#everything is black and white and days drag on forever but blur together at the same time

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

maybe im wrong on this so i didnt wanna ruin the post with my dumb tags (the last post i reblogged thats writing advice). but this is another one of those instances where its like... i feel like its important to look at the "wrong style of writing" and recognise that it still makes you some kind of way. it IS monotonous. it IS tedious. so if for whatever reason youre trying to convey that to a reader, do use the five sentence fics, fifteen in a row.

[daphenines]

everything is going to be okay (OMORI)

by daphenines

NOTE: i have no idea how uploading fanfiction on this website goes so if anyone can tell me how, please let me know :')

link to this fic on ao3

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPICTIONS OF SUICIDE

He remembers so much yet too little all at once.

He remembers sitting under the blazing sun in summer, hiding under an umbrella, watching as his friends laughed together. He wasn’t talkative, but that didn’t seem to matter to them. They would drag him out from where he sat, and force him to join in. He doesn’t remember specific memories, only a vague feeling of warmth, slightly fuzzy at the edges.

Most of their memories were captured in photographs. He remembers looking at them, remembers running his fingers down the smooth face of the polaroid pictures. He saw his face in the photos, a faint smile on his lips. He traced the edges of his face, every joy-softened angle. He remembers what his friend had said as he placed a flower crown upon his head. The boy frowned slightly at the sound of a camera clicking. Photos are our window to the past. In a couple of years, you’ll be grateful I took these.

As he stared at them, he wasn’t sure how he felt.

He remembers listening to his friend read to him, eyes as big as saucers, hanging off his every word. His friend was one of those people who could get anyone to listen, despite his soft voice and shy demeanor. He remembers shuffling closer, as if the words themselves were pulling him in. He doesn’t remember the story, only a blurred happiness, a faint disconnect. The boy rarely smiled, but he’s smiling in this photo.

He remembers his friend watching him and his sister practise for their recital. He remembers how they weaved together notes on a page into a discordant harmony. It was their first practise, and their notes were slightly off. He remembers his friend applauding as they finished, despite the music sounding terrible, smiling wide enough to split his face. 

His finger traces the outline of his sister in the polaroid picture, sitting next to him on a piano stool that was probably far too small for the both of them. In his lap is a violin. It’s new and the wood is shiny. The boy is smiling in this photo, too.

There are photos of a tree. The boy skims over them. He doesn’t remember much, but he remembers that tree.

A rush of feelings comes with those photos. He remembers his friend’s hand, clammy with sweat and tears, clutching onto his. He remembers how his friend rubbed soothing circles into his back as he threw his dinner up into the toilet, how he held the boy as he collapsed to the floor. Most of his memories come in brief, vague flashes. This one seems to last forever, though, the sensations stretching on. He remembers, vividly, the words of reassurance his friend murmured to him in his backyard, under the moon. Let’s make some new memories together, okay?

He feels as everything falls apart, leaving shattered pieces in his wake. He feels as his friend picks those pieces up, and hands them back to him, unafraid of cutting his palms on the sharp edges. He feels the comfort of his friend’s warmth next to him that night. The bed was barely big enough for the two of them. He remembers how cramped it had been, and he remembers not caring. It had been so hot with the two of them under the covers, but the boy didn’t care.

Everything is going to be okay. 

Promise me that we’ll always be there for each other.

He remembers the feeling of rope chafing against his palms, an inescapable phantom, the dark shadow that seems to loom over his head. He doesn’t give it a name, he doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to. But one comes to him anyway: guilt.

The dark black hair that looked like spilled ink around his sister’s body. The white flowers that surrounded her coffin. She looked like she was sleeping. She looked at peace. His friend had been there for the funeral, blue eyes wide, staring into the casket. The boy could read the expression on his face clear as day. He remembers wearing the same one.

This is my fault. This is my fault.

The boy and his friend were there when they buried her. He remembers the sound of dirt raining down on her coffin. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t remember how.

This is my fault. I’m sorry. 

His friend had seemed so calm when it had happened, but his façade fell apart once she was buried. The boy wanted to hold him, wanted to reassure him the way his friend had done for him, but he couldn’t. This was his fault. His friend surely knew that. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

He remembers how the days alone in his room turned into weeks, then months. His friend had tried to contact him but, despite his best efforts, the boy remained locked inside his room.

His friend had knocked on his door everyday for those first months, pleading with him to come out, to just talk to him. He doesn’t remember his friend’s exact words, but he remembers three. 

I miss you.

After he didn’t respond to that, the knocks stopped, until all that was left was his door, and the relentless ringing of static in his ears. 

He doesn’t remember much from when he saw his friend again, only infinitesimal flashes that were as clear as they were brief.

