#do you ever escape your past just to forget about it after erasing it from your mind and then it comes back to bite you

[ebitenpura]

me: I feel like i'm forgetting something plotwise. huh. well it's probably not important sleeps

me jolting awake at 4 am : EIGHT CAN'T WORK FOR THE REPUBLIC HIS PAST IS STILL THERE

[luvxoxo]

Q. how does one get over their first love?

synopsis: asking jjk men personal questions that they have to answer honestly

part 2 of my: jujutsu kaisen interview series

includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo: "over their first love?” he takes a moment to answer. It is a difficult question. he turns his head away, seeming a bit troubled. Gojo eventually smiles warmly and speaks up "sometimes, you don't. you hold on to that love your entire life, despite how much it may hurt. It's... a bit like a scar, don't you think? you never lose the physical reminder of their presence" he smiles "but, over time, that scar becomes a bittersweet memory. while there may be pain attached to it, there is also happiness. I don't think you'll ever truly get over your first love. you’ll always hold a place for them in your heart. you’ll always have hope that things will work out, that you'll get back together, etc. It may not seem like much of a consolation, but that's the truth. and it's far more meaningful than trying to forget about your first love. they shouldn't be forgotten at all, even by the passage of time"

Geto: he crosses his arms "that’s a rather tricky question" he’s quiet for awhile before answering "the best way to get over one's first love, in my opinion, is to realize that the 'first love' they had, was merely an experience, and does not define who they are or the future relationships they may have. It will take time and patience. a lot of it. time to heal and understand that it was the past and the future awaits to be written. patience is needed to wait for that future and not to dwell on past relationships"

Geto tucks a few strands of hair that managed to escape behind his ears. he speaks softly

"and, do be kind to yourself in this hard and tough journey. the path to love is never easy. no matter what others tell you"

Nanami: he takes a second to think and starts speaking in a slower, more contemplative tone. "getting over one's first love can be very difficult or very easy depending on the person. it is usually the first case. but at the same time, the person you first fell in love with can leave a mark and memory for the rest of one's life. this does not mean you should let this person hold you back from any of the other relationships, opportunities, etc, that may come. in other words, letting go and growing is an important step for your next stage in life. and again, life doesn’t really stop for anyone" he pauses to add on "it’s everyone’s first life. you’re human. you’ll heal. you’ll let go. you’ll be okay"

Toji: he rests his arms on the sofa and smirks "find someone new to love. duh. there are plenty of fish in the sea you know?"

hearing his response your eyes can't help but twitch in annoyance "pardon me?"

Toji exhales loudly, almost as if you're the one being difficult "alright I'll be serious. the first love is always the hardest, but it’s important to remember that it doesn’t always have to be that way. sometimes, the key is accepting that the relationship wasn't meant to be. sounds harsh but life’s even more harsh. sometimes, you have to let go of that first love so you can move on to something better"

you nod eagerly, urging him to not stop and finish his thoughts

"but don't be afraid to fall in love again. yes, it’s gonna hurt if it doesn’t work out, but if you’re always afraid of it happening, then you’ll never know if there was something better for you. just be sure to use your head before you decide to open your heart again"

Megumi: he blinks and ponders about the question deeply in his head "a first love is a difficult and complicated experience. It can be difficult to let go, especially after you've shared so many memories and experiences together. however, it's important to remember that even if the relationship didn't work out, that doesn't mean they weren't important or that you need to erase them from your mind. Instead, accept the situation for what it is and work on creating new bonds that can fill the void left after the breakup. It may take time and effort" he nods firmly "but eventually the pain from that first love will subside. and you’ll be alright"

Yuji: he grips his chin, thinking seriously "well, i guess you don’t really get over it. you learn to live with it. you learn to accept that things ended for a reason and that love isn’t something that’s meant to last forever most of the time. enjoy the time you have with the person you love, even if they aren’t the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. that love is a good memory to have, so don’t ruin it" he smiles before saying "and also? if they leave you? let them. you deserve someone who wants to stay. and will stay. dont let anyone make you think otherwise!"

ⓒ all rights reserved. don't plagiarize my work or translate it!

Reblogs are appreciated!!

[invidiia]

Could I request yan dazai or ranpo (which ever you'd prefer) with someone really forgetful, like someone who can forget events or whatever's currently happening out of nowhere and is just confused. Thank you. 💕💖

꒰ YAN!Dazai and Ranpo (separately) obsessing over a forgetful reader ꒱

notes ; yesyeyesyeysyyeyyeysy!!!!!! i've been kinda obsessing over ranpo and dazai for the past few days, i love them!!! i'm pretty forgetful with my condition so writing this feels a little self indulgent , but i'm happy to write it!! oh, and when you get called dumb, i'm not trying to say forgetful people are dumb, nonono, the characters are just mean LOL

warnings ; manipulation, gaslighting, TOXICITY, kidnapping scenarios at the end of each character's part, unhealthy relationships, implied stalking in dazai's part

RANPO is the type to make you feel like a big idiot. While he does care about how you feel, he just needs to push you over the edge and into his arms..

⋆ Ranpo's the type to laugh at you and call you an idiot for forgetting your super important meetings. He purposely makes you cry, and when he sees the tears staring to drip down, a false face of sympathy moves closer to you pulling you onto his shoulder, hugging you tightly until your tears are no longer dampening his cape.

⋆ Ranpo loves you, and that's why he does what he does. Not that he doesn't take pleasure in making you cry and feel dumb, but he can't have you all depressed every day, can he?

⋆ After insulting you and telling you that you're an idiot, Ranpo pretty much gives you extra love for the rest of the day. He stays by your side, petting your hair. He doesn't take back the mocking, and instead, he tells you that it's okay, and it was cute that you pretty much need him to remember everything for you. He just wants you to need him. It makes falling for him a little easier, right?

⋆ Now.. being kidnapped in your situation? Ranpo doesn't really think you're capable of that. Not to insult you, but he doesn't worry too much about you escaping. He does keep a close eye on you, though.

DAZAI is the type of guy to mess with you about it. He has no problem with your forgetfulness, but uses it against you. the worst thing is? you'll probably never know he did..

⋆ Dazai was more than okay with you being forgetful! When he noticed it, he offered to remind you about anything you needed to remember. How nice, right?

⋆ He even got you a gift, a tiny whiteboard and a dry erase marker!! A cutely styled to-do list, perfect to help you remember everything you needed to remember, like important meetings, or a case you were put on.

⋆ He probably messes with the white board, erasing everything you needed to do, and watching you forget to go do the thing you were supposed to do. Laughing to himself while you got lightly scolded for forgetting. And you never even knew that he touched the board to begin with; you just assumed you forgot!

⋆ Why does he do this? For his own enjoyment. That, and making you believe you're too forgetful for the dangerous things you're supposed to do in the agency. He may just drive you to quit your job. Strangely, even when you aren't at the agency, Dazai always seems to appear next to you to remind you about the wallet you forgot at the store, your phone you dropped in the park without noticing, or with the book you were supposed to return to the library that you accidently left somewhere.

⋆ I think Dazai is really similar to Ranpo in the situation where you're kidnapped. He doesn't really have any concerns about you escaping from him. Every time you say it'll happen, he just nods and laughs, humoring you for your claims. He just can't take you seriously - do you ACTUALLY think you can get away from him of all people?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hiya could we get some analysis of Family Line from Bambi's perspective??

Here we go!

My father never talked a lot He just took a walk around the block 'Til all his anger took a hold of him And then he'd hit Metaphorically, Alexia, who very famously didn't talk at all to anyone about her PPD

My mother never cried a lot She took the punches, but she never fought 'Til she said, "I'm leaving, and I'll take the kids" So she did Jenni's Version!Jenni ending up 'taking Bambi' after taking care of her after the neglect. She was really at the end of her patience

I say they're just the ones who gave me life But I truly am my parents' child Bambi trying to draw a line between Alexia and Mami in Jenni's Version. Alexia gets demoted from Mami to just the woman who birthed her but Bambi is still impacted by the way Alexia raised her in those first few years

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies Bambi lies about her eating disorder in both versions and she's so well practiced at it

That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered 'cross my family line Bambi's lying and pushing people away when times get tough definitely comes from Alexia

God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry Bambi doesn't really look much like her family. Sometimes the only thing that links her is she cries the same way Jaume does

I can run, but I can't hide From my family line Bambi can leave the country with Jenni and she can dance in England and France but she can't ever fully escape the trauma that she has

It's hard to put it into words How the holidays will always hurt The 'holidays' being a metaphor for football. It's always a bit of a sore spot in Bambi's life just because when she was younger it was always football or nothing

I watch the fathers with their little girls And wonder what I did to deserve this Seeing Alexia with Jaume and wondering why he got the special treatment even back when he was a baby

How could you hurt a little kid? I can't forget, I can't forgive you 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me Bambi's neglect causes her some pretty severe self worth issues. Her eating disorder and the feelings associated with that can be traced back to her self worth but also how she loves in her relationships and her feelings surrounding them

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies Bambi's used to saying one thing but actually thinking another

That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered 'cross my family line Bambi's idea of 'surviving' is very closely associated with being perceived well by others. If she has to be a completely different person with them then she will be

God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry Bambi kind of wishes she looks more like Alexia than she actually does. She thinks if it were more obvious than she wouldn't have been forgotten so easily I can run, but I can't hide From my family line From my family line Bambi in Alexia's Version sometimes having random regressions and just being filled with rage at how she was treated. It creeps up randomly

Oh, all that I did to try to undo it All of my pain and all your excuses Bambi tried so hard to be perfect and to be noticed by Alexia but it didn't happen until it was too late

I was a kid but I wasn't clueless (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) Sometimes, when Bambi lies in bed, she wonders if Alexia has ever actually loved her or if she was born simply to be the trial run before Jaume

All of my past, I tried to erase it But now I see, would I even change it? Jenni's Version!Bambi completely changing herself into Bambi Hermoso in an attempt to forget about her own past

Might share a face and share a last name, but (We are not the same) Bambi and Alexia are similar, definitely, but Jenni's Version!Bambi will never admit that

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies Bambi is a really good liar. She's so used to lying about how she's feeling and what's she doing

That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered across my family line Bambi starts lying about her feelings super young and it just carries through to adulthood. She knows what people want to hear so she tells them it

God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry Bambi is always somewhat connected with Alexia one way or another even in Jenni's Version

I can run, but I can't hide From my family line From my family line Her childhood left a big mark on Bambi. From the way she feels about herself to how she forms relationships, it can all be traced back to when she was younger

[mayashesfly]

Do you ever think about how Makoto still retains all of his memories clearly while Yuma has lost his memories twice?

One of the things that intrigues me before was Makoto's comment about a bath when Yuma first met him.

It's quite a strange thing to say to a stranger

If you didn't know about the fact that Makoto is Yuma's homunculi

He describes a bath as a fleeting dream. Something temporary and neverlasting.

And attributes a bath, a fleeting dream according to his words, as "Washing away your sweat and past" and "Being born anew"

Taking sweat literally, it's a given. As the purpose of a bath is to cleanse ourselves as well as wash away the sweat we accumulated over time.

But taking sweat a bit more metaphorically, we can say that sweat represents the hardships one has experienced. Taking a bath is also our way to give ourselves a break from a busy day and relieve ourselves from the hardships we had experience during the day.

However, the past thing is a bit more strange and less straightforward in its reasoning. While a bath can wash away our past physical filth, it can't actually wash away our actual past.

And while a bath is refreshing and makes us feel rejuvenated, it does not actually "born us anew". In a way, to say that a bath can wash away our sweat and past and born us anew is a lie. An illusion. A temporary placebo effect if you will.

A fleeting dream.

Just like Makoto had said.

Applying his words on himself, Makoto acknowledges that a bath which he attributes to "washing away your sweat and past" and "being born anew" is nothing but a fleeting dream. A temporary thing to relief himself.

The thing about Makoto is that he cannot wash away his past. He still remembers and knows that he is Number One's homunculi and nothing can change that. He also knows that he is the only perfect homunculi to ever be made in existence.

No matter how much he may try, he cannot change that. Nor forget it. As it is a part of his memory, inherited or not.

As for the born anew part, I want to talk about something else first before delving into that.

When Makoto first entered Kanai Ward, he created the rain machine to stop the Blank Week Mystery. At this point of time, he would've already known that he was Number One's homunculi and that the new residents of Kanai Ward are also homunculi.

Rain can also be taken as a sort of symbolic bath.

There are times that people do take a bath in the rain for fun. With their clothes on of course.

And Makoto did mention that he also sometimes takes a bath with his clothes on.

And also, Makoto doesn't even use an umbrella or even a raincoat to protect himself from the rain when he's outside.

(My guy you are going to get sick. Get a hat or something! Why are my favs like this??)

The rain washed away the literal blood, sweat and tears of the previous human residents of Kanai Ward. And washed away the past atrocities the new residents had done in their mindless rampage away from their mind.

This was the moment Makoto Kagutsuchi's past of being an escaped lab experiment of the UG had been washed away.

And the moment Makoto Kagutsuchi was born anew as Amatarasu Corporation's CEO and the defacto leader and protector of Kanai Ward.

But like how the rain didn't completely washed away the aftermath of the Blank Wrek Mystery, the rain didn't completely washed away Makoto's past and memories.

Makoto is still stained and soiled from the past, regardless of how many baths he may take, it will never wash away.

A bath is nothing but a fleeting dream after all.

It is used to merely soothe. Never to completely erase away.

Now onto Yuma!

Applying these words on Yuma, we get a different result.

An intriguing thing about Makoto's words is that he uses to pronoun "Your" and "You're" while talking to Yuma.

While we can say that he's just using the pronoun "your" and "you're" to refer to an ambiguous you.

It's much more interesting if he is actually directing these words at Yuma himself.

"Your sweat and past are washed away. You're born anew"

Looking at it in this way, it's seems more like Makoto acknowledging the fact that Yuma is his original and that Yuma has lost his memories.

Upon entering Kanai Ward, the cage of rain, Yuma's sweat and past has been washed away. And with his memories and experiences of hardships during his time as Number One disappearing, he had quite literally been born anew.

He's quite different from how Number One acts after all. He's more trusting, more naive. More innocent. Unlike Number One.

Shinigami even comments on this, even indirectly.

He doesn't remember his past or his time at the WDO or being Number One. He doesn't remember anything and he was convinced that his real name is Yuma Kokohead.

That's quite unlike Makoto.

His contract with Shinigami had been so effective at washing away his past that he practically acted like a completely different person. Completely different from the Number One others knew.

Unlike Makoto's crude rebirth, Yuma's was a complete one.

His past had been washed away effectively, leaving behind no stains or soil. While we do see that Yuma retains his strong sense of justice and detective skills among other things, his memories on the matter are blurry. He feels the vague sensation of familiarity but not the actual memory associated with that sensation. It's fascinating.

Unlike Makoto whose memories still cling onto him, Yuma's memories are like the murky water that was washed away. He can try to cling onto the water as much as he likes but it eventually seeps out and away with only the sensation of wetness being left.

Not that Yuma actively searches for his memories. Though we do see Yuma wondering about his knowledge and his past self at times, finding his memories isn't his main goal. Finding his purpose and reason to find the truth is his main goal.

And it's because of this that he grew more than Makoto ever did. He surpassed the restrictions the past has given him and was born anew.

