to your breath even out, softly shifting your head from leaning on his shoulder to resting in his lap, the yaksha thought about all that had happened.

Xiao had assumed that you were somehow above all the humans around you. Purer, gentler, kinder. He hadn’t stopped to think how that might have affected you. Now that he knew that wasn’t true, now that Xiao knew how deeply you felt, how sometimes your mind too chased after darkness or found itself struggling to keep above water, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d missed something before. Perhaps you shouldered these burdens and perhaps you were just as human as the rest. You were still kind, kind and selfless and utterly beautiful. And Xiao still loved you in a way that continued to burn brightly through his soul.

[sukirichi]

earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the  glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

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