He remembers unhooking the makeshift noose from around his friend’s neck, his fingers skirting over his friend’s torn and bloody wrist, searching for a pulse that is long gone. He remembers running his thumbs over the dark purple bruises decorating his friend’s throat, pushing down on them, as if the pain would wake him up. The boy cards his hands through his friend’s hair. It feels brittle under his fingertips. He takes one of his friend’s hands into his, threading his fingers through his friend’s stiff ones. His palms are sticky with blood.

This is my fault. I’m sorry. I love you. 

The boy’s head drops with a thud next to his friend’s. The wooden floorboards beneath his forehead are so, so cold. Everything is so cold. His lips move by his friend’s ear, his voice a low whisper. The boy barely hears his own words over the ever-present thrum of white noise in his ears. Everything is going to be okay. Promise me everything is going to be okay.

[to-star-lake]

one & only

sanzu haruchiyo x f!reader { you're sanzu's one and only. }

18+ minors dni | murder, drug use, dark themes, rough sex, choking, toxic relationship, character death, bonten sanzu

a/n: sanzu's name { 三途 } is written the same as 三途の川 { sanzu-no-kawa, “river of three crossings” or “sanzu river” } which is the japanese buddhist version of the river styx.

sanzu doesn't call you his girlfriend. he'd never use such pedestrian language to describe what you are to him. soulmate is closer. but still, to take everything he felt about you and edit it down to a single word? it wouldn't be possible.

the best he could describe it is perhaps that you were made for him.

the day mikey introduced you to the other executives as bonten's newest advisor, sanzu stood in the back of the room, unconsciously biting his lip as he stared at your clean and crisp white tee shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks. your perfect skin. your shiny hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. your delicate hands. and the sharp glisten of your eyes. you looked so sincere.

a top scholar and graduate of the national university. your parents had been foreign diplomats. you spoke five languages. all this brilliance packaged neatly behind such a pretty face. oh, you were so perfect. so pristine. i'll make you regret playing with monsters, little princess. sanzu thought he couldn't wait to break you.

it didn't take him long to realize how wrong he was.

he'd stare at your hands, the ones he thought were so delicate, as they beat mercilessly into the skull of a traitor that lay limp beneath you. being a bonten advisor meant you never needed to get your hands dirty. but you didn't mind. and sanzu felt a trickling heat of excitement shimmy up his spine watching the blood splatter across your perfect skin, staining your clean shirt.

he'd listen in awe in the war room as your fingertips traced gracefully over blueprints of the city, and you'd describe plans for a new building downtown. a new shell business to run money through. a merger with a smaller, weaker gang simply as a means to procure disposable foot soldiers for mikey.

on one particular night, he'd sat back and watched you, transfixed, as he pulled the car up beside a dark tinted suv at a stoplight on a deserted street on the outskirts of shinjuku. you'd pointed your gun out the open window, so fast and precise on the trigger, taking out all the passengers in the car. he would've missed the shots with a single blink.

he couldn't recall all the details of the rest of that night. but he woke to find you in his bed the next morning, your naked body tucked comfortably under his sheets beside him.

his head pounded and he tried to remember what happened but all that he could recall were a series of blurred images. of the two of you leaving the war room together after receiving orders from mikey to take out the heads of a rival gang. a vision of your bare thighs, exposed under a short, plaid skirt as you sat in his passenger seat, and the quiet rattle as you attached a silencer to the end of your gun.

he remembered the sound of indistinct chatter and an image of you sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant. a vague recollection of a bottle of scotch, of him staring at himself in the restaurant's bathroom mirror as he wiped some white residue from his upper lip. of you, bent over the sink with a straw in your nose. a blurred reel of your legs wrapped around his waist, of him pushing you up against the mirror so hard the glass cracked and you moaned into his open mouth. you sounded as sweet as you tasted.

in the grey winter light here in his bed, he looked at the blotches of blue and purple bruises that lined your neck and chest. at the edge of your perfect lips, a little swollen and the skin a little cracked. at the indentation of teeth marks on your shoulder, red with coagulated blood under the surface.

your eyes fluttered open and for a moment he was afraid. afraid that the cold light of day would be too harsh for you. afraid that all that was mystifying and beautiful in the night would be destroyed by the light. afraid you would leave.

but you'd looked into his eyes for a moment, and your lashes fell closed and you'd snuggled into his side, languidly dragging your arm across his chest.

let's sleep a little more, my head hurts and we still have at least another hour before we have to go meet the others.

oh, your voice sounded so sweet, still raspy with sleep, a lullaby to his ears.

as bonten leaders, he knew a relationship with you was strictly forbidden. he knew what mikey would do if he or any of the others ever found out. and he knew you knew too.

but you simply shrugged your shoulders as you picked up your clothes that were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. like you knew what he was thinking, and said i'm not afraid of them. are you?