It makes Yuma recovering his memories as Number One but also losing his memories as Yuma after breaking his contract with Shinigami rather intriguing, but also in a way, tragic.

He was born anew yet again. But we're uncertain if Yuma's growth transferred to the newly reborn Number One.

It's quite tragic that we don't know what happened with Yuma after losing and regaining his memories yet again. While Makoto still retains his memories and knowledge of Number One Yuma.

It's quite unfair, isn't it?

[loveshineetaemin]

Jonghyun's relationship with his dad

Jonghyun himself shared that his father was never really present when he was growing up. He said his father was always absent due to work. There is only one photo of them togetheR. I don’t think his father was ever truly there.It’s unclear whether his parents divorced, but it’s likely they separated at some point during his childhood.

Jonghyun tried to make sense of it, to explain it away, saying his father was “always away for work,” but let’s call it what it was—abandonment. It wasn’t just physical absence. His father’s words lingered, cruel and permanent, like scars cut into him as a boy. He told Jonghyun he was untalented, that he would fail. Can you imagine the weight of those words? A child with dreams, carrying his father’s contempt like a stone in his chest, trying to move forward but always being pulled back by the belief that maybe, just maybe, his father was right.

That belief poisoned him. Even years later, as Jonghyun’s confidence withered and his light began to dim, those doubts—those words—never truly left. They were whispers in his mind, echoes of a father who was never there to love him, only to tear him down.

In 2015, when he was asked about his childhood, he said it was something he had forgotten or at least tried to forget. Can you imagine what kind of pain it takes to want to erase your own life? But forgetting doesn’t erase anything—it only buries it alive, and Jonghyun spent his life haunted by what he buried. He grew up in a “strict household,” shaped by the presence of a man who wasn’t there in body but who ruled over him all the same. That’s the tragedy of it: even in his father’s absence, he had power. Even in his absence, he left wounds that never healed.

Jonghyun tried to sever those ties. He threw away his baby photos, his videos—every trace of the boy he once was. But his mother hid some of them, as if she knew he could never truly escape his past, no matter how hard he tried. I think Jonghyun wished he could stop caring, wished he could just forget, but he couldn’t. He was too sensitive, too tender for this world. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care about his father, about his childhood, but he did. He cared so much it destroyed him.

He once shared a moment from his past that still makes my heart ache. After buying his mother and sister a house, he got drunk one night and broke down completely. He cried and screamed, waking everyone up, asking them, “Are you happy?” And when they said yes—so quickly, so effortlessly—he couldn’t understand it. “Why can’t I be happy?” he sobbed. Can you hear him? Can you see him, broken and desperate, crumbling under the weight of everything he carried? He gave everything he had to the people he loved, but there was nothing left for himself.

He grew up too fast, forced into the role of the “man of the house” when he was still just a boy. His family lived in poverty for years, surviving on government support while his father was nowhere to be found. It’s as if Jonghyun was robbed of everything—his childhood, his innocence, even his ability to hope. He bore the weight of being the provider, the protector, the one who had to hold it all together. But how do you hold others together when you are falling apart yourself?

When he passed, I searched for his father at the funeral. I waited, thinking maybe, just maybe, a shred of humanity might show itself, but there was nothing. No sign of him. No grief. No guilt. It’s as if he never existed. And maybe that’s the saddest part of all: Jonghyun’s father didn’t just abandon him in life—he abandoned him in death, too.

I’ve thought a lot about why Jonghyun wanted to marry and become a father so quickly. Maybe he was searching for something he’d never had. Maybe he thought he could rewrite his story by becoming the father he never knew—loving, present, kind. But life doesn’t give us clean slates. You can’t outrun the past, and you can’t love someone else enough to heal the wounds inside you. I think Jonghyun knew that. I think it haunted him.

He spent his life searching for happiness—searching, clawing, begging for a light to fill the cracks in him. But happiness isn’t something you find. Searching for it only makes the emptiness deeper. And that emptiness swallowed him whole.

Jonghyun lived a life filled with music, with laughter, with love, but underneath it all was a boy who never stopped hurting. He was fragile in ways the world couldn’t see, carrying the weight of words he never deserved to hear and wounds he didn’t know how to heal. His story feels like a tragedy because it is one—a tragedy of absence, of neglect, of a father who was never there, and of a boy who loved too deeply and hurt too much.

Sometimes, I think about him crying that night, asking “Why can’t I be happy?” And it breaks me, because he deserved happiness. He deserved peace. He deserved to be free from the shadows of his past.

But life wasn’t kind to Jonghyun. And now all we can do is remember him—the light he gave us, the beauty he created, the pain he carried—and mourn what could have been.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Are you happy, Strange? - Chapter 4

!Multiverse of Madness Spoilers ahead!

Stephen never opened up to anyone. Neither about his regrets of the past, nor his reoccuring nightmares of the future. But when a certain universe-traveling girl revealed that the woman in his few pleasant dreams is meant to be his Soulmate, he is determined to meet her.

Sadly, when he finally finds you, the Sorcerer has already been possessed by the Darkhold...

[Previous Chapter]

Warnings: Angst, Stockholm-Syndrome

"I'm in love with a fairytale Even though it hurts 'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind I'm already cursed" - Alexander Rybak

This has been going on for two months now.

God knows if Strange had prepared an explanation for your absence to your friends and coworkers or if anyone was searching for you, but they'd certainly not suspect you being held captured by one of the Earth's mightiest heroes.

You never wanted this farce to take as long as it did, but ever since you had awaken from this trance your altered memories needed some time to be rearranged.

Back then, when he still had you in his powerful grasp, you thought the heart- and headaches stemmed from that alledged illness of yours - but things were different now. You knew it was your mind and body's attempt to break free from the effect of this dark magic all along.

Maybe you had built an resistance against his spell, or it simply lost it's effect after being cast so many times on the same being - if that was even possible, that is. But all you knew was that one morning, you remembered the day before. Every detail of it.

A day like many before, when you once again realized something was off and questioned your relationship with your mage - yet this time, he wasn't able to make you forget.

You were smart enough not to tell him, never confronting him demanding answers or an explanation. Knowing what you did, it was certain he'd find another way to erase your memory - to trap you, keep you his.

So you kept on with this play, acted like the loving wife just to find any clue about what this maniac really wanted from you.

The man seemed like the Doctor Strange you knew from television only, but you could never be sure. What business would a much-loved hero like him have with a nobody like you? But on the other hand, there's no reason for someone else to appear just like him, right?

There was no way to fully grasp this situation - however after all this time, you knew for sure that no barrier, no magic or hero could stop this person when it came to conquering you again and again and again.

Stephen Strange would stop at nothing to keep you here.

So it was excruciatingly hard for you to play along with this pretend, well aware that behind this innocent facade of a man, an all-powerful eldritch sorcerer was lurking, threatening to snap at any time.

You'd bite back on a scream every time he touched you, skin scrawling with every kiss that crept you out so much. Resisted the urge to run from this man that had become both a familiar person yet still a stranger.

Allowing yourself to cry only when the beast next to you laid fast asleep, searching for a way to escape whenever he was gone to do tasks you wouldn't know about.

How could he not notice the shift in your behavior, the obvious change of the atmosphere ever since you became aware?

Maybe he simply did not want to - caught so deep in his delusions without a way back now...

...or he might just get his sick pleasure from seeing you all obedient to him, even without having to repeat the magic.

You felt empty, hallow, like he ripped out a part of you - just to keep it for himself, in a desperate attempt to fill the hole in his strickened heart.

However, that wasn't good enough an explanation to ease your pain...

...but whatever else than your heart would someone like you have to offer? Money, strenght, influence? Ridiculous thoughts, since you possessed none of this.

Did he do it for the sheer fun of it, feeling mighty to have so much power over a life? Was that it, and you were simply being the playtoy of an allmighty mage, out of his sheer boredom?

All of your questions led to dead ends, not even close to the plain truth - that Stephen Strange was only ever aiming to have the normal life he was never granted.

And as time passed, weeks turning into months, you were shocked to find yourself growing fond of the man you had become used to live with.

It started almost unnoticeable, with you laughing genuinely as the two of you danced in the kitchen, Stephen carelessly swirling you around in his arms. Thinking back about his compliments and promises, how he was showering you with affection and declared to give you everything you wished for in life. How worried you became when he returned home injured from a fight, brushing it off as a violent patient's outburst.

The mortifying sensation of passion whenever your phony husband kissed you with more urgency in his touch - even though never crossed this line. Never.

And over all this time being with him, not even once he showed any other intention than truly wanting to be close to you. You knew it every time he looked at you with that sincere smile, eyes shining with such great fondness it was almost startling you.

Strange seemed so genuinely happy in your presence, without scheming anything remotely evil - the opposite, even...

...and sooner or later, you ultimatively grew tired, exhausted of feeling all that hate and rage, of struggling against the irrational affection you now felt slowly but steadily growing for your abductor.

"Stephen?"

It was far past midnight when you finally gathered the courage to speak up, almost whimpering his name in the darkness. Your husband hummed in approval, laying his arm around your body that stiffly remained on it's back.

"Can I tell you something?" Strange raised an eyebrow at you, wondering what could be so important at this time in the middle of the night. He cleared his throat, raspy voice giving it's best to appear inviting. "Sure, go ahead."

"After I've lost my parents and five years of my life to the snap, I felt a burning hate for you allowing all this to happen."

Strange jumped up in the bed, both alarmed and bewildered at how calm you were declaring this. You however still remained on the mattress, hands folded above your chest as you stared at the ceiling.

"I don't know how long you've trapped me in here, but I think it's not long ago that I found out you had also lost someone during the time of your absence, right?" Now turning to face him, your piercing glare showed more reverence than aversion, remembering the newspaper article about Christine's wedding. "Only then I began to understand the importance of sacrifices for the greater good...and learned to forgive you."

Stephen soaked everything word you spoke like a dry sponge, astonishment and fear present in his features.

"I-I don't know, I-" you choked on a sob, balling a fist in the sheet at all those confusing emotions inside of you. "Back then, I just needed someone to channel all of my anger and frustration onto - otherwise, I would've just bursted through all the grief."

Tasting your own tears on your lips, you smiled weakly, defeated at the sorcerer, reassuringly putting your hand on his. "And I think you did the same to me - but you showered me with all the love you were never able to give someone before."

Stephen's mouth opened and closed noiselessly a few times before giving it up, head burying in his hands in despair. You could physically feel the pressure in the air, of how the formerly nice man grew more cold again.

Shouldn't he be glad that you stopped resisting?

But he wasn't. It felt terrible, his consciousness eating him alive as the consequences of his actions began creeping up, catching up on him.

What has he done to you, all this time?!

"Are you mad at me?" That question got him out of nowhere. He, angry with you?! It should be the complete opposite way! "Wha-no! Never! I-I"

"You know, I wanted to visit you." Chuckling weakly you interrupted him, knowing nothing he said could change anything he had done. "I know it sounds weird, stupid even. There have been countless people like me. And telling a great hero like you such an insignificant story...but I thought it would lift the weight on my heart, you know? And maybe, in the other universes, that was how the versions of us have met...and fell in love."

"I-I knew we'd eventually meet and fall for each other" the guilt-ridden Strange managed to wring out, "But- you don't understand. Being with me is dangerous! It-"

"We cannot change fate from happening, Stephen. Certain things are destined to happen." Were you still talking about this topic, or your emotions towards him? "Loss and death are steady parts of our lives, and nothing to be afraid of. I've learned this through my parents - through you."

No answer, instead heartfelt sobs echoed through the room, a faint glow of purple surrounding his fingertips

"Are you going to erase me now?"

Strange screamed as he fought the demons inside of him, letting out a roar until all air had left his lungs. He collapsed, now kneeling in front of you facing the ground. "No! I swear! I will bring an end to this right now!"

Instead of casting the spell once again, the room around you shifted. All illusions ceased until they disappeared fully, leaving both of you on the floor of the Sanctum's basement - and then, you heared the door to this prison of yours unlocking itself through his magic.

"Was it too much to ask for some happiness?" Stephen was shaking, glossy eyes searching you as he spoke to himself in a voice so small, it made familiar tears sting in your eyes.

Even through everything he's done, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man you had so many memories with. The fake ones had disappeared into thin air, like corrupted files on a computer.

Yet the time you had spent here, with him...it preserved.

Maybe if he didn't do this from the beginning, then- "Can you make me forget again?"

"Huh?" The broken man looked up to you now, confused and honestly forlorn. "Completely, making me forget about everything."

"Why would you want that?"

"I-I don't know, so we can start anew? Get to know each other naturally, and- I will fall in love with you again. You said it yourself, it's predetermined."

Again.

Such a small yet powerful word, resonaiting in his head.

"Y/N..." Strange was looking at you, almost reverently at this undeserved angel in front of him. "Please, forgive me...I will make this up to you. I-I love you, Y/N, I really do!"

The sorcerer reached out for you, his hand lingering on your cheek as you trustingly leaned into his touch. This time, his magic felt different than before. Warm. Familiar. Soothing. Like a part of you. You closed your eyes, smiling in peace at the thought of this yet unlived love-story...

...however, just before the spell could have it's effect on you, the door slammed open, a magic shot by the person kicking it in separating the two of you.

"Hands off of her, Strange!" Wong demanded harshly, another bunch of allies storming after him in assistance. Within the blink of an eye they had you surrounded, not even their allied forces enough to somewhat contain Doctor Strange.

The Sorcerer Supreme had his eye on his friend for a long time now, certain that having used the Darkhold - even crossing the line of possessing a corpse with it - exacts a great fee, even of the inheritly good and strong-willed.

What they did not expect however was how far this sinister side of him would go if it came to protect you.

And overwhelmed by the sight of the least experienced disciples restraining you as well, Strange saw red.

It was a horrendrous sight, honestly - how the former hero had completely lost himself in that moment. Unable to hide his true appearance any longer, the enraged and unhinged Strange acted on pure instinct.

Stephen's skin was worryingly pale, dark grey circles present under his eyes. His orbs were darkened and now constantly shining purple - all three of them.

You had no idea what tremendous power he tried to suppress all this time, and how much it had been nourishing on his soul ever since.

Even his appartent allies were both afraid and astonished at the sheer amount of dark energy this man possessed through the Darkhold's amplification.

"It's worse than we expected!" Wong ordered the others, sensing no threat from you whatsoever - even though he had no clue what you had to do with all this. "We need to get the girl out of here, quick!"

"No!" you shouted with all of your might, much to their surprise being able to break free from their magic hold. In an instant, faster than the others who gained their distance to Strange could reach you, you ran over to him. "Stephen, can you hear me?!"

Nothing more than a growl as response, you were unsure whether the real Strange was actually able to hear you right now. But even though you were clueless about the spiritual world, you knew this would be your last chance to get through to him before his old self would vanish.

"Now!" Wong proclaimed, so all of the mages that were on defense until now would hold him in place with their eldritch whips - to no avail. And before you knew what you had unveiled at yourself, you were standing defenselessly in front of the furious Strange...

...who did not attack you.

"Stephen?" you whimpered, tears of worry shimmering in your eyes ever so slightly. The man was hovering slightly above the ground, three purple eyes locked on you cautiously. "Stephen, it's me, Y/N. Please, come back to me!"

The tension in the air was so thick one could cut right through it, only Stephen's fastened pants audible as everone else had fallen dead silent. If you could settle this without a fight that might destroy the Sanctum, then so be it.