he'd laughed at himself then. just who was corrupting who? he wondered.

the time he had with you began to envelope his heart. and the love he felt for you; small, crackling embers at first, had grown into a fire so bright and wild and twisted it could not be extinguished.

you were his partner; his chosen one. he loved the way your knuckles looked when they were bruised and red; such a beautiful contrast against your delicate and soft skin. he loved the way your fingers graced the handle of your gun, the dead calm of your eyes when you pulled the trigger. he was intoxicated with the knowledge that you were watching every time he carried out his duty as executioner.

his infatuation with you burned in his chest when he'd glance up at you, standing in the distance, eyes fixed on him and you'd slowly drag the palm of your hand up your thigh; testing his willpower to not pin you to the ground and tear you apart right then and there in front of his men.

under the cover of darkness, the two of you came alive. going on sprees, speeding through the bright streets of tokyo, the lights around you a blurred spectral of color to your bloodshot, medicated eyes.

in the midnight hours, your bodies would be intertwined, and in your arms he found a sanctuary. your body was the most addicting drug of all. you made all the pain disappear.

the quiet hours of the early morning, when time teetered on the edge of night and day, he'd lay on your chest, and for just a little while, his world would fall quiet. the air around him felt still. he would be coming down from his high, and he could feel everything. but he didn't mind. these small hours of lucidity shone brilliantly in his mind. when he could hear your breathing. feel your heartbeat so vividly beneath your bones. smell the lingering and sweet scent of your skin on his.

he'd become so possessed by you, so possessive of you that one night when he had you laid out beneath him, your legs spread wide for him, and he thought you looked so beautiful like this. so perfect like this for him. your skin, slick with a layer of sweat, luminescent in the moonlight. your lips, parted and choking out shaky pleas for him, begging him not to stop.

he buried himself so deep inside you, nails clawing into your skin, so desperate to be one with you. and he thought no one, no one else would have you like this. he was so intoxicated by the medley of pills in his system, completely unhinged in the euphoria of being inside you, he'd reached for his gun on the nightstand and held it to your forehead, point blank between your eyes.

you didn't even flinch. he watched you knock the gun from his hands, and slide your fingers up his wrists, and pulled his hands to your neck, letting him wrap them around your throat. if you're gonna kill me, do it with your own hands, you'd said.

god, he loved you so much. he wanted you so much, he needed you so much. he'd closed his hands around your neck with the gentlest force and watched your eyes roll back.

say my name, he'd command. and when you did, he closed his hands more forcefully around your delicate neck so he could feel the vibration in your throat as you choked out his name over and over. you'd clenched down so tight around him and he came harder than he ever had, collapsing into you.

he'd slowly let go of you, chest heaving, and gently caress at the skin of your neck, red and starting to bruise.

y/n...if i died, would you die with me? he'd whisper into your skin.

mmh, yeah. you'd whisper back.

i don't want anyone else to have you. i want you to be mine forever. he'd kiss the corner of your lips.

he'd feel your fingers laced up into his hair, your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him close.

what am i going to do with you...i might really kill you one of these days.

he'd lift his head to look at you. and your expression didn't change a bit. your eyes held the same resolve they always did, and you said, then i'll wait for you by the sanzu river.

this was what flashed through his mind when he walked into one of bonten's warehouses late one evening for a meeting of the executives, and he saw all of them standing in a circle around you, bound and tied, blood streaming from your hairline, your bruised body limp on the concrete.

he fell to his knees then, watching mikey shove the end of his gun against your temple.

did you think i wouldn't find out? mikey's thumb clicked down on the hammer.

he saw your eyes flutter open and find his. you smiled.

the muzzle flash was bright, and the shot rang through the dark, open space.

he stared at the blood pooling from the side of your head into the dust. he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. shit, am i really crying right now? he laughed at himself.

WHO ARE YOU LOYAL TO, SANZU?! mikey demanded.

i'll wait for you by the sanzu river. your words echoed in his mind.

mikey may have been his king. but you were the redeemer, his messiah, his salvation.

the choice was simple.

he pulled his own gun from its holster and held it up to his temple.

i'm on my way, love.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Rainbow After The Storm Andy Biersack X Reader

Word Count: 1,129 

Waning: Angst

What if I told you, life was built to break?

What if I told you "If you love someone, set them free,If they come back they’re yours."

In perfect life; in perfect place.

Every dream was mine to lose,

And that's what it took to lead me back to you.

What had actually happened?

It was all a blur almost the yelling, things being thrown across the room.

Honestly they had both gone through worse.

They felt the others pain on each other's skin.

The way Andy speaks almost breaks Y/N's heart. The sound of shattering glass fills the house,and that’s what makes her eyes widen. 