You hugged his thorso, carefully and hesistant for his pained groans left you on high alert. Yet slowly but steadily, the sorcerer would calm down and as his feet touched the ground again, he collapsed right into your arms. "Y/N, I...what happened? Are you alright? What did I do?!"

Your pained smile couldn't gloss over the fact that Wong and the others had used the moment to close in on the two of you, harshly shackling a Strange that had already sucked every ounce of fight from his will.

When they took him with them, only Wong and you remaining in the month-long prison that had become home in your heart, you made a promise.

"I will find you again, no matter what!

[Next Chapter]

[imagination-mess]

Alpha's Omega In Heat

*REQUESTED*

This Au takes place in the future, not the past. Enjoy my crappy writing headcanons. :3

Manjiro Sano X Reader,

Ken Ryuguni X Reader

Warning: Fluff and sexual themes applied. Consent is considered SEXY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!

Manjiro Sano (Mikey)

With your permission, he will cuddle with you in your safe haven nest.

If you guys have talked about it before, that it is okay for Mikey to relieve your sexual desires. He will do a darn good job.

It may make your heat period, a lot easier and quite adventurous.

He will be sure to provide sweets, but don't think he wouldn't eat them. He will eat it and forget to erase the evidence of the wrapper.

He will provide a bunch of his clothes for your nest during this time exchanging them with the ones that no longer hold his scent.

During this time, he already knows when your heat starts and ends due to him being your alpha, along with being together for a long time

It's a requirement for him to learn it to be sure he is available for you during this vulnerable time.

He has it arranged that his gang business is dealt with before or after this time. If it's an emergency, he assures everyone to contact Draken, because he isn't gonna pick up the phone unless it's Emma or Draken.

He wants to stay home with you because there has been an incident of stranger alpha breaking into your guy's home when he had to go out for a bit.

Let's just say the intruder was almost half dead before the police attempted to rip him off the unconscious alpha. He refused to let them go of his grip until he heard your voice. He immediately snapped out of his rage alpha instinct.

Ever since you guys had moved into a more protective secure building and he refused to leave you alone by yourself again.

There were a lot of what-if scenarios coming through his mind that just caused him to be on the edge and anxious about leaving you alone while having your heat.

He complains if you order him around, but he will do it just for you.

If you don't invite him into your nest, expect him to be outside of your room guarding it.

When he is sleeping in your nest, he goes to sleep, shirtless since skin-to-skin contact calms down your heat due to natural instincts between alpha and omega.

He is overprotective alpha, even friends are not allowed to check on them. He will just kick you without any warning of any sort. Takemitchi was the first and last one to experience his possessive side. His instincts cloud his judgment most of the time when it comes to feeling a threat of another alpha being near what is is his.

The reason why Takemitchi was there was to only deliver self-care bags make by the girlfriends of Toman members.

Mikey does apologize for kicking him, but he will do it again if he comes near his apartment when he is not supposed to be bothered.

Ever since only omegas to betas are permitted to come close to his apartment door to leave the bag or whatever they need to drop off during this time.

He may be a clown, but he will protect you from any danger.

If you want to have fun, the fun you will have, just don't complain afterward. He will just smile innocently as if he was an angel. Not a sinner.

He does have strong self-control when it comes to controlling his own desires and instincts. He will respect your rules if you place any and accept them.

Ken Ryugugi (Draken)

This man will be beyond prepared and have your favorite foods ready a week before your heat is supposed to start. He overstocks on your favorite foods because he doesn't want to experience you crying about it and holding it over his head during that week.

He will already have your heat schedule memorized.

He has already changed the clothes of your nest to new ones that have his scent.

He knows how omegas get when they are in heat due to the environment he grew up in. He was more of the servant to them. At least he gets paid in exchange for him going out and getting whatever they wanted. If he does it quickly, the more money he gets.

He also knows the dangers of omega of being in heat. They are vulnerable and alphas who aren't self-trained lack respect for the minority communities such as betas, and omegas.

He was one of the alphas that protected the girls from intruders from coming in among the other alpha staff.

He will be in the house and available for you whenever you need. He will close the bike shop and tell Toman if it's an emergency to contact Mikey or Mitsuya.

He will do whatever you want, if you want cuddles, cuddles you get.

He has already had a conversation about relieving your heat earlier in your relationship. He wants you to be sure you are okay with it. He always checks on you.

He will respect your wishes and does have good solid self-control of his urges.

He will provide you with meals and painkillers like the sweetheart he is.

If you allow him to relieve your sexual desire, he will always start gently unless you would like something else. he will provide it.

Afterward, he will nuzzle his nose against your jaw and drawing random patterns on your bareback. He will surely fall asleep with you in his arms hearing your purs.

He will provide a lot of kisses and praises when you are cuddling and just relaxing in each other's arms.

He is a protective alpha but isn't clouded by his own instincts due to having a good grip on his natural instincts. However, there are times that it does escape his grip. He would give you brief waring only once with baring his teeth and towering your you when you know to leave him alone. This only happens when alphas are coming to his door during this time.

He may not be like Mikey when it comes to being overprotective, but he will knock you out without any hesitation if you try to intimidate him. It feels like mockery. You will be punch without a thought.

Baji was the one who was teasing him once during his adolescence. Let's just say Baji received broken ribs and a black eye for the joke he did.

I would say Draken is more dangerous due to being more aware of his surroundings and having a good grip of his second gender. He would be calculated if he needs to be.

If it's any other second gender, he will be his normal self, because he doesn't take you as a threat. He can have a normal conversation and stuff, but with an alpha. It's just an instinct to protect your omega from other alphas.

He would draw you out a bath using one bath bomb from the girl's self-care packages and provide massages for you.

He will join you if you ask him to in the bathtub.

Just don't tease him, don't test him. Because you will regret it. Draken maybe teddy bear behind closed doors. He does have his own limits. Don't provoke the bear if you can't handle it.

He will be cocky afterward but provides excellent aftercare.

He will make sure, you have drunk plenty of fluid to keep yourself hydrated.

I hope you enjoy these headcanons. <3

I should do masterlist, I wouldn't have ever thought this blog would blow up so quickly.

[kitacco]

sunrise.

pairing: fem!reader, gojo satoru.

genre: angst with happy ending.

summary: time doesn’t always heal.

cw: mention of manipulation, violence.

wordcount: 4.1k.

! part two of clouds !

the sky is clear when you look up into the sky. even though the sun is not out, and instead, the sky is covered with grey clouds, you still like to believe it’s clear.

he made you believe that the first time you two met.

it wasn’t like you were escaping from reality, he simply thought if there was something you could change, then you should. you believed him, after so long.

how could you describe how he makes you feel? you had never felt it before. he felt like the orange sky adorned by the full sun, illuminating the grass and bringing warmth to the body despite the breeze. was that an exaggeration? probably, he didn’t think so, though. he made you believe you could rewrite reality with only your imagination.

meeting him was fate. he told you that, you thought it was sheer coincidence and two people on the right place. he was a little more romantic than you, though.

you had been to therapy for about two years.

things weren’t easy, and honestly, you wished you could forget about it.

your therapist assured you it wasn’t your fault - it took you a while to understand that.

you were aware that it wasn’t entirely your fault, what happened was a casualty, sadly, an experience you had to go through, but also a lesson you had the opportunity to learn from. it wasn’t easy, you understood that after a year of one session every month. you cried a lot, more than what you expected, and you felt responsible. because, if you hadn’t fallen for him, everything would’ve turned out well.

you were quick to learn that your emotions shouldn’t make you guilty, instead, who was to blame was him.

after a while, you finally accepted it.

gojo never contacted you after everything happened. you wanted to go on with your life like he most likely was, however, you were incapable of creating any type of relationship with people. what used to be a big group of friends became one, and what used to be exciting became scary. your friends, then, insisted you visited a therapist. you didn’t want to, at first. if anything, you wished you could simply erase the situation from your brain for the rest of your life, but how could you when subconsciously you failed to move on? your friend and her husband moved away, and so did you. she left the city while you moved to the other end of the city. not necessarily because you wished to avoid him; your therapist thought it was better to forge relationships from zero. 

another year passed, and he had completely vanished from your life. you hadn’t told your new roommate about it, but you knew your friend had before you moved in. you didn’t mind. you knew she was trying to protect you. but, it’s not like he’d ever come around again - that you believed so.

you didn’t exactly know how you met him. maybe it really was fate, like he said once. only eleven months after the incident, you were still incapable of communication. leaving your house was scary and worrisome for anything other than therapy, so you didn’t tend to visit places much often. during the time, you were still leaving at your old apartment. your friend insisting on you moving on had already convinced you of leaving the building, and that day you were finally taking the boxes out.

you met by the stairs. a box had fallen from your hands straight to his feet.

as much as you apologized, he only smiled, assuring you he was alright.

and that was it.

you met him again on your way to your therapist. it was all too similar, you thought to yourself. he happened to have a friend living in the same building as you (he was literally your next door neighbor), and you were starting to open up to people a little more. you knew his friend, as much as one knows a neighbor. the guy was nice and he always gave your roommate eyes - she genuinely didn’t mind him.

you told your therapist about it the other day. and the next day, the guy was knocking at your door.

you remembered how nice having company felt. your roommate worked all day, while you only stayed at home. unable to properly work just yet, you only worked in the mornings at a coffee shop. it was safe and easy for you most of the times, only having to wipe tables and greet costumers. you didn’t complain.

he told you he had just gone to see his friend and happened to be curious about you. his eyes were a little intense but there was something about the tone of his voice and shakiness of his smile that managed to make you feel at peace.

besides your roommate, he became someone you could trust.

things didn’t go as quickly as it would’ve normally. you had never invited him inside your house alone, but when your roommate was there, you would let him inside. he would always visit with sweets or a cup of coffee for you. 

it’s like everything repeated itself once again in some extent.

after hanging out with your roommate and him, his friend started tagging alone. the guy was sweet and funny, and in less than three weeks he managed to get your roommate to go on a date with you.

that was the first time the two of you spent alone.

you’d thought by that time you were over it. you were quick to understand there were some wounds that no matter how much you tried, would leave scars that still hurt.

but he didn’t mind waiting all the time in the world for you, and he let you know that.

looking back, you finally realized what real love truly was. he was what real love felt like.

small touches, assuring words, constant communication. silence wasn’t needed with him, and your eyes never spoke more than what words did.

you genuinely felt safe again.

gojo didn’t mean this to happen. after the yelling of your friend and the end of the friendship with his friend, gojo decided he was done with you forever.

so then, why was he involuntarily following you around the store?

he had no other intentions than to look at you for one last time. it had been a while, and he was genuinely curious about how you were doing. it was impossible to find anything about you, you had completely wiped yourself out from social media, and all your friends had blocked him too. that should’ve been enough for him to understand he wasn’t welcomed in your life anymore.

but then, why was he walking towards you? maybe for some closure, maybe to apologize, maybe only to say hi.

he couldn’t tell, but it was too late before he could make up his mind.

gojo tapped your shoulder quietly in the snacks aisle. he didn’t feel nervous, tense, or uneasy, almost as if the two of you were old friends that happened to meet again after so long, picking up the friendship where it had been left off. gojo was quick to realize that wasn’t the case, though.

“gojo!” you exclaimed, jumping at his sight.

had he always been that tall?

“it’s been a while,” he chuckled, looking back at your cart full. “you got a lot there, huh? you live closeby?”

gojo didn’t waste any time, pressing a hand against your cart, trapping you.

“no,” you’re quick to answer.

one of gojo’s eyebrows raises, and you look around, hoping someone can notice your state. 

“oh, then you like this store? it has more things than the others around the city, i guess-”

“i’m sorry, gojo, i’m busy and need to finish this as fast as i can, but it was nice seeing you again!”

gojo’s gaze stays on your figure as you run off with your cart. he knows you’re lying, but which two was a lie? he didn’t know.

gojo should’ve taken the hint.

he walks out of the store, noticing the clouds turn darker than they were before. he’s deliberately waiting for you outside, hoping he can get you to talk a little more. was he curious about you? not really. was he wishing he could get you back?

perhaps.

you step out of the store with the cart full of bags, and gojo approaches you fastly, startling you once again.

“need a ride?”

“oh, no, thank you,” you decline, pulling the bags out of the cart.

“then let me help you to your car,” he proposes, reaching out for one of your bags.

“no!” you exclaim, grabbing them faster than he could. “i-it’s fine, there’s a station right there so it’s fine.”

“oh no, are you silly? so many bags on the train, you’re in a rush and it’ll more likely rain? c’mon, i’ll drive you home.”

you decline his offer again, your mind running wild. it’s not that you didn’t want to accept his generosity, but suddenly all the fears you once thought were buried floated to the surface again. suddenly it felt like all the progress you had made the past years was being ripped out of your consciousness. 

“please, gojo, trust me, it’s fine,” you insist, grabbing onto your bags and trying to walk away. you look around, hoping someone sees the two of you, hoping someone would stop him. but no one is around, and no one but you can stop this.

but when you see gojo again, you finally understand it was never your fault.

gojo manages to get through you, and now you’re seated by his side as he mindlessly drives through the city. you texted your boyfriend the moment you got inside his car, telling him you were coming to his place and asking him to wait for you a few streets away. he instantly called you, but too nervous, you declined the call. you didn’t want gojo to know any more about your personal life, nor know you had moved away. if anything, you wanted gojo to disappear.

but could you tell him that?

“feels like the old times,” gojo mutters over the music on the radio.

like the old times?

an inexplicable feeling rises up your chest, yet you stay silent, wishing the ride was over. gojo would occasionally eye you, and everything would feel too familiar. 

only that this time the tables had turned. because you realized you hated gojo’s guts, and he realized he loved you dearly. 

“we should, hang out, again,” he mutters.

“i don’t think i can,” you speak, this time, your voice doesn’t falter, and gojo turns to face you.

“you got a boyfriend?”

“no,” you retort. “i’m busy.”

“you’ve always been busy, can’t you make some time for me again?”

you don’t answer. you knew too well, that if you say a word, you’ll explode. and as capable you thought you were of getting back to him, you could also remember clearly everything gojo had done to you. you don’t think it was worth the risk, trying to speak your heart out with someone like gojo.

he would never understand; he never wanted to. and he didn’t deserve to either.

“it’s here,” you announce, and gojo stops abruptly.

he frowns once he sees the man approaching his car, and you’re quick to jump out, telling him the bags were in the back. gojo steps out of the car too.

“hey, nice to meet you,” he says, and your boyfriend looks at you. “you’re his friend?”

“she’s my girlfriend.”

your breath hitches and you’re quick to grab his hand, distracting him from gojo’s conversation.

your boyfriend wasn’t an impulsive guy. he’s thoughtful and caring, fast to understand any situation he’s in front of.

but gojo is the complete opposite, and by experience, you know no one can go against gojo, no matter how hard they try.

“oh, that’s nice,” gojo taps the top of his car as he watches the two of you grabbing the bags. “i can help you carry some bags upstairs, if needed so.”

“it’s fine, thank you,” your boyfriend responds for you.

your boyfriend grabs your hand along the bags and walks towards the building gojo knows too well.

for your surprise, gojo doesn’t insist, and when you look back, he’s already inside the car, watching the two of you enter the building.

after that incident, you once again were incapable of leaving your apartment. and you didn’t want your boyfriend to leave his either.

gojo surely had changed, you noticed that the day you two met again. he looked taller, stronger, and unnerving. even though the two of you had been friends for many years, gojo was still unpredictable. you learnt that the last years of friendship you two shared.