Y/N’s eyes stare at him she says nothing. She doesn’t have to, her gaze says it all. A thousand words are held in the gaze she bores into him, and Andy knows it, too.

She bites her lip and tighten her grip on the water bottle in her hand. The plastic crunches with the pressure,and she feels hot tears stinging at her eyes. It’s not fair.

Andy's POV…

I knew things were getting rocky between Y/N and I, what would he do to fix this?

My eyes wandered to the horizon the sun was just starting to rise,peeking out from behind white clouds and casting a shadow over the California horizon. 

I took my cigarette butt tossing it in the trash bin inside - and climbed out the window and up to the roof. 

2 ½ hours later...

Y/N entered the kitchen to throw away the trash in her hand just as I was climbing back in through the window.

“Are you sorry?” she asked, I reached for a lighter that had been thrown onto the counter and probably forgotten about for a while, waiting for use. “This keeps happening, Andy, every single time.”

I cringed at that point as I lit up a cigarette holding it between my fingers, speaking while I took a drag.

“But I mean it, I really am sorry! I mean it every time, (Y/N).”

What a damn lie.

“If you meant it, it wouldn’t keep fucking happening.” The words left her mouth in a hiss, I took a step back as she saw my expression shift to frustration.

“Well maybe if you believed me, things would be better. You always just run away to the roof instead of trying to resolve shit, and I’m tired of it!”

Now that pissed me off, with an angry huff I blew smoke from my lungs. “I don’t want to resolve things? Maybe I would if you stopped fucking getting into my shit." I yelled back at

"Maybe if you'd stop drinking so much you'd be a decent damn person Andy." 

The two of us started yelling over each other, blood boiling.

It was the issue, you knew it, and you had been trying so hard to whip the addiction. It was starting to push Y/N's limit with how bad Andy's drinking was turning out to be. 

I winced at the harsh yet true statement, a part of my heart shattered. 

Y/N's POV...

Andy's eyes looked full of pain,hurt,sorrow. They normally had a glint in them when they gazed upon me. A glint so full of love and hope that outdid the average human to even hold such a powerful look it could even murder. No ordinary being deserved to have that power, the kind that sweeps me off my feet and leaves me speechless every damn time.

Everything stood in silence: not a single car dare move along the street, nor  a person speak. It was a delicate silence that if anyone even moved it would shatter and impale either of us -like glass- and it would use the pain as a way to force us to remember how it feels. The silence would hold us down and laugh as it watches us try and scream because it has no remorse for anything or anyone that dares near it. 

Andy broke the silence first  "I'm sorry, my love."

"Don't say that."

Andy broke at this. He needed to say it. To him it was true. Y/N was his love, his life, his world; he meant it with every fibre of his being. Without Y/N , he wouldn't have made it this far so Y/N meant everything to him.

The hole torn open in.Y/N chest feels infinite, as if the vast blackness of space suddenly splits open and begins to suck the sky out. Being married to Andy at first was amazing but during that four years it was at the 3 year mark his drinking began. The fighting was a common occurrence almost daily and the two of us drifted further and further apart. A deep ache and void taking residence where her heart once was. 

Once so  cheery our life together. I miss those days but love and happiness dissolves, print without fixer, a past without present, images faded to shadow. My sadness at what came.across as a sort of betrayal: not mine, the cosmic kind that destines us to be confined to the corridor of our own pain, never glimpsing at each other to notice it.

Vision restricted by the enlarged perimeter of self. Where to begin? How to forge words that join two pasts so fractured within themselves, edges abutting? 

What do about our marriage? Where do.we began? Tears now dropping despite I was trying.so hard not to cry again. So much of forg3 boils down to fear. Not one of the seven deadly sins, but surely the most potent of mine. Fear of not knowing if we can get back to the way we once were. Fear of not knowing if we can get back to being so much in love as if nothing had made the impact it had. Self-centeredness and even feeling unsure.

I look right at Andy. You’re not so different. We all have pain.

Yes, Y/N, we do. He responded and for the first time in a long time calm. No yelling, no arguing,.no.glass shattering.

Suffering. Struggle. Separately shared. Little resolutions, he says. Little reconciliations. What you would call the spark of the divine. That’s what I think we get here, in this life, on earth. I reach out my hand, resting it on Andy's shoulder. We both lean toward each other and with a strong yet firm movement he pulls me.close to him. With effort, I meet his eyes not surprisingly we feel in love all over again as if we had never stopped. "I love you Andy Biersack today, tomorrow and forever even when I die I'll never stop."  "Neither will I baby girl…. neither will I." 

[shieldedbythunder]

(Part one) Thundershield soulmate AU where you can't see color til you find your soulmate, both Thor and Steve can't see color its all black and white til they meet each-other and suddenly the world is full of color, everything is so full of life now and everything is so bright, especially Thor. they spend the next bit taking in the color they've been missing out on their whole lives and connecting now that they are soulmates, and fall in love with each-other like teenagers

(Part 2) Thor takes Steve to Asgard and he sees the color of the Bifrost and sees the color of his home, how beautiful it is and how much he's been missing out on the beauty of his home realm, he asks Steve to stay with there with him for a bit and Steve takes up his offer, they spend so much time together, Steve noticing how beautiful and golden Thor's hair is, and Thor realizing how red Steve gets when he blushes when he compliments him, and now they can share it together as lovers forever

Awwww, I always love this version of soulmate AUs, it's such a lovely idea! And I think it works great for Steve and Thor's first meeting.

Steve barely gets a glimpse of the tall man who drags Loki out of the Quinjet and vanishes into the darkness. But already, he feels something in his vision shifting, blurring like nothing he's ever experienced before as his heart races a mile a minute. Whatever it is, he does his best to shake it off as he grabs a parachute to join Tony in pursuit of the pair - there's work to be done.

Meanwhile, between Loki's rantings about power and the man in the metal suit's prattle, Thor's patience is wearing thin. Never mind the pounding in his head that's been growing since he grabbed Loki from the plane, aching behind his eyes as his vision flickers and swims before him. But as he and the metal man come to blows, something strikes the back of his head, and what little restraint he had left breaks altogether. Whirling around in fury, he’s just in time to see a shield arc back to another man up on a high ledge and-

Neither of them know what name to put to the colour in the other man’s eyes at first, bright and intense as they mirror each other in their shock and amazement. Around them, the world bleeds into colour, but it’s all just a beautiful peripheral as they feel something finally clicking into place within themselves. The two of them stumble towards each other as they lower their weapons, unable to tear their eyes away from each other. Half afraid that it’s all a dream and they’ll wake up to the grey again.

After a few moments of reverent silence, Tony whistles sharply with irritation, his armour almost blinding in its golds and scarlets when they turn back to him. Shaking off the stupor, they gather themselves long enough to help detain Loki, rubbernecking at the new world around them as they take in all the colours. And even as they circle around each other, practically strangers, they still let their fingers brush together as they head back to the quinjet. There isn’t much time to get to know each other over the next few hours and days. The battle in New York is a blur of iron grey and firey reds and oranges, blinding blue lights piercing the sky to reveal the heavens in deep, glittering purple. But through it all, they never leave each other’s side for one moment; neither of them is losing his soulmate, not now that they’ve just found each other. But once the dust settles and the hole in the sky is closed, Steve volunteers to help Thor escort Loki back to Asgard, the two of them pointedly ignoring the knowing looks some of the other Avengers share. 

As the Bifrost takes them away, they’re enveloped in a blinding flash of more colours than they could ever have imagined existing. But all they see is the bright, warm blue of their soulmate’s eyes, clasping hands tightly as they take their first step into their new life. Together.

[jjk-anime-horray]

Call of Spirits

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Spirited Away Au

Chapter 5:

"Come on everyone, hurry it up! We have to finish this room soon so we can start scrubbing the next!" Rang the voice of Nobara quipping to the other maids and butlers the directions and plans of the day.

All of the other floor scrubbers were in perfect synch all around you. Gliding across the wooden floor with sponges like they were skating on ice. However, being your first day your movements were more akin to a hippopotamus trudging through the mud on a sunny day. You were quite slow compared to the rest of the cleaners, but none the less you still contributed to the mandatory scrubbing of the floor, and you realized how much cleaning sucked.

The wrinkles in your fingers could rival the sponge's water absorbing capacity by the end of the first hallway, but that was nothing compared to the hell about to come when you started to scrub the used hot spring baths. You might have to go to therapy after the amount of grim and overall disgustingness you had to remove from under you fingernails.

Luckly Kugisaki was there with you all they way to the end of the day, and by that motivation what really happened is that she was yelling at you to keep up with the other cleaners. It didn't help your case that your brain was flashing back to the events earlier that morning before work.

Your brain shifted back into the garden scenery that you had found yourself in this morning. Beautiful flowers bloomed across the hedges of the lush hide-away. Sitting on the grass underneath you was a very nice plushy brake for your butt from all standing you did before, and running for your life.

You didn't sleep at all the night before. Not even the tiniest wink or glimpse of rest, your mind was washing with the classic before sleep anxiety that anyone with a stressful day ahead encounters.

Your brain's nightly fog didn't seem to slip away with the light's arrival this morning, in fact you were quite forgetful, your memories seemingly couldn't be defined with in your brain's inner blur, and everything was starting to mush together. As if it wasn't just the lack of sleep causing your mental hiccups.