“can i help you’” your boyfriend speaks.

gojo is at the other side of the door, in what was once your building, and outside what was once your apartment.

he cocked his eyebrows, incapable of hiding the smile creeping up his face.

“oh, you live together? that’s sweet,” gojo comments.

your boyfriend doesn’t respond, closing the gap between his body and the door so gojo couldn’t see indie his house, “yeah, what you want?”

“well, my birthday is coming and i thought maybe the three of us could celebrate it together. i don’t know if she told you, but we’re really good friends.”

your boyfriend nods, of course you haven’t.

“i don’t think we can, the both of us work.”

“oh, yeah? well, she always manages to make time for me, maybe i could ask her personally since you’re acting quite weird,” gojo tries again, his hand pressing against the surface of the white door.

“no, i’ll ask her and we’ll let you know.”

“fine, i’ll wait for your answer by saturday, if not, maybe i’ll come back,” gojo mutters, smirking.

your boyfriend wasn’t an aggressive guy. but, hell, he wished he could punch his face so bad.

he didn’t tell you anything about gojo’s visit nor invitation. you were already having a pretty bad time, you didn’t need more pressure put on your shoulders.

he genuinely thought he’d made the best decision - yet, he couldn’t help feel intimidated by the figure he happened to constantly meet.

gojo always told him it was a coincidence. he didn’t believe him, and fast enough, he started to understand your emotions. there was something eerie about the guy.

in no time, gojo had managed to push him against a wall. your boyfriend noticed what gojo claimed was coincidence was, indeed, his following, and too scared of him finding out you, in fact, didn’t live with him, your boyfriend started lying to you, claiming he had too much work and that he couldn’t go visit you. you facetimed and called each other often, but sadly, you felt uneasy, and your boyfriend knew too.

but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you.

“so, you made up your mind?”

your boyfriend stands at the other side of the door, startled by the tall white haired man. he’s smiling, as always, feigning a kind gesture as if the two of them were friends. 

“sorry man,” your boyfriend speaks up. is his voice shaking? “we couldn’t get a break from work.”

“oh, that’s unfortunate,” gojo clears his throat, smiling again. “then maybe you guys can pick a day and we can meet then.”

your boyfriend observes him, eyes darker despite the blue orbits. his tapping his feet against the floor, unable to read gojo, and he, simply smiles. he knows he’s made your boyfriend nervous, and suddenly, he’s reminded of you.

no wonder you’d get with a guy like that.

gojo knew he couldn’t let you, though, you couldn’t stay with a guy like him.

how could he protect you if something ever happened to you? this guy was so easy to manipulate. it didn’t take more than a faint punch and the closing door for him to lose his composure in front of gojo. wasn’t your boyfriend supposed to be strong enough, like him perhaps? what was this guy gonna do if he were to be in front a situation like this again? he can’t seem to land a single hit on gojo, instead, receiving the other end. gojo expects him to put up a fight, maybe ask him to stop, but he doesn’t.

he wasn’t the man for you. gojo was, he just had to prove it to you.

snapping a picture, gojo sighed.

“guess i’ll have to show her what she’s missing, don’t you think?”

your boyfriend can’t stop him when he walks out of the door, and neither can he watch him, his vision too red, and the iron smell stir his insides.

gojo looks through the guy’s phone. who leaves their phone without a password? he was only proving gojo his unworthiness. this guy wasn’t made for you.

all he had to do now is let you know.

you hear knocking on your door. it’s late, your roommate is out with her boyfriend and your boyfriend didn’t tell you he was coming. still, hopefully, you walked to the door, expecting him to surprise you.

what did surprise you was gojo on the other side, with flowers on his hands.

“did i surprise you?”

it’s too fast, or maybe not, you don’t know. gojo casually enters your house, the place you had so long worked to keep safe. he leaves the flowers on the table, and approaches you, wrapping his arms around your figure.

you’re not shaking nor reacting, and gojo takes in your warmth.

oh, how much he missed you.

“i missed you so much,” he whispers in your ear. “did you miss me?”

you reach out for your phone on the back of your pants, carefully bringing it in front of you to quickly deal your boyfriend’s number.

a phone starts ringing, and it doesn’t take you long to recognize the ringtone.

“oh, someone’s calling,” gojo mentions, letting you go to check your boyfriend’s phone. it’s like he was expecting you to do so, answering the call like he hadn’t seen your caller id on the screen. “yes?”

“why do you have my boyfriend’s phone?”

“we happened to meet before i came here, nothing too serious, don’t worry,” gojo pats your head. “he was being an asshole, though, i guess i just had to prove him.”

you gasp when gojo brings up the phone to your face, “w-what did you do?”

“told you, i just wanted to make sure he was enough for you. he wasn’t, though, so i had to come let you know.”

only proves we’re made for each other, don’t you think?

you shake your hand, taking a step back.

“listen, listen gojo,” you start. your voice is firm and your trying to keep your cool too. gojo has many times proven what he’s capable of, and right now, you only wanted to at least postpone whatever he planned to do. “i think you should go home, it’s like, my roommates coming with her boyfriend, i don’t think it’s fine if they see you here.”

“you think? we can find out though.”

“no, i don’t think we should, so, let’s leave it here, we can meet tomorrow, okay? we can go have lunch together and catch up like old times.”

gojo laughs, shaking his head as he looks down to his hands.

“why are you treating me like i’m crazy?” he asks, and your breath hitches. you stop and watch his movements, suddenly the atmosphere turning colder. “because i’m in love with you?”

“i’m sorry, gojo—”

“is it wrong to be in love? are you really blaming me for my feelings?”

you can’t tell if he’s being honest or putting up an act. once again, he’s managed to get inside your head. you don’t have more options and your minds clouded, unable to find a proper solution to the situation, unable to end this.

“just give me one last chance, that’s all i ask from you.”

gojo knows you too well, too much for your own safety and sometimes for his own liking.

and so you find yourself sitting at a restaurant a few streets away from your apartment, waiting for gojo to arrive. you didn’t believe you’d made an irresponsible decision - in fact, this was the smartest way to handle the situation. your boyfriend pleaded you to not come. you could understand that, he’d finally met gojo and he’d sensed it; gojo was far stronger mentally and physically than you’d suspect. it was fine. you weren’t nervous or scared, no, because, if there was something your therapist had told you, was that, as long as you set your boundaries and knew your worth, you wouldn’t fall for his tactics anymore. you didn’t come here to make friends with him again or to assure him everything was okay, you were here to let him know it was over. plus, you had decided to give yourself a day to decide what exactly you were gonna tell him.

“didn’t expect you to come in so early,” he mutters, taking a seat in front of you. “you’re fifteen minutes—”

“let’s talk,” you interrupt.

gojo can sense it, you’ve changed. when he looks at you, he can tell you’re not that deer he’d used to hunt for.

he wants to tell you the truth - the one he’s made up in his head.

“i love you, i’m in love with you.”

it hasn’t been more than five minutes since he sat down. gojo notices the lack of reaction, the indifference in your face, and suddenly, he’s feeling nervous. he’s not good with words and you know that, yet you’re not reacting the way he’d pictured, imagined, last night. you’re not telling him you’re in love with him too and that you want to try again. you’re not smiling or reaching out to hold his hand on the table, or getting up to wrap your arms around his body. you stay in your place, with eyes boring into his, waiting for him to say something else.

but he’s got nothing else to say, “gojo, i don’t love you.”

gojo doesn’t like that, you can tell by the soft tapping of his shoes under the table. the restaurant is full and you know the last thing he wants to do is make a scene. because, if he were to do so, his true colors would show.

“how are you sure about that? is it because of your boyfriend?” gojo asks, leaning closer to you. “you know he’s not the one, you know he doesn’t make you feel the way i do.”

“gojo, everything is in the past,” you sigh, tilting your head, tired. “the both of us made bad decisions, played with each other, hurt each other, but that’s in the past and it should stay there.”

“no! i don’t want us to stay in the past, i need us right now,” gojo mutters, and if you didn’t know him well, you’d almost think he was pleading. “we’re meant to be.”

“we’re not!” you exclaim, now losing your patience. “we hurt each other, can’t you remember that? i let you play with me and manipulate me, and now that you’ve realized i did nothing but try to please you you’re suddenly feeling guilty! but things don’t work like that, gojo, mistakes like that can’t be embedded that easily. you have to take responsibility of your actions.”

“i never wanted to hurt you, i wanted you to be stronger—”

“and i am now, thanks to you,” you say. “thanks to what you did to me i’ve finally understand that i deserve better.”

“how do you know i can’t make it up to you?”

“because i won’t let you, because i’ve found somebody else that’ll make it up to me, and it’s not you.”

“one chance is all i’m asking—”

“you already had your one chance, and you wasted it.”

“then another one—”

you’re sure six months ago you’d fell for that. you’d wished to give gojo another chance. after all, no one was more special to you than he was. you could say, until this day, gojo was the most special person in your life. that didn’t mean you deserved to suffer to help him make it up to you. whatever he wanted wasn’t something healthy and neither of you deserved it. but it wasn’t your job to make gojo understand that, it wasn’t your responsibility to fix gojo.

gojo knew you had changed. he knew he didn’t have the right to come back in your life, nor were you supposed to help him embed things. still, he wished he could still have you by his side.

“it’s time to move on.”

because now, when he looks up at the sky early in the morning to watch the sunrise, he knows he wasn’t made to stay by your side.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[stardustprompts]

the burning god -  r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   ptsd ,  addiction , death , murder , nsfw  , language 

‘do you think I’d ever let anything happen to you?’

‘you’re terrified. that’s why you’re fidgeting. you’re scared.’

‘soldiers are worth more than civilians, it’s just math.’

‘don’t cut off the head of the snake if you can tame it.’

‘none of this— our villages, our people, our freedom— will survive under their intended world order’

‘i’m the least terrible option you’ve got.’

‘I don’t mean to call you stupid, because I love you, but that plan is so stupid.’

‘i’m not sorry for this. you shouldn’t have gotten in my way.’

‘that wasn’t an insult. just being frank.’

‘they’re bullies. weakness is what they want to see.’

‘bad moral is a big weapon. don’t underestimate it.’

‘i’ve gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.’

‘i’m not crazy right? this is clearly a trap?’

‘how do you think history will judge me if I throw away it’s fate for one person?’

‘it felt like you’d put the universe back in place. like you were balancing the scales. didn’t it?’

‘you don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. you treat them like infected wounds and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.’

‘it’s not justice, it’s chaos.’

‘this is a revolution. it’s not a fucking tea party.’

‘cut me a fucking break. i’ve been fleeing for my life.’

‘I shouldn’t have counted on his virtue. but he didn’t count on my survival.’

‘they’re never gone. do you understand? they still come for you in your sleep. only this time they’re dream-wraiths, not real, and there’s no escape from them because they’re living in your own mind.’

‘your pain will always be mine.’

‘i’m not living my whole life like a beast on a leash.’

‘I should kill you. why can’t I kill you?’

‘you don’t behave rationally around her, you never do.’

‘’all right’ is not a term anyone would use to describe you.’

‘I used to hate myself for living, too. I didn’t think it was fair that I’d survived. that others had died in my place.’

‘it’s not fair. I should be in the ground with them.’

‘it doesn’t go away. It never will. but when it hurts, lean into it.’

‘this life you’ve chosen, you won’t get many moments like this again. but it’s the nights like this that keep you alive.’

‘give up, darling. trust me, this is easier. this is so much easier.’

‘you know, I think I’ve figured out where you get all that self - righteousness.’

‘their blood is on you. you killed them.’

‘I hate you. I wish we were all dead.’

‘do you think he loved you? do you think he ever loved you?’

‘this story will end. the way it was always meant to.’

‘I just want to sit for a second. in peace. can I do that?’

‘I don’t know, I thought maybe— maybe they’d realize that they need me.’

‘you are so bad at this. it’s cute.’

‘people are attracted to power, darling. they can’t help themselves. power seduces. exert it, make a show of it, and they’ll follow you.’

‘I killed him. and I don’t feel bad about it.’

‘stop pretending to care about ethics, it’s embarrassing.’

‘at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.’

‘fear turns into despair, despair to panic, and then panic into utter submission. it’s incredible, the power of psychological warfare.’

‘knowing what I’ve done? yes, it hurts. unlike anything you could ever imagine.’

‘they want to erase us. they want to make us better, to improve us, by turning us into a mirror of themselves.’

‘any culture or state that diverges is necessarily inferior. we are inferior, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them.’

‘people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.’

‘i’m just telling you what’s right in front of you. you know I’m right.’

‘you seem to have mistaken me for a dullard.’

‘it’s a tragedy we’re on different sides. you know that. we would have been so good united.’

‘he’s tried a million different things to break me. but he should have remembered he never figured out how.’

‘lost my mind for a bit. just starting to get it back now.’

‘you think we should just surrender. that we’d be better off under their rule.’

‘that’s the implication of your logic. and I won’t accept that. I can’t.’

‘i’m sure you said whatever you needed to to get them off your back. I don’t care about that.’

‘everything you do convinces them you should not exist.’

‘I did what I had to do to give him the only chance at peace he’d ever get.’

‘you are the worst thing to happen to this country. these people deserve better than you.’

‘you were only ever fighting to survive. I was fighting to win.’

‘we don’t need peace right now. we need blood.’

‘I don’t know what’s insane anymore. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘there is no turning back. i’ve waited too long for this.’

‘I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.’

‘there’s more, there’s something you’re not telling me, I deserve to know.’

‘let go of the man you remember. you’re never going to get him back.’

‘in times like these, you can’t let sleeping threats lie.’

‘if we ever feared him, it was because he was great, and great rulers always inspire fear in the hearts of the weak.’

‘you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget.’

‘she’s not a person anymore. she’s rage.’

‘it’s not just about the enemy. it’s about what the world looks like after.’

‘you’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. but I’m trying to protect mine.’

‘i’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here.’

‘I don’t care what else happens up there. but you come back to me.’

‘what’s this? finally developing a conscience?’

‘I know what you did. I know everything. and I don’t care. the past doesn’t matter. ____ is in danger now, and I need you.’

‘nature can’t be altered. only held at bay.’

‘don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. it’s too heavy. and you aren’t strong enough.’

‘you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.’

‘she told me I’ll never be afraid again.’

‘that’s power. and you’re not giving that up. I know you. you’re me.’

‘I know how humiliation feels. keep your secrets if you want. but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.’

‘i’m not going to survive this war.’

‘do you want me to say I’m sorry?’

‘what did I tell you? you were never meant to serve.’

‘if you try that shit, I will kill you.’

‘good luck. don’t do anything stupid.’

‘keep down. and when you get the chance, run.’

‘you never want to hurt them. but you have to. you have to put them through hell, because that’s the only way anyone else will survive.’

‘I would have spared them if I could have.’

‘I wasn’t a person to you, I was a weapon, and you needed me to work.’

‘it’ll never stop hurting.’

‘you love them like your own family, and a knife twists in your heart every time you watch one of them die.’

‘see this through to the end. that’s the least you own to the dead.’

‘I wish things had been different.’

‘I so hate when you’re right.’

‘you kill me and you accomplish nothing. your world as you know it will end.’

‘i’m not going to kill you. you don’t deserve that.’

‘why does everyone think this war is over. am I the only one with eyes?’

‘it’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.’

‘don’t call me crazy.’