"You dropped this (Y/n)."

"AAh!?"

You stumble back from your comfortable position because of your startlement, only to meet the face of Megumi, who was holding a small piece of parchment with scribbled ink that was all too familiar.

"My flower card!"

You quickly snatch the little paper from his thickly slender hand in a thankful manner, even though he almost just gave you a heart attack. You traced your fingertips over your friend's hand script in endearment.

Reading over the script you notice the name on it (Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)!! That was your name, why couldn't you remember your own name, and why where you addressing yourself as sen in your head.

"Megumi, why couldn't I remember my own name?"

"It's the boss's curse or magic, whatever you want to call it, it's how he controls you."

"Oh, wait that's really bad.....Megumi what are you looking at." You say as you see that young man staring off looking at something.

"(Y/N), we need to go we can't be seen together, just remember you're name alright."

Then with the flap of his wings he turned into a maginificant bird then flew off silently into the sky, with the most beautiful gracefulness as a-SSSSSSEEEEEEENNNNNN!

The elegant voice of Nobara's demanding statement graced the presence of your ears effectively snapping you out of your day dreaming state.

"We got to move kiddo, to the next room, come on I'm not waiting forever for you're sorry ass."

"I'm coming just give me a sec will ya!"

Your feet start to lift yourself off of the floor below you and shift your movement's into a light trot as you catch up to your superior. But as you pass a certain door you notice a spirit waiting out side of it. Cloaked in black clothes, he was clearly semi-human looking, and boyish looking. He wore a mask that covered his face with blue highlights on a white base that complimented his colorless hair. He must of been a guest you thought, you decided to open the door for the fellow quickly before sprinting to meet Nobara up the hall. Leaving the open door behind you, and your bare feet slightly sore from your overall outfit transformation last night.

"What were you lolly gagging for Sen?" She quipped as you finally caught up to the spirit woman.

"Oh, I was just helping out a guest!"

"Ah perfect, but you do now that there are people that get paid to do that for us right?"

"Oh my bad."

"That's alright, it's time to got set up water for some baths, apparently a really nasty spirit it coming in--"Her words fell from her tongue never to be said at the sight in front of the two of you.

Nasty was an understatement. The spitted was polluted, gigantic, and most of all disgusting. It left a sludgy path it's wake that was easily the size of a road, and the same color accept only made up of goop instead of tar. Scratching, Creaking, Gargling would be hear in the stinkish spirits wake as it dragged itself across the wooden floor bound to be ruined right into the room that you and Kugisaki were just assigned to provide service for. The two of you proceeded to agitatedly slowly stroll towards the room in absolute gloom knowing your misfortune of the day, and only saying one word in unison before the entrance to the hell box ahead for the two fo you, but not before letting out a long sigh:

"Fuck."

[bokutosvoid]

drivers license | k.b

Pairing - bokuto x reader (gender neutral)

(A/N; this is a drivers license song fic but bokuto is the one getting his drivers license. I’m sorry in advance)

Text in bold is events that took place In the past by the way <3

Genre; angst. Pure angst.

Word count; 1.4K

“I want to spend forever here” you whispered, rolling a daisy between your fingers. Bokuto smiled, admiring your soft face as you absent-mindedly plucked handfuls of white daisies from the earth. The sun was taking its setting descent and the both of you sat within the field near your home, soaking up the fleeting orange hazed dusk you found made the world seemingly stop around you. Bokuto hoped this moment would never end, maybe he would be able to stay here with you forever, enveloped and hidden in the daisies with the person he felt completed him. 

“Forever?” Bokuto laughed as his large hand found its way to your hair, combing through the strands gently. The forever he pondered about was the forever that, you too, wanted to remain in this serendipity that you had found. The last moments of sunlight glowed off your face as you shifted your head that lay upon his chest, turning your gaze to meet his golden eyes. “Forever” you nodded in conclusion, allowing Bokuto to delve into the look in your eyes. Your eyes held such an emotion, one that neither of you could explain just right, only made Bokuto think you spoke of that forever he wanted. The everlasting forever. 

“Excuse me?” a voice broke through Bokuto’s thoughts, looking up he was met with the receptionist that used to be situated behind the counter. She looked down at him with a smile, holding forward a folded up sheet of paper. “Congratulations on passing” she spoke kindly as Bokuto’s throat was clogged with heartbreak, unable to even force a half genuine smile.”thanks,” he nodded then stood up, not even taking another glance at the lady before making his way to the doors. 

The air outside of the building felt shallow as his chest wracked with pain. An all-consuming, sudden pain that tore through the already dissipating ounce of happiness he had left. He had just gotten his drivers license, something any teenager should feel ecstatic about. And there would have been that excitement if he was standing by your side, the person who had taught him to drive. 