‘you are being crazy. you’re acting like a fucking maniac. shut up for a moment and face the fucking facts.’

‘they can’t do this to me. I was supposed to win.’

‘we built an entire nation. we don’t have to let it collapse.’

‘what he wants is what we all want, which is to stop killing our own people.’

‘we’re about to have the world we fought for. can’t you see it? it’s so close, it’s just over the horizon.’

‘you can come back. I’ll bring you back. we’re in this together.’

‘we’re trying to broker a peace here. let’s not start off with death threats, shall we?’

‘i’m just trying to make this less painful for everyone involved.’

‘you can’t do this for me. I won’t let you.’

‘it’s not for you. it’s not a favor. it’s the cruelest thing I could do.’

[tenswrld]

told you so

yangyang x reader, fluff

summary: you like yangyang and ten tries to convince you that he likes you back.

a/n: soooo sorry that it’s been so long LOLLL but hopefully i’ll get back into writing now that it’s summer ^^

“give me one reason why i should believe you.”

ten frowned at you. “what? you don’t trust me?”

“of course i trust you, but how do you know for sure? i don’t want to risk it.” you slapped ten gently on the shoulder when he continued to frown at you. “don’t look at me like that, it’s not going to help your case.”

ten erased the frown from his face and rolled his eyes, flipping onto his back with a loud groan. “my two babies like each other and are too stupid to realize it. you guys drive me nuts.”

you laughed and threw a pillow at him. “shut up. and we’re not your babies. i’m not your cat, weirdo.”

***

both you and yangyang were busy college students, but even then you two always made time for each other. whether that was rushed lunches in the quad, or childhood movies at each others dorms at 2 am. you considered him your closest friend, and he considered you his own. you basically already acted like a couple, the only thing that was missing was the label (and kisses, of course). 

ten wasn’t sure if the two of you were scared, oblivious, or stupid, so he settled with assuming that you were all three. even mark could see that you two liked each other, and he was slow to pick up on things. 

when ten decided that convincing you wasn’t going to work, he turned his attention back to yangyang. yangyang held a bit more confidence than you did, but ten knew it would diminish the moment he found out there was the slightest chance that you liked him back.

it made ten want to slam his head into a wall.

“yangyang, why would i lie to you? do you think i want to see you humiliate yourself?” ten sighed, clearly very frustrated.

yangyang shrugged. “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised.” at this, ten rolled his eyes. “but seriously there’s, like, no way y/n likes me back. she probably likes mark, or something, and you’re trying to fool me.”

ten took hold of yangyang’s shoulders and stared him dead in the eyes. “if i’m wrong about this i’ll buy you food for a week.”

yangyang drew back from ten and raised a brow, saying, “either you’re serious or way too into a prank, dude.”

ten hung his head in exhaustion, sighing. “oh my god, i can’t stand this anymore. forget my deal, you’re stupid.”

yangyang pouted as ten walked away, slightly offended by his comment. “rude,” he grumbled under his breath.

***

yangyang bounced his knee up and down, his gaze continuously flickering back and forth between the clock on the wall and his paper. the two of you had planned to have lunch together since you hadn’t been able to hangout for the past few days, and yangyang was insistent on being on time. he wasn’t sure why, but his hands seemed to be sweatier than usual and his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the thought of seeing you again.

he shook his head as if to get himself to stop thinking about you, mumbling to himself, “god, what is wrong with me?”

he nearly jumped out of his skin when a mutual friend of his, jaemin, tapped on his shoulder. jaemin stared at him in amusement and took a small step back. “my bad, didn’t mean to scare you. you okay?”

yangyang chuckled awkwardly and said, “yeah, sorry, i just spaced out. what’s up?”

jaemin leaned on the desk in front of yangyang casually. “you’re friends with y/n, right?”

yangyang tensed at his question, fearing where this conversation was going. “uh, yeah, why?”

“do you think you could get me her number?”

yangyang blinked at him before quickly clearing his throat, realizing he had been staring like an idiot. “...can’t you, like, get it from her yourself?”

the corners of jaemin’s lips curled up into a small smile. he shrugged, saying, “i could, but asking you saves me the trouble.”

yangyang sat there stumbling over his own words before directing his attention to his classmates leaving the classroom. using this as his chance to escape, yangyang stood abruptly.

“i’ll get back to you on that...eventually. i got to go, so...bye!” yangyang said to jaemin, flashing him a fake smile before dashing out of the room.

yangyang couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the thought of jaemin having a crush on you, but he tried his best to convince himself that wasn’t the case. whether it was because he was nervous or because he didn’t want to be late, yangyang picked up his pace and sent you a text telling you that he was on his way.

you sat patiently on the grass under a tree that you and yangyang had unofficially called your “spot”, jumping when yangyang fell into the spot next to you. he was panting slightly, but still had a bright smile on his face.

“did you run? why are you out of breath?” you asked while laughing at how he tried fixing his hair.

“didn’t want to keep you waiting, i guess,” yangyang huffed out. your cheeks warmed up at the comment, making you look down in embarrassment. to distract yangyang from seeing your flushed expression, you turned to grab the food from your bag. 

just like any other time that you two would have lunch together, you cracked jokes and took stupid pictures, enjoying each other’s company for as long as you could. moments like these made you forget that you and yangyang were just friends, which meant that the reality check at the end of the day hurt a lot more.

“hey, do you know jaemin?” yangyang asked suddenly.

“na jaemin?” you nodded at yangyang and said, “yeah, he might be in a class or two of mine. why?”

“just curious. what do you think of him? is he, like, cool or anything?” yangyang asked nervously. he turned away and mentally slapped himself. you sound so stupid right now.

to his relief, you replied, “i don’t know him very well, so i wouldn’t know. he seems quiet.”

yangyang hummed in reply. you chuckled and nudged his shoulder. “what? you got a crush on him?”

yangyang rolled his eyes playfully and scoffed. “oh, shut up.”

you laughed before checking your phone and sighing. “shit, i gotta get going. sorry to cut it short, yang.”

yangyang waved you off and stood up, offering you a hand to pull you up which you gratefully took. “no worries, i’m glad we got to do this today.” he almost melted when you shot him a smile.

“me too. see you later, okay?” you waved him goodbye as you walked away.

yangyang sighed and shook his head as soon as you left, the thought of you and jaemin refusing to leave his mind. he grumbled to himself, “grow a pair and confess, yangyang, come on.”

***

“well, now i’m sure he doesn’t like me, ten,” you said into your phone as you laid on your bed, facing your ceiling.

“what? why?” ten’s voice rang throughout your small dorm room.

“he kept asking me about na jaemin, i think he’s trying to set me up with him, or something.” you frowned at the thought.

“no! he is definitely not trying to do that.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “how would you know?”

“because i told jaemin to ask him for your number. i thought that yangyang would stop being a pussy and confess but i can tell that didn’t go as planned,” ten said. you could almost hear his sheepish smile.

had ten been here, you would’ve strangled him. “why are you so invested in my love life?”

“y/n, without me you don’t have a love life. be grateful that i’m even trying to help you out here.”

you couldn’t help but laugh.  “well you’re not doing a very good job.”

“and you are? excuse me, but you’re just as much of a pussy as yang,” ten laughed through the phone. “quit pissing me off and tell him you like him already before he comes crying to me about how he thinks you and jaemin are going to start dating. i gotta go, louis turned on my stove and might burn down the place.”

you laughed lightly. “alright, talk you later. and keep your nose out of my business!”

after you hung up you sat on your bed and stared blankly at the wall of your dorm. typically you tried not to listen to ten as it only ever got you in trouble, but you decided that maybe this time he was right. if he was going through all this trouble, he couldn’t have been lying, right?

right?

***

much to ten’s dismay, he seems to have been right about yangyang and his whining.

“no, like, you don’t understand. he totally likes her. and he’s na jaemin. there’s like no way she wouldn’t like him back! i would have a crush on him too, bro.” ten shook his head at the way yangyang sat glumly on his bed, combing his bangs over his eyes.

“do you ever listen to what i tell you? i have been telling you for several weeks that she likes you. you and your idiotic self,” ten said while shoving his shoulder to get his attention. “and if you don’t listen to me this time, i will make sure that her and jaemin start dating just so that i can see you writhe in pain.”

“that’s so low, dude,” yangyang mumbled into his pillow which he had shoved his face into.

“low like your game with girls. now go get her flowers and confess!”

***

“she liked tulips right? come on yangyang, you should know this,” yangyang mumbled to himself. in his hands was a bouquet of followers which he has just bought you as well as a bag full of a few of your favorite things.

he was tripping over himself as he walked over to your dorm, his palms sweaty and his throat dry from anxiety. before he could open the door to your dorm complex, he stopped and stood at the base of the stairs.

“does she even like tulips? should i go back? oh my god, can i shut up and go?” yangyang argued with himself.

before he even had the chance to turn around and bail, your voice had called out to him, making him freeze.

“yangyang? what are you doing here?” you asked.

he turned around to see you with a large stuffed animal in your arms and a small bag that was similar to the one he was holding.

“y/n! oh my god!” yangyang wasn’t sure of what to say or do but he could see your gaze flickering from the flowers in his hands back to his nervous gaze. he saw the corner of your lips curl up into a small smile and felt his worries slowly ease away.

“i’m guessing ten talked to you too?” you chuckled, making your way towards him.

yangyang laughed nervously. “um, yes, quite aggressively too.” he held the tulips in his hands out to you. “i got these for you. you do like tulips, right?”

you smiled and nodded. “of course i do. you know me so well,” you teased. you handed over the stuffed animal to which yangyang gladly took into his arms. “i remember you talking about how badly you wanted this one from the store so i went and bought it for you.”

“thank you, i love it.”

the two of you looked at it each other for a moment before breaking out into bright smiles that you seemed to be unable to control. yangyang hesitantly took your hand into his own before brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“i really like you,” he said softly.

“i know,” you laughed when he frowned and rolled his eyes. placing a kiss on his cheek you said, “i really like you too.”

“is it okay if i kiss you?” yangyang mumbled. you nodded excitedly, but before you could share your first kiss, yangyang’s phone buzzed.

0/10

have you confessed or not i have jaemin with me right now

yangyang scoffed at the text making you furrow your brows in confusion. “who is it?”

“just ten. come here, i need to send him a picture of us.”

“for...what?”

“for proof!”

“proof? proof for wh-“

“i’ll explain later, just come here.” yangyang wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your cheek, catching you by surprise. “and....sent! now back to that kiss...”

you shoved him at the sight of him wiggling his eyebrows making him laugh. “just shut up already.”

“if you say so,” yangyang sang.

you both smiled into the kiss, knowing that the both of you had been waiting for this moment forever, giggling when you finally pulled away. yangyang caressed your cheek gently before pulling out his phone to check ten’s reply.

0/10

told you so!!!!!

[quietlyimplode]

For here what is, what is must be.

Whumptober2021 (Masterlist) (Chapter 5)

Day 6 - Bruises

———-

(Gif not mine- warnings for black widow movie spoilers, Red Room and aftermath of torture)

When they leave, Yelena crawls to where Natasha is clearly unconscious as she drags her onto her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

If there ever was a time to cry, now would be it, but she swallows it down and bites her lip.

She has regrets.

She looks over her sisters body, and gently pulls up her top, she has to suck in a breath at the depth of bruising now showing.

There’s no way she doesn’t have broken ribs. She has matching burn marks and Yelena can feels hers hot and raw on her legs, her arms and torso.

Gently brushing Natasha’s hair off her face, she waits.

.

A single half filled water bottle is thrown in the cell, close enough for Yelena to grab.

She takes a sip before trying to rouse Natasha. There’s no words spoken as Natasha wakes up, sees Yelena, takes stock of her body.

It’s something Yelena has taught herself to do, something all the Widows know to do, to analyse themselves and just how much more they can take.

Not that it matters, they’ll always push past breaking, and when they’ve broken, there will always be more pain.

She watches as Natasha can’t mask or erase the hurt that she so clearly feels, bravado gone.

She pushes against Yelena and sits up cautiously and slowly.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asks, her voice quiet and hoarse.

It’s not a question that Yelena has heard in a very long time and her breath catches in her throat. She should not be this emotional.

“It’s ok. I’m ok.” Natasha reassures her seeing her face change. She always knows what to say, even after all these years.

Yelena offers her the water and they share what’s left, without saying a word.

.

The silence is comfortable, to an extent. Neither wants to say what’s on their minds, because it would bring heartbreak or anger, Yelena isn’t really sure what she would prefer.

She can hear Natasha’s audible breathing and the frequent shift in her position tells her that no position is comfortable.

.

Time passes and it seems that they’re left to themselves.

Yelena wants to say… so many things, but it seems Natasha can’t stay conscious. She’s not sure if it’s a good or bad thing, and perhaps functions more as an escape from the pain.

Her arm still bleeds sluggishly where the gunshot grazed her, just near the cauterized burn.

Yelena feels hers swell and flare, and decides to help. Ripping the lower part of her singlet, she scoots closer to Natasha who looks at her with trusting eyes she doesn’t deserve.

“Here.” She blows gently on the wound, ignoring the wince that accompanies it, and gently wraps the frayed material around it.

It perhaps does more as a tourniquet than anything else but it’s something.

“Thanks,” Natasha murmurs quietly.

They lapse again into quietness, Yelena moving just close enough to be touching, feeling the heat radiating off her body.

It’s comforting in the cool room.

.

“Do you remember the shipping container,” Natasha starts, breaking the silence, “when we were so hungry and that everyone started talking about their favourite food?”

Yelena almost scoffs, like she could ever forget.

“And you said that yours were Razzles and no one knew what it was?”

Natasha stops.

“Is it still your favourite?” She asks, voice cracking.

Yelena shakes her head.

“You said yours was a chocolate bar… right? I can’t remember..” She can’t remember a lot of things.

Natasha is nodding.

“Snickers.”

Yelena half laughs at the stupidity of having snickers as your favourite chocolate bar.

“Why would you choose that?”

Natasha shrugs and regrets the action.

“Tell me something about yourself now?” she asks.

Yelena doesn’t know what to say.

“I still can’t braid my own hair.” She decides on.

Natasha’s eyes are closed as she smiles in Yelena’s direction.

“I’ll teach you.”

But it’s an empty promise.

.

There was a moment, that Yelena gave up.

It was an inconsequential moment, she was walking down the corridor of the red room, lined up as usual, made to march. And. She gave up.

Natasha wasn’t coming to save her.

Her parents, whoever they once were, left her.

She had dropped; grief overcoming her at the despair that this was her life.

She didn’t care. They could do with her what they wanted.

And they did.

They reprogrammed her with drugs and she became numb to the grief. She forgot that she had deep feelings, that she loved her sister, her mother and father.

Whatever chemical concoction they gave her, made her compliant and unfeeling.

Being with Natasha, being here, made her feel that the feelings were breaking through.

It was uncomfortable and she longed to make it stop. She didn’t want to be feeling these feelings.. Or anything really.

It’s not what she was made for.

.

Yelena wakes from her uneasy sleep.

She doesn’t want to think and they’ve clearly left them alone to see what other information they divulge.

She looks to the blinking light in the corner, and sighs.

She stands, the jangle of the chains making Natasha alert and on edge.

Her words are slurring as she asks Yelena if she’s ok.

“Go back to sleep.” Yelena encourages.

Her movement is pointless but she feels better standing in front of Natasha, blocking her from their view.

She shouldn’t be but she’s worried about Natasha’s breathing. It sounds wheezing and strained.

This needs to stop.

“I’ll tell you.” She says to the camera.

.

[sporktato]

Jaster Mereel - Dad Extraordinaire

Phoenix!Mando!Obi-Wan drabble

Montross has an idea, a surefire way to ensure the loyalty of the clans and restore Mandalore to its former glory. Jaster wasn’t so sure, but his friend was obsessed, spending days and nights in the library or across the galaxy talking to the strangest people in search of a phoenix.

Phoenixes, everyone knows, are a thing of myth, no more real than space grazers, but Montross was insistent, incessant. The power starbirds hold, the awe and might, if they were more than children’s tales and Jaster was able to control one, or better yet killed the supposed immortal, he would be revered throughout Mandalore and possibly the wider galaxy. But to Jaster, this was no more than Montross’ pet project. Jaster had clans to keep from killing each other, New Mandalorian passiveness to work around, two children to raise, and his own fool’s dream to revive Mandalore to a living planet.

Until one day, when Montross comes to him with a look in his eyes Jaster knows well; the look of imminent success. So Jaster loaded up his crew and children, hardly children anymore, and followed Montross’ directions to a planet no one had ever heard of. It was a desolate place, the only life the native plants and animals. Any signs of sentients had been long erased my time. Nonetheless, it was beautiful and untamed, and the trek through canyons of sheer escarpments was unlike anything Jaster had experienced.

After days, Montross found what he was looking for - a faded, almost invisible petroglyph of a starbird, stretching a dozen feet over Jaster’s head and just as many sideways, with the bird’s beautiful tail wrapped back on itself to keep the carving roughly square. Jaster has no expectations. They are Mandalorians, not jetii or witches, even if there was a legendary beast trapped in the carving (which was unlikely), how were they, how was Montross, to free it? Still, Jaster let his friend work while Jango and Arla put him through aerial drills under the pretense of preparing him for fighting the phoenix, much to the other warriors’ amusement.

Two nights later, something in the air shifts. A sudden roaring of their campfire feet upwards and the hairs on the back of Jaster’s neck stand on end. On either side of him his children are quick to grab their helmets and weapons. The entire camp is on their feet in seconds, armed and sprinting to Montross, expecting anything. Jaster’s friend is on his feet in front of the petroglyph, staring in awe as the carving glows red. Jaster gets the ghost of the feeling of ash stuck in his throat. The air is preternaturally hot. The red glowing increases, the starbird now blatantly visible, too visible, and in the dead of the night Jaster shades his eyes with one hand, the other tightening around the beskar spear he’s chosen for the kill. There’s a sound of thunder, sharp and booming around them as the glow peaks and something emerges from the carving six feet above Jaster’s head.

It is not a phoenix.

It is a small body, falling limply to the ground over eleven feet below. Jaster acts without thinking, dropping the spear and racing to catch the being before they hit the unforgiving ground. His family follows him, Montross and his children pushing past the other warriors to crowd close as Jaster examines what exactly he just caught. It’s a human, with long red hair and pale skin and somehow still alive, eyes rolling under closed lids but not yet waking. It takes effort for Jaster to look away from the child, because they are a child, younger than Jango by the looks of it, and look at Montross for explanation.

His friend looks as surprised as Jaster feels. Swallowing, Montross says, “It’s a trick. That’s - that’s the phoenix.”

“That’s a child.” Jango cuts in.

“No.” Montross replies, seemingly more sure of himself, glaring at Jango. “No, I read stories from the Sephi. They say starbirds can change appearance. That’s your creature, Mereel. Kill it.”

Jaster looks at the child in his arms, whose face is starting to twitch, a sure sign of waking soon. Mandalorians are trained to recognize danger, even in the most unlikely of people. There is a good chance the child is theoretically dangerous, but then so are Mandalorians. Many would consider Jaster’s dear children lethal. “I will not.” He states. Not until they wake and give Jaster a reason to attack.

Montross growls and pulls out his blaster. In a heartbeat Jaster slides the child into Arla’s open arms and stands to defend his new ad’ika. Montross, not expecting such blatant resistance, barely defends himself as Jaster smacks the blaster away and knocks him on his ass. Other Mandos jump in, pulling Montross up and away as the man yells about the work he’s done and how Jaster needs to kill the child.

Turning back to his children, Jaster is shocked to lock eyes with the child, awake and apparently witness to Montross’ sudden actions. Their eyes are unnaturally silver, staring into Jaster’s very soul, and this is not a human evaluating him. His daughter is holding something very dangerous. Jaster kneels, not breaking eye contact. The child attempts to escape Arla’s protective hold and sit up but they are too weak. They bare their teeth at Jaster with a growling hissing noise and Jaster catches sight of sharp, pointed incisors. 

“Easy.” Jaster rumbles. He remembers Jango in the corn field, and Arla in the Death Watch camp. He knows dangerous, scared, lonely children. “You’re okay ad’ika. I’m Jaster, this is Jango and Arla.” He gestures to his children in turn. “We won’t hurt you, little one.” Jaster has no idea if this phoenix child understands him, he can only hope something translates in his tone and body language. They don’t seem eager to attack or even escape, they’re just quietly observing everything, shaking in Arla’s arms out of fear or cold or the fact they just got pulled out of a wall.

It takes time, but the phoenix child eventually lets Jaster touch them, and then bundle them up and take them onto Jaster’s ship. They smell like smoke, and greedily curl up with every blanket Jaster gives them, and stare at them all with wary, all seeing, unnatural eyes. They do not talk, or scream, or cry, or ask questions. They are, to put it lightly, strange. The hairs on Jaster’s neck take days to stop standing on edge every time he is near them. But he loves this child already.

Eventually, they speak. They - he - speaks of his family, and he is alone now, and the wall was to protect him but he wishes he was with his family. His name is unpronounceable, but the closest Jango can get is ‘Obi-Wan’, and that they can all pronounce. Obi-Wan does not ask questions, but listens raptly as Jaster tells him everything he can think of about Mandalore and galactic history in the last fifty, one hundred, three hundred years, because Jaster has no idea how long his child was in that wall. Jaster has no idea how old his child is.

But Obi-Wan takes to Mandalore well, and takes to Jango’s friends well enough, even if he is quiet and clearly not quite natural. Jaster forgets his youngest is a phoenix more often than not. (Until Korda Six and Vizla attempts a slaughter and Obi-Wan burns Montross and a dozen others to a crisp with a flick of his hand. Until Vizla runs Obi-Wan through with a beskad and after the fight is over and Vizla is dead, Jaster holds his youngest’s corpse for hours in mourning until Obi-Wan twitches under him, coughing up blood and smiling and very much alive despite not being a moment before.)

Montross had an idea for Jaster to kill a phoenix. Instead, Jaster adopts another child, and Obi-Wan has a second chance.

[starxscream]

Morning Off

“   Forced to take the morning off, Swatch realizes what exactly they have been missing. “

SwatchKaard fic!

Oh buddy we got another bc I have problems and it’s them. (Also check it out on ao3 if it’s easier for y’all to read there!)

It was hard to tell when it was morning or evening in the dark world, but time flowed all the same.  Just today, it happened to be early morning, the sound of the rushing fountain in the middle of Ralsei’s kingdom filtering through the windows as if to say ‘it’s time to wake up’.  Other than that, however, there was nothing but a blissful silence, Castle Town still in a state of slumber while the Darkeners continue to rest while few others begin to slowly wake up.

Swatch was one of the latter, always an early riser, even if today they did not have to go into work until later- forcibly given the morning off due to the swatchlings thinking that they ‘worked too much’.  It would have been the whole day, but Swatch was not having that, needing to make sure that the cafe was being run in perfect order.

The bird sighs sleepily, a part of them torn between trying to doze or shaking off their tiredness and getting up anyways.  Eyes barely cracked open, they slowly take in their surroundings, waking up just slightly.  They become aware of someone’s back pressed against their chest.  Arms still wrapped tightly around the other person, Swatch doesn’t make any sudden movement yet, instead dipping their beak down slightly to be able to bury their face in the mass of hair beside them. They could make out quiet snores from the other person, Swatch’s feathered fingers unconsciously stroking the patches of skin where they held him.

As much as Swatch complained about having the morning off, this was…nice.  The knowing that they didn’t have to get up and leave so quickly, just being able to lay here and take in the slow morning.  They let their eyes slowly flutter shut again, silently making their decision on what to do this morning.

Unbeknownst to Swatch, however, their oh-so-wonderful partner had started to stir, his internal clock telling him it was time to wake up.  Unfortunately he did not want to wake up.  A silent groan works past his lips, mouth curved into a frown as he suddenly rolls over in Swatch's arms and pulls himself even closer to the bird, resting his head on his chest.

The sudden movement rouses Swatch from their state of dozing, cracking open a singular eye to gaze down at the other, lifting their beak only slightly while he shifts his position around.  Once settled, Swatch lowers their head back down to rest on top of their partner’s a soft coo escaping their beak.

“Good morning beloved.” Swatch whispers quietly, only earning a tired grunt from the other, pushing himself further into Swatch- at least, attempting to.  He hung tightly to Swatch, wrapped around them like a coiled rod.  It earns a chuckle from Swatch, moving a hand to pet their partner’s messy hair.

“Rouxls…” Swatch speaks again, trying to get their partner’s attention.  Hoping to catch him off guard and get him to respond, at least just for a second, a guilty pleasure.

There’s another groan, Rouxls still nuzzling Swatch’s chest, before a huff, rolling his head slightly back to sleepily peer up at Swatch’s face.  He sits there for a minute, slowly blinking, trying to shake off his own sleep but not wanting to.

“What does- doeseth…thou…” Rouxls fumbles over his words, trying to speak with his usual accent but too sleepy to properly think it out.  There’s a frustrated sigh, Rouxls grumbling quietly before speaking again, “…Good morning.” The blue man lowers his head to bury it back into Swatch’s chest after that, hoping for just a moment’s more peace, expecting Swatch to have to get up and leave soon and Rouxls not wanting him to- as it was every morning.  The amount of times Rouxls complained and tried to get Swatch to stay home…

A smile spreads across Swatch’s beak as Rouxls speaks, catching the poor attempt and then lack of the usual arrogant accent, a pleased chitter vibrating from his throat, “Hm…” Their gaze lingers on Rouxls for a moment, “I now see why you are so desperate to keep me around in the morning.”  Casually poking at Rouxls as they usually did, waiting for the moment Rouxls remembers what      this    morning was.

Rouxls mumbles something incoherent, still refusing to pry himself away from the bird.  Still too sleepy to question why Swatch hadn't tried to get up for work yet? The thoughts immediately erased by the tired selfishness of wanting to keep Swatch here.  To actually stay for even just a morning…

Wait…

Puzzle pieces begin to fall into place, Rouxls’ mind finally jump-starting itself into working. Swatch is still here… It takes Rouxls a moment to realize, still enjoying how warm and comfortable it was in Swatch’s arms, before it suddenly hits and Rouxls’ eyes snap open.  He cranes his head back to look up at the bird, blinking slowly.

“Thou art still hereth?” It’s phrased as a question, sleep still lingering on Rouxls’ voice- having not entirely figured it out yet, but enough to realize the important thing.

“Yes my love, I am still here.  Did you forget what day it was?” Swatch leans down to give a kiss to the top of Rouxls’ head, “I will be here all morning.”

It takes Rouxls a moment for Swatch’s words to register and when they do his face breaks into a large smile, arms squeezing Swatch tighter.  “Of courseth I did not forgete!” Rouxls boasts, obviously lying, “I am...happyeth that thou is hereth.” His voice gets quieter the move he speaks, flush rising to his cheeks at the admittance.

Swatch’s own smile gets wider, heart giving a pang in their chest at Rouxls’ admittance- truly Rouxls’ expressions were their guilty pleasure.  “If it makes you so happy, perhaps I can entertain the idea of doing this more often.”  They watch as Rouxls seems to light up at that, his own sleepiness fading at the prospect.

“As thou should! Thine paramour shouldeth spend thy morn with their belovedeth! It is as thy haveth always toldeth thou.”  A smug tone invites itself into Rouxls’ words, Swatch unable to keep themselves from rolling their eyes at it.  Not that the smile ever left their face however.

Rouxls’ hands move upwards, threading into the fluffy feathery hair on Swatch’s head, “I enjoyeth waking upeth and seeing thou faceth, even if thou is stilleth thy most frustratingeth and annoyinge worm-avian.”  He hums, no ill-intent behind his words, feeling just a little bit more confident this morning, “Howevere that meanseth, that thou art here, I can noweth do this…” Rouxls pulls himself up further, giving Swatch a soft kiss to their beak.

“Mmm...if I knew I would be getting such special attention from you, I would have taken a morning off ages ago…” Swatch chuckles, opting to pepper Rouxls in more kisses, not satisfied with just the one, “So…” Swatch speaks between kisses, “What is it that you commonfolk do during the morning if not preparing for work?”

Rouxls scoffs at that, yet still giggling in between each kiss, “Commonfolk? Thou must surelyest be mistakene! I am enjoyingeth my time, somethinge thateth thou shouldeth take into considerationeth more ofteneth.” His voice slowly turns to a mumble, a half-hearted attempt to keep up the banter, “Thou ist more commonfolk than thy…”

“Says the ‘butler supremeth’ who has no one to buttle for…” Swatch murmurs in response, fingers tangling in Rouxls hair.  Still leaving kisses on Rouxls’ lips, casually and so...normal. Swatch felt as if all of their worries were just...gone, like work was nothing more than an idle thought in the background.  Why were they so adamant about not taking time off...

The two continue to cuddle and kiss during their idle banter, neither making any effort to move or get up.  Instead just enjoying the time between them that was not usually shared.  So distracted with each other, neither of them noticed the door to their room creaking open with a stifled giggle of someone (poorly) trying to sneak in.

It wasn’t until a small round flash of blue and white flew onto the bed loudly announcing, “SURPRISE LANCERBALL ATTACK!” And crashing into them both that they realized Lancer had snuck into their room.  The little round prince slams into them, knocking them with a loud oomph, forcing the two to separate from one another.

“LANCER?” Rouxls loudly gasps in surprise, skipping his usual nicknames due to the shock of the sudden appearance.  Swatch blinks in confusion, stunned silent for a moment, just taking it in and letting Rouxls handle it for now while he registered the situation.

Lancer laughs loudly, plopping down into the bed in the space between Rouxls and Swatch, his music player in hand.  “You should’ve seen your FACES…LOL!” He says the term letter by letter aloud, “Mom Dad showed me how to make MIXTAPES and I made a really really good one! So as my other dads, you have to listen!”  His tongue sticks from his mouth, wiggling the earbuds coiled and tangled around him and holding the ends up for Rouxls and Swatch to take.

Rouxls sighs dramatically, “Thine dearest water-beetle, how manyeth times haveth I told thee to knocketh!  Does thou needest to learneth thou manners as parteth thou royaleth duties...” He pulls himself up, back resting on the headboard, Swatch mirroring the motions.  Lancer’s grin seems to falter for a moment as he’s being reprimanded, before Rouxls continues speaking, “However! I shalt entertaine thee request to listeneth to thou ‘mixtape’ that shalt certainly be nothinge moreth than rackety driveleth.”  There was no real harshness in Rouxls’ words, and Lancer lit up again, rolling over and clambering into Rouxls’ lap, the man instinctively wrapping an arm around the prince.  Swatch opts to accept the earbud, moving closer and sliding their free arm behind Rouxls to pull the two closer into them.   Rouxls accepts the other earbud, the two sticking them into their respective ears.