“Alright! You ready?” you smiled, sitting in the passenger's seat of your car. Bokuto was sweating bullets, unable to remember what each dial, pedal and button did. He looked at you and his emotions were palpable through the way he kept his hands on his thighs, scared to crash although the car was off. 

“I don't think i can do this, y/n” he gushed hurriedly, looking at you for sympathy as you only smirked. “Yes you can! First step; hands on the wheel” the way you trusted him to do well eased his nerves slightly as his hands made hesitant contact with the steering wheel. 

You and Bokuto drove through a vacant street, his nervousness filtered out through the open windows as your laugh ceased any negative emotion he could have possibly been feeling beforehand. Street lights overhead passed by in blurs as the laughter you shared filled the car with a feeling neither of you knew would end as soon as it did. 

Bokuto now sat alone in his car, unable to ignore the stark space that now felt like this enormous pitch black beside him. The seat you used to fill now sat empty, the absence of your laugh felt more lonely than Bokuto had prepared himself for. This silence that surrounded him was deafening, splitting and tearing into his chest as the car switched on. A gush of chill air flushed over Bokuto’s face, stinging his teary eyes. Now, all over again, he went through the steps you had taught him. Knuckles burned white from the grip on the steering wheel as Bokuto tried to fight back his glossy eyes slipping tears. 

The harsh reminder of a promise he had made to you hung heavy on his slumped shoulders. 

Bright fluorescents shun down onto your figures, sitting in a roadside diner at one in the morning, didn’t cease the feeling flooding Bokuto’s senses. 

“Okay,” you pulled a white spoon from your lips, shoving it into the dish then sliding the sundae along the red and white table over to Bokuto. “We know, with my teaching skills, you're going to pass,” you smiled as Bokuto pushed a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. 

“So when that happens I want you to do something…” you said. Bokuto looked at you expectantly for a second as he pushed the sundae back over. “What is it?” He asked, wiping a drop of chocolate sauce off his cheek. 

“The second you pass, you drive up to my place.” 

Bokuto found himself sitting motionless, debating whether or not to comply with the agreement you had settled on. He knew it wouldn't help either of you, instead, he was fully aware how much it would hurt him to see you so happily moved on with that person he had seen on your story. Their blonde hair raked down on his insecurity of not being enough for you, maybe things would have lasted forever if his hair was shiny and golden blonde, worthy of shining like the sun next to you while his hair matched that of a rainy day, foggy and associated with gloom. 

Through cloudy vision, your street felt like a magnet against the car wheels, dragging him through unfamiliar suburbs to a place he seldom found himself not missing. He loved you in a way that was tender and kind, and you had loved him softly and with care, like gentle kisses goodnight and everything sweet in the world. But all good things must come to an end and it turns out love that is soft and tender can’t withstand the bitter test of time. 

Your house looked dark, except for the light in your room peaking through the dusk light that edged on the horizon. He waited for a moment, he wasn't sure what for, maybe for you to come running out with a smile, jumping into the passenger's seat once more so you could drive around aimlessly. But it turns out, his waiting came to seeing that blonde walk out of your home, carrying a bag over their shoulder. They stayed the night? 

Bokuto’s thoughts and feelings fused together from then, furious tears rolled down his cheeks freely, burning against his flushed cheeks from this realisation. The realisation that you now weren't around, not here with him and not waiting on him to drive to your place. He couldn't explain this feeling, memories of you searing into his mind as the car bleared some song on the radio, he hoped maybe it would silence your voice and the way you used to laugh with him in traffic ringing through his heartbroken soul. 

His car sat still in front of the daisy field, sniffling softly as his tears dried, looking down at your contact. He contemplated calling you, only to hear your voice even if for only a second. But the want quickly died out on his fingertips as it hovered over the call button, recalling how he was probably the last person on your mind at this moment. 

But what Bokuto didn't know was how you too sat in your car, the engine buzz filling the silence as you looked over the field of daisies, only two cars separating you from each other. You had just called off whatever you had with your fling, asking them to collect their things from your home, leaving out the detail that you still missed Bokuto. You missed his loud laugh, his voice, his hair that reminded you of rain in the most beautiful way. You found that the things you searched for in them, Bokuto had possessed in a way you couldn’t possibly compensate for. You looked at his contact, his name still adorning a heart beside it because you couldn't bring yourself to take it away. You wished to call him, using each fibre of your being to hold yourself back from seeking out the person still living within the crack of your broken heart, even though you didn't know he still kept you safely nestled in the space of his own. 

So you will both sit here, between cars and calls while drowning under waves of words you weren't saying. Among in this field of daisies you had shared when everything was perfect in your small piece of everlasting forever. 

[forever-rogue]

I would really love a super cute fic with Marcus Pike where it’s Y/N’s birthday and they celebrate! Marcus decides on getting her what she’s always wanted! A kitten! (It’s my birthday and I’m getting a cat in January) And then later on, Marcus maybe proposes to her and then they have passionate sex? I don’t know haha, just something super fluffly, but also super smutty. I love reading stuff like that and I honestly thought this would just be something super cute for the heartthrobs! Your work is simply amazing and I can’t imagine anyone else writing this. Thank you so much! ❤️

Sorry for the delay! I hope you have/had a happy birthday and enjoy your new fur baby when you get them. This is soft, but as always, it does contain some smut at the end so 18+ only!

Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader; warnings: smut

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

As the sun filtered in through the sheer curtains, the room was doused in warm, golden light. Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you blinked away the bleariness and let your eyes adjust, fully ready to be greeted by your lover. Rolling onto your side to face him, a small sigh of disappointment escaped your lips as you realized that his side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cold, signaling that he had been gone for some time. You just hoped that he hadn’t somehow been called into work and dragged away from you. 

Slowly sitting up and stretching, you relished in the feel of your joints popping before sliding out from under the warm covers. Your feet slid into your slippers and you grabbed the nearest shirt you spied, which just happened to be Marcus’ as you walked out of the bedroom. As soon as you popped into the hallway, you were hit with the sound of cooking and rustling from the kitchen, accompanied by the delicious smell of what you were positive were bacon, pancakes, and coffee. A warmth settled over your heart as you realized that Marcus wasn’t gone at all, he was right there, at home, making breakfast for the two of you like he was keen on doing. 

You hastily padded along the hallway, ready to greet him and swallow him up with your love, but ever the FBI agent, he beat you to the punch. As you darted into the kitchen, he was standing there, a smile on his face and the biggest bouquet of tulips and daisies you had ever seen in his hands. 

“Happy birthday, honey,” he grinned at the shocked expression on your face as you stopped dead in your tracks, rendered speechless as you just stared at him with the sweetest smile he had ever seen. You slowly made your way over to him, your hands finding his face as you pressed your lips to his in a sweet, saccharine kiss, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you promised him, as you took the beautiful from him, admiring their sweet scent before putting them on display on the kitchen table. You sighed contentedly before going back to him and letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, “I just really, really love you.”

“I love you too, birthday girl,” he promised gently, “you have made me the happiest man and getting to spend my life with you is the best thing I could ever ask for.”

“Funny,” you teased as you reached up and carded a hair through his dark locks, “pretty sure I should be saying that to you.”

“It’s your birthday,” he reminded you with a soft kiss, which you chased with a few more of your own, “and we are focusing on you today.”

“We do that every day, Marcus Pike,” you giggled before burying your face into his chest, “you’re such a romantic. But I love it - love you - more than anything.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in content before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “now, let me finish breakfast so we can eat and then I have a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” you grinned at him, “the flowers are already more than enough, Marcus, really, and getting to spend the day with you.”

“Don’t you worry, honey,  I have a few surprises in store,” he tenderly traced your nose before giving it a gentle boop, which caused you to laugh at him, “now, go and sit down and I’ll get your coffee.”

“What if I want to help?” you playfully pouted at him as he steered you towards the countertop bar where you quickly hopped onto the stool, watching him with adoring eyes.

“Not allowed,” he insisted fervently, grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet before preparing your coffee just how you liked, “you are not doing a thing today.”

“I love you,” you beamed at him, melting his heart as you were akin to a literal ray of sunshine in his heart.”

“I know,” he shot you a wink as he passed your mug.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Marcus,” you jokingly groaned at him, “don’t you think this is a little much?”

“Nope,” he said excitedly as he tugged on the back of the blindfold he had insisted on you wearing. You were in the passenger seat, completely in the dark, literally and metaphorically, as Marcus drove to your surprise destination. After breakfast, he had told you a few more details about the mysterious surprise, but you were just as confused then as you were now. As soon as he’d pulled out of the driveway, you’d tried to keep track of the turns to see if you could figure out where your destination was, or at least in what part of town you were. But Marcus was no fool and was quickly able to figure out what you were doing and made it a point to take a few extra turns here and there, “besides, we’re just about there.”

“A man of mystery,” you grinned as he reached for your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together as he rested them on your thigh, “one of your many endearing qualities.”

“I think you’ll like it,” he insisted as he made a final turn and smoothly parked the car. You tried to listen to see if you could hear anything to give it away, but of course, there was nothing.

“Honestly, there are very few things that I wouldn’t love as long as you were involved,” you promised. He made a small sound of content as he reached up and slowly moved to undo your blindfold. You let it fall to your lap as you eagerly looked around and studied your surroundings. You noticed