“I am sure it will sound lovely.” Swatch coos, counterbalancing Rouxls dramatic demeanor with their calmness, “Thank you for sharing Lancer.” Always so polite.

Lancer laughs loudly again, “Of course it will! Now hurry it up, I wanna go show Ralsei!” Kicking his legs up and down in excitement, snuggling closer to Rouxls as if he wasn’t planning on leaving.  Rouxls rolls his eyes, still with a hint of a grin on his face, giving a glance towards Swatch who only offers a shrug and a smile.

“Thou needeth to press play.”

“Oh…right.  Thanks for the reminder, vice father!”

Lancer slams the play button…unleashing the monstrosity of his fully splat sfx “mixtape” upon Rouxls and Swatch.  Swatch was caught off guard, hand flying to his beak to keep from laughing, shoulders quietly bouncing at the absurdity of it.  Rouxls…saw it coming, wearing a tired pleasant smile as he endured listening to it- at least this was different than just the usual sounds Lancer constantly played.

Leaning over, Rouxls rests his head on Swatch’s shoulder, watching Lancer fiddle with his music player with one hand and grabbing Rouxls’ and bouncing it around with the other.

Swatch peers over at Rouxls, a contented smile on their face as they lower their hand, resting their own head on top of Rouxls’ while the blue man appeases Lancer- the two keeping with their usual banter as the mixtape finished.  Swatch remains silent, simply enjoying the moment with them both, maybe they would thank the swatchlings for giving them the morning off.

Maybe.  They wouldn’t want them to get too cocky.

But…perhaps they will take a full day off sometime in the future, if this is what they were missing when they were always at work… Mmm, maybe not a full day.  But another morning for sure.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 3

This fic assumes Mishima isn't a confidant, the reader is the Moon arcana instead, keep this in mind.

word count: 6.3k words, SFW

- Admin Myah

Over the next few weeks spent with Akira, or… Joker, as he seemed to be called when the situation demanded, you learned that the world was much more complicated than you ever could’ve dreamed. Sure, you praised yourself for being a little less of a sheep than the idle-brained teenagers of your everyday life who thought of nothing but gossip, status and appearances, but now you felt insignificant, like you’d been asleep all this time until Akira, Ryuji and Ann had placed six symbolic hands upon you, and shaken you to life. Layers upon layers, he explained the subconscious world that lay beneath, which ached to be revealed, only to those who’d open their eyes.

＊

It’d been a rush, your first time in the Metaverse. You’d insisted to Akira, though he protested, that you wanted to see what all of this near-unbelievable nonsense he was explaining was all about. He’d never taken non-Phantom-Thief confidants into the Metaverse, and he was hesitant, silent for a long while before deciding that your help was worth the risk. After all, he’d already told you everything, and they had no way to erase memories… yet.

You remember Akira taking your hand, the skin on skin contact. Up on the school’s rooftop with Ryuji and Ann flanking you, Akira had told you it was a precaution, to make absolutely sure that you transferred into the Metaverse with them and landed in the same place. You had to be touching one of them, for your safety, and he’d eagerly volunteered. With the cat in his bag seeming to smile at you over his shoulder (an occurrence which made you feel like you were going looney already) he tapped an app icon on his phone, some scary red little square, and with that, your body lifted, began to float, or so it seemed. Red completely consumed your vision, red and black ink like those blobs you’d seen the Phantom Thieves appear from when this all began. You gasped, stumbling back a step as if you could escape the all-encompassing wave, and Akira, sensing your trepidation, squeezed your hand slightly.

The rooftop faded, and you felt like a character from a videogame fast-traveling to their destination. Almost as fast as it appeared, the trippy red and black sludge subsided, and before you sat a dark, dreary scenery. A castle, one that obviously belonged to a malevolent ruler sat amongst a purple sky and the smell of despair.

“What the…” your mouth hung agape for a second, taking in your surroundings before letting your eyes trail down to where your hand met Akira’s. Assuming you no longer needed it, you shook him off gently, not even sparing a glance his way, and his eyebrows creased just the smallest amount, not that you noticed. You were too focused on the giant cat before you, knee-height, with a round, bulbous head. “Is… are you-?!”

“Much more handsome and dashing in this form, wouldn’t you say?” Morgana - now confirmed - gave you a sly look as you leaned down to his height to run your hand along the fur on his head.

“Wow… so cute!” You cooed.

“Hey! Stop it! Stop it! I am a warrior and to be taken seriously!” he whined, shooing away your hands, his fur on end.

“Ha!” a sharp laugh rang out behind you, and you turned to see that Morgana wasn’t the only one who’d made a drastic change. Ryuji was now clad in some kind of leather pirate’s uniform, his demeanor far more fearsome and a skull mask across his face. Ann donned a skin-tight body suit and cat mask, and Akira wore a lavish long coat, red gloves, and a masquerade mask. He looked like a magician from some fairytale, or perhaps the leader of some band of Robin-Hood-inspired band of vigilantes… although you supposed that was kind of what he was now… either way, he would make amazing source material for your main protagonist. Such swagger, a commanding presence… he didn’t seem to exactly be the same Akira you’d met earlier.

＊

The trip to the Metaverse was almost completely uneventful… almost. Just once, when you’d begged Akira to press forward and show you the inside of the castle, something called a “shadow” attacked, and you got to see the band of thieves in action. It was shocking, leaving chills running down your spine. Here were your classmates, people your age with ghost-like spirits materializing at their backs, flipping through the castle’s corridors, shooting guns and slingshots and magic at terrifying beasts. It was all so fast-paced, so stunning, that your body locked up witnessing the battle. A shadow spotted you in the background, defenseless and clearly not part of the Phantom Thief entourage, and taking the petty opportunity only a sore-loser on the ropes would take, struck out against you. You shrieked, your hands uselessly coming up to defend your face as if it would help. Akira’s eyes widened, his reflexes so much faster in this realm, and turned on his heel, diving in front of you to deflect the blast of frosty energy swirling toward you. It bounced off of the side of his large steel dagger and ricoheted back at the shadow. After assessing the situation and asking if you were okay, Akira decided it was time to return you back to the real world. It was too dangerous for someone without a persona to wander here. The thieves would return later, once you were safe at home.

＊

Anyway, now you believed him, you knew everything he was saying, about Kamoshida and his fucked up mind, about confidants, personas and metacognition was real and very much a serious matter. Now all that was left was to decide just how you could help them, what kind of deal you could strike with the clever leader of the Phantom Thieves. Of course, he didn’t expect you to get something and give nothing.

It was decided that you’d offer your knowledge as a writer to help with negotiation and charming shadows in the Metaverse. You’d turn those golden lines you wrote on the pages into real-life lessons, and Akira would learn to seduce shadows, to out-smart them, to persuade them to give up everything they had: their money, precious belongings, even their very selves. He would flirt, threaten, intimidate, any honeyed word or silver-tongued method he could use to make deals with shadows go along more smoothly. Perfect. It would help him out immensely. But, what did you want, he’d asked again.

It felt embarrassing, now that you were put on the spot, forced to disclose it, but although those “golden words” translated well into lessons for others, you found that you couldn’t as easily take your own advice. You struggled with human interaction in your real life, especially of the romantic kind. You could write a healthy relationship out on paper, create the ideal love interest from scratch for a story, but stumbled along words like some socially incompetent fool once it came time to apply that knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, these days even getting true, realistic romantic moments down on paper was a struggle. The well was drying up, writer’s block, as you’d explained it to your online friends. It was near impossible to make something from nothing, and you had nothing. No real romantic experience. You couldn’t help but think this was the route of the problem. Your writing, your precious romance novel would flourish, if only it’s author wasn’t completely clueless.

“Date me…” You mumbled, surprised out how your long moment of pensive introspection had accumulated into this clunky statement.

“What?” Akira let out a breath he’d seemed to be holding the entire time, just watching you think on what method of reciprocity was worth your help. Losing your nerve at the incredulous tone of his voice and the raise of his brows, you shrunk back a bit, ready to defend your words.

“W-wait!” You held a hand out between you. “Not really. I mean…” how to word this…? “Like, fake!” He looked even more confused than before. You released a noise of frustration. “What I mean is, you take me on dates - fake ones - stupid little stuff couples do, for my writing, of course…” You looked toward the ground, suddenly extremely interested in your shoes.

“How does that benefit you in any way?” He smiled, a bit forced, a blush dusting his pale cheeks.

“Well I- I’ve been having writer's block lately. I mean sure, I can give you lines and lessons from my previous works, drabble and things I’ve learned, written down in the past, but I have no fresh material. Stagnation is every writer’s downfall, but I have no experience, I need more to go off of… and then maybe I can even transfer what I discern from our… interactions - er… dates I mean - to you. Does that make sense?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Uh… no,” Yeah, you knew it didn’t, but that’s all you had for him. His hand shook, much less confident as Akira than Joker, and he shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s hard to explain, I just… that’s my deal. Will you take it?” You clutched your bag a little closer to your body. “We don’t even have to tell anybody. I just want to experience it… going out… with someone…” It sounded a little more pathetic now that you were actually hearing yourself. You both stood in silence, Akira contemplating your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you as a person… it was just… complicated…

“Give me a day to think about it,” he spoke quietly, giving you a polite send off before parting ways.

That night, anxiety set in as you rolled around in your bed restlessly.

Did you sound like a creep? Were you being unreasonable? Was this asking too much of him? Does he think you’re crazy? You’ll probably never hear from him again. He’d probably rather find a way in that crazy Metaverse to erase your memories so he can forget the awkward exchange ever happened. Maybe he’ll kick your shadow’s ass one day.

You debated going to school the next day.

＊

Akira’s night, though not as horrendous as yours, was not a peaceful one. Like so many nights, he found himself awoken to the clink of a ball and chain, dressed in striped rags as he stood and walked to the bars of his cell. The twins were waiting, as always, anger in their eyes.

“Look alive, prisoner!” Caroline spoke.

“Our master would have a word with you!” Justine chimed in. Akira looked up, meeting Igor’s large grin.

“You’ve forsaken a bond, Trickster. One must ask, why?” Igor’s hands splayed over a deck on cards on his desk.

“Huh…? What do you mean?” Sleep lingering in his mind, and confused as to why he was here this time, Akira replied.

“I’ve told you, the bonds you strengthen over time and the new bonds you form, they will be what wins this fight. You can only complete your mission, save all that is, through the support your confidants provide, so why have you abandoned this bond?” Igor’s fingers folded together, hands clasped, a show of disappointment. “Now is not the time to not try hard enough.” Was that a hint of frustration in his tone? If so, he didn’t show it.

“...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Akira rubbed one eye lazily.

“You’re not trying to understand, worm! Wake up!” Caroline’s fist banged down across the bars, startling Akira slightly. He looked to Igor again, who held up a single card between two fingers. On its face sat two wolves, both howling up at a glittering moon.

“The Moon.” Igor stated plainly. “Illusion, fear, anxiety, intuition, uncertainty, complexity, secrets, the unconscious mind. A friend, a possible lover, someone unsure of themselves and others. Creativity, shadowed by doubt. Someone who supports others but not themselves.” As he spoke, images of your face flashed in Akira’s mind. Igor threw the card into the air, catching it upside-down, letting the wolves fall into the moon, swimming in its glow. “Reversed: release of fear, repressed emotion, clarity, misinterpretations overturned. Someone who can fix what was upright. But you’ve passed over the opportunity.” Igor swipes his free hand in front of the card, and it disappears.

Scenes play out in Akira’s head. Confrontation with shadows, confrontations with real people, but these aren’t real… or rather, haven’t happened yet.

He receives clarity.

The Moon has more to offer than lessons on charisma, seduction, trickery, persuasion. His intuition will grow, his ability to perceive things before they happen, the ability to read and understand people, and be understood in return. Other bonds will grow, empathy will grow. More friends, closer friends, a flash of blue hair, white uniform, red hair, headphones, then a tidy uniform, a Shujin uniform, gloves, a beige jacket, and finally bouncy curls and a soft, high pitched voice. With your help, the Phantom Thieves can grow. Bonds will strengthen. Complexity, Igor had said. More than meets the eye. Was there more to you? You weren’t too bad, obviously intelligent… a bit odd, but kind enough, and he did find you cute… but pretending, a fake relationship? How could a fake bond strengthen

The card reappears, as if out of thin air, and Igor points to one upside down wolf.

“Me.” Joker whispers, as if guided by an unseen force. Igor points to the other wolf.

You.

He awakens with a start, nearly knocking Morgana off the bed. He has an answer for you now.

＊

He finds you at school the next day, huddled in the library and not where you’d said you’d meet him. You’d been dreading this, waiting for the rejection, your hand trembling slightly on the book in your hands. He sits across from you, a look of determination on his face. Waiting for him to speak was torture.

“I’ll do it.” He holds out a hand, waiting for you to shake it, seal the deal. A contact has been signed.

＊

Your first date with Akira is clunky, unpracticed, unprecedented of course. He doesn’t know much about what to do, either, so he takes you to Le Blanc for dinner. Some coffee and curry, maybe a soda and some conversation on the side? It couldn’t be too bad, right? That’s what dudes do, he thought, bring their... pretend sweetheart somewhere for dinner, right? Sojiro is teasing, of course, wondering who this new person was, why Akira was holding their hand. He smirks like a dad proud of his boy, and Akira, too embarrassed under Sojiro’s scrutiny now to sit down and serve you curry, rushes you upstairs.

After being dragged by the hand up rickety old stairs, you end up in Akira’s room alone. You look around, taking in his sparse decorations, humble belongings. It then strikes you that you are, in fact, alone. Alone with a boy in his room, for the first time in your life. You didn’t know how you got here, and so fast. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe you just needed to calm down. This was part of the process, right? Real couples did this, to get to know each other. He beckons you over, gestures for you to sit on his bed with him. You’re hesitant, but Akira isn’t making a big deal out of it, and you’re not really alone, with Morgana right there, so you sit, as far from him as you could be on the surprisingly soft bed. Struggling for words and new to dates himself, Akira decides to treat you first and foremost like his friend. That makes this all easier.

He spends the next hour or so describing Mementos, his mentor Igor, the twins. He wants you to know everything, and it surprises him. His other confidants, save for the actual Phantom Thieves, don’t know anything about the hidden world their bonds are healing. He describes the arcana to you, the tarot, the way his soul resonates with The Fool, Ryuji The Chariot, Ann The Lovers. His doctor friend is Death, Sojiro the Hierophant. Morgana here is the Magician, and proud of it. He explains how he feels a bond with them, as he now does with you. They make him feel like he can do anything. You’re included in that now. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. How could he say that so casually? It wasn’t like it was a love confession or whatever, but you had trouble seriously telling your online friends you appreciated having them in your lives without adding a joke or meme in there somewhere. Why did he even need your help? He seemed well spoken. You said so, voicing these opinions aloud.

“Huh.. you know, I actually don’t usually talk this much,” he smiled. “Must just be you.” He was only half teasing. You looked away nervously, feeling the need to change the subject.

“S-so, what am I?” You began to stroke Morgana’s fur, and this time he didn’t seem to mind.

“You mean your soul?” He scooted a bit closer.

“Yeah.” It didn’t go unnoticed.

“The Moon.” He replied softly.

He spent the rest of the night explaining the levels of Mementos, and some of the wicked people whose hearts he’s had the displeasure of seeing inside, but the absolute pleasure of changing. You say you aren’t surprised so many people are walking around so hurt inside or eager to hurt others. When the “date” ends - neither of you having even gotten that promised coffee or curry downstairs - you’re touching, sitting shoulder to shoulder looking at the moon outside his window with Morgana on your lap. The room seems a little warmer, a little less humble. Akira mentions with a sheepish grin that it’s getting late, and offers to walk you home.

Rank Up!

＊

You sit in your bed that night, Akira now having returned to Le Blanc, and think about if this will make good writing material or not. You had to have learned something, right? There was something to be gained from every experience… but you can’t help feeling like you’ve warmed up to the thought of Akira a bit more… not too much, however. You smiled to yourself at the thought of The Fool, tricked into dating the Moon, for all it can offer him.

He’d been so awkward at your front door when he dropped you off. You could tell he had no clue what to do. He was frantically looking around. People in movies kissed their date at this point, cheek or lips, depending on how the date went, right? He confessed that he’s one of those people who truly don’t know anything about romance, like you’d mentioned earlier in one of your conversations. You tell him it’s fine, that you didn’t expect anything, that you just met the other day. He thought he was being clear, dropping hints that he might want to peck your cheek, just a quick gesture to kick off your fake relationship, but maybe he wasn’t as slick as he thought. The hints seemed to go over your head. Maybe he really did need help.

＊

Your second date comes in the form of you begging to go back into the Metaverse for some inspiration. He fights you, bringing up the last time a shadow attacked you, but you are persistent. He gives in, taking you to the highest rung of Mementos, where the shadows are weak and he can keep you safe adequately on his own. It is a date, after all, no Phantom Thieves tagging along. Mementos is a bit more frightening than Kamoshida’s Palace, you mention, and he eases your fear, promising to protect you here, always. You take in his Phantom Thief uniform in more detail as you walk the long corridors of the realm of the subconscious and decide he looks quite handsome in it.

You watch him battle a demon that is the personification of lust, a succubus-like creature dripping with temptation and love, or so it thinks. Joker uses all that you’ve taught him so far, which isn’t much, and cons the false idol of love out of their money. It was quite comical yet a bit sad to watch the shadows expression fall from a cocky to a defeated one, but preformative love you’ve decided, is doomed to lose. The irony flies over your head.

From this experience, watching Joker fight with speed and grace, you settle on a genre for your novel. It will be a high-fantasy romance. Joker will inspire your main character, of course, but the love interest… was still undecided. You started drafting her to look like Ann, act like Ann, give off the energy and power Ann does. Ryuji was an option at first as well to inspire the love interest’s personality, but he was a bit too brash. You wanted someone strong, but soft and elegant at the same time. These characters were loosely based on the Phantom Thieves, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

＊

When you leave the Metaverse, though Akira is a bit exhausted, he takes you to a local casual restaurant to make up for the last time at Le Blanc. There, sitting across the counter from you two is an older gentleman. Yoshida, Akira whispers, is a friend of his, another confidant. The Sun. Yoshida makes small talk, asking politely if you’re with Akira, and you feel your stomach clench. You knew this was fake, the agreement was clear, but hearing it aloud, the awkward ‘we’re just friends’ that was coming made you sweat. It still felt like rejection anyway. When Akira confirms that yes, you are in fact dating, your eyes widen, the coil in your stomach releasing. He smiles, taking your hand. This has to be an act, a show to play up the relationship. He’s just performing his duty, his role, holding up his end of the deal in order to simulate a real relationship and give you worthwhile source material… right?

Either way, you appreciate not being publicly humiliated, and smile back. That night, you write down everything, and what it’s like to not be alone.

Rank Up!

＊

Days pass, Kamoshida coming and going, justice being served, and you spend more and more time with your fake boyfriend. Your parents let him come over, and in your room you let him read some of the old poetry you’ve written, some lame pining drabble from your younger years, and some more recent things you’re proud of. He scours your room, digging up old hobbies and photos. You tell him all about them. He tells you he enjoys learning these things about you. You simply smile. It doesn’t seem to be the reaction he was looking for. Not liking the small frown that adorns his features, you pick the conversation back up, asking if he thinks you’ll ever have a persona. He smiles, maybe someday.

Rank Up!

＊

The Phantom Thieves are gaining fame, only more fodder for your writing. The more you hang out with Akira and his friends, the more real it feels. Your online friends can feel it, too. They sense you changing, talking less of writing and more of Akira. They tease you, of course, but they don’t get it. He’s just a main character… just a muse.

This time, Akira walks home to Le Blanc alone, wondering if he should tell you how he feels. He doesn’t like it, holding up this pretense of a fake relationship, pretending the glances and touches don’t matter. He wants to tell you…

...that he’s slowly falling.

You receive a little gift in the mail the next day. It’s a deck of tarot cards. The return address is blank. You call him to tell him all about it, and end up discussing the pros and cons of each card all night. What a coincidence that you should receive your own deck all of a sudden.

Rank Up!

＊

There are moments where you’re afraid you may be falling, too. There was the time that a blue-haired young man stalked you and your friends through Shibuya, turning corners when you did, always on your trail. When Ryuji finally got fed up and confronted the weirdo, asking why the hell he was following you guys, he’d revealed that his name was Yusuke, a student of a painting master, and that he was simply following inspiration where it lead.

“Your friend there, I was drawn to them,” he points elegantly, like some manga bishounen, past Ryuji and toward you. “I beg of you, allow me to paint your form. Something about your normalcy stands out. What I mean is, there is beauty to be found in not standing out, a silent grace in being so plain.” You could tell Yusuke meant no harm, that he simply may be a bit socially inept with his words, as well, but the way he was talking about you set something in Akira on fire. He stood in front of you, shifting until his body blocked yours from Yusuke’s sight.

“They aren’t plain.” He spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone, and you felt your heartbeat speed up. The hint of jealousy in his voice at Yusuke’s request for you to model for him, and anger at him calling someone he found so fascinating plain was evident.

＊

Yusuke seemed to be in denial in the coming days. Though your little troupe seemed to constantly be bumping into him, offering him sound advice and trying to awaken him to the mire of corruption that was the truth behind his mentor, Ichiryusai Madarame, he refused to see reason. He dove further into his art, but you could tell he was hurting. You used your time with Akira these days to teach him how art, much like film and literature, can reflect false truths and influence people. The deception, corruption and shallowness of the media extended to the art world, as he learned after one or two gallery visits with you.

It was then, in a gallery displaying Yusuke’s work, as you sat in a secluded corner alone discussing ways to take down Madarame, that Akira started to flirt incessantly.

He takes your hand, bringing up romantic tropes in movies he’s seen that seem so forced, one-sided, cliche, uncomfortable. He mentions that he would’ve done better, explains how those scenes would’ve played out if he had any say.

“Is that so?” Your brow raises, amused by how animated this usually quiet boy could be when he was passionate about something.

“Yeah! Of course! What, you don’t see me doing that?” he laughed breathily, going on about how the male lead of some high-school romance film Sojiro rented for him was clumsy, forceful, and didn't give his lover time and space to think about their feelings. “I would’ve treated them much, much better… “ his words trail off, as if lost in thought.

“...Is that so?” You ask again, studying his face and asking yourself how you didn’t notice before how beautiful the hue of his eyes were. You sure as hell were noticing now… steely grey, sharp, deep, purposeful. You’d have to write that down… for research purposes of course. When you pull yourself back to reality, no longer lost in the swirl of his irises, you realize he’s staring at you, and has been for some time.

“Do… can I-” he speaks, throat dry, and scoots himself closer. “May I kiss you…?” His voice is soft, so soft, scared.

“...Yes.” You answer, naturally, impulsively, voice just as soft. When Akira leans forward, and softly presses his apprehensive lips to yours, you feel like you’ve been set on fire. Your mind begins to go crazy, while your body is frozen. It’s not that you didn’t like it, some part of you did. You wanted more, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t real. You didn’t truly like him… right? This kiss was fake, for research purposes… to cure writer’s block…

...right?

You were frozen more from guilt than nerves. Weren’t first kisses supposed to feel like little butterflies in your stomach? Did he think he owed you this? Were you taking advantage of him at this point? Did he feel forced to kiss you to keep up his end of the bargain?

Akira deepened the kiss, a hand on the back of your neck, guiding you, begging you to reciprocate. When you didn’t, lost in your own head, he pulls away, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“W-we… we should head home. I’ll walk you…” he sighs. You both stand, make your way back onto the main street from the museum, and are silent the entire walk home.

You think he’s silent because you’ve forced him to think he needs to kiss you, and now regrets his decision. He thinks you’re silent because he’s just forced a kiss upon you, just like some Chad from a movie who can’t understand boundaries. Neither of you know your silence is for the exact same reasons.

Akira drops you off at home with a quiet ‘goodnight,’ and walks home, clearing his head in the cool night air.

“Stupid… jeez… fuckin’ stupid,” he huffs, repirmanding himself. This wasn’t real. You’d stated that from the beginning. This relationship was to benefit your writing, to help him in the Metaverse, nothing else. Nothing else.

Nothing. Else.

It was his fault he let himself develop real feelings. He has no right to be sad, to blame you, to get upset. You’d stated the terms from the very start…

Maybe he really was The Fool.

Rank Up…?

＊

The next few weeks are awkward.

Both of you think it’s your fault.

You go on dates like usual, but they are strictly business. You get writing material, he gets advice, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Yusuke joins the group. Things are great… friendly… strained, tense. Akira wonders what the hell he’s doing, if this bond is even worth it. Weeks pass. He feels your bond with him growing, but not in the way he wishes. It felt like all of his other confidants: visit, gain, rank up, gain power, learn. He wonders if he can keep this up. His heart aches. He wants to touch you more, but can’t, wants to tell you more, but won’t let himself.

＊

One rainy night, he calls you, like he often does when you can’t meet up in person, and tells you he can’t do this anymore. You lie, and say you agree. The guilt won’t let you tell him the truth, that you want to end the farce, move onto something more real. You can sense your feelings for him growing stronger each day, and it’s not fair to him. Without fighting, without the big “it’s not you it’s me you” you’re used to reading about in books, you tell him you respect his decision, and it’s over. When Akira hangs up, he finds himself a bit angry inside. You didn’t even try to fight for the relationship. There was a tiny little part of him that hoped you felt anything for him, that maybe it meant something to you. He cries that night, for the first time in a long time. They are angry tears, frustrated ones.

＊

In your bed, you find yourself sitting upright, dead inside, unfeeling, empty. You feel like a part of you is gone, but can’t pinpoint why. You don’t even notice the tears sliding down your own cheeks as you sift through the pack of tarot cards that mysteriously came into your life. You find The Moon, and play with it, twisting it between your fingers before sending it flying across the room like a paper dart. Did this mean you couldn’t hang out with the Phantom Thieves anymore? Were you losing your only in-real-life friends and… boyfriend(?) all in the same day?

You sifted through the cards and gently set aside the Emperor, the Lovers, the Chariot. Then your hand drifted over the Fool. You held it out in front of your face. A dancing man looking up at the sky with a jesters cap perched upon his head smiled back at you.

The start of a great journey, freedom from constraints. Each day is an adventure. Courage, anything can happen. There is a need to experience new things, to let yourself experience the love you deserve. Be willing to take risks.

A sad, thoughtful smile crosses your lips. You turn the card upside down.

If you disregard the repercussions of your actions, you are the Fool. You cannot see the position you’ve put yourself in. Is everything what it seems to be?

A breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea hitting you. You scramble for your phone, and dial a number.

Silence, ringing, silence.

“...Yeah…?” Akira sniffles. He’s been crying???

“I want… can we talk… can I come over?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not, we came home way earlier than usual. You’re just using that as an excuse.” You were feeling a little braver than usual, the spirit of the Fool within you. You heard him thinking, a sigh that came through as static.

“Yeah… fine, I’ll be waiting.” Relief washed over you.

＊

When you knocked on the door after speed-walking to Le Blanc, Sojiro let you in with a warm smile. He obviously didn’t know about your falling out with Akria, yet.

“He’s upstairs,” he gestured, exhaustion evident in his voice. You rushed past, thanking him with a small bow of your head. Only now was the inevitable fear starting to sink in. Akira heard footsteps creaking on the stairs. Sojiro never came up unannounced, and with that realization, his back stiffened. Morgana picked up your scent, excusing himself, passing you on your way up the stairs. He could take a hint.

He stood immediately, stepping toward you, stopping halfway. You shrunk into yourself, unable to meet his eyes.

“Akira… I wanted to talk…” you muttered.

“You said that… about what?” He was more than a little pissed, but he was always one to hide his temper well.

“Can we sit…?” You gestured to his small sofa. It didn’t feel right to sit on the bed. He hesitated, before shuffling over and sitting next to you. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Oh, there were so many things, but he wanted to know what you thought was worth apologizing over. Maybe he wasn’t being fair, he dialed back his attitude a tad.

“For… making you enter into the agreement in the first place. Someone’s affections, their love, their touch and body… it’s not something that can be forced. It should never be pretend.” You felt like the biggest hypocrite ever right now. His head shook a bit in disbelief, blinking hard.

“I wasn’t pretending!” His hands flew to his hair, mussing it. “That was the problem.” He sighed heavily.

“What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I wasn’t being forced… are you… you must be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” He laughed cynically.

“But-”

“Wait, wait, why did you think I ended our” he put air quotes up, “ ‘fake’ relationship.” He needed this clarification, now. For closure, for redemption, to fix things, whatever may come next.

“Because… because I was forcing you to date me! You were uncomfortable?!” You could feel your voice begin to break, tears clawing to escape. You’d never felt so disgusted with yourself as you did right now.

“Are you serious?” He took both of your hands, looking you in the eyes. You nod. “Answer truthfully. Do you have feelings for me? Real ones?” You bit your lip, that feeling of selfish guilt creeping like bile up your throat. You nod again. “This whole time?” Another nod. He releases you, turning away. “Sheesh, maybe I’m the oblivious one here…” he spoke more to himself than to you. You both sat in tense silence, not sure what to do, what to say.

“Akira…”

“It was real to me,” he moved closer, trapping you against the end of the couch.

“Really?” Your heartbeat was going crazy, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, his hand on the back of the couch for support. “I broke up with you because it was hurting me to pretend I didn’t have real feelings for you, and to think you didn’t want me back, not for real. I thought… that you’d always think of me as just some character for your book.”

“No… Akira… had I known you felt this way…” He leaned in further, your noses bumping slightly, clumsily. This time, he felt no discomfort, no hesitation from your side. His heart fluttered in excitement. You could feel his breath on your warm cheeks.

“May I kiss you?” He asked again, a secondary, unspoken question sitting beneath his words.

“Yes.” Your voice was shaky, but you were sure, for once, of what you wanted. His hand went to your back, cradling you into his chest to lay down flat against the couch. With a passion he’d been holding back, he pressed his lips to yours without reservation. You sunk into the warm, plush feeling, tilting your head at a better angle. He kept the kiss soft, shallow, low pressure, looking for you to give him the signal to stop. When your arms reached upward, snaking around his neck and pulling him harder down into you, he groaned softly, barely audible, before passing his tongue over your lips a single time. You parted your lips, allowing him access, and his hand, pale and trembling, came up and found its way under the hem of your shirt, splayed nervously against the smooth skin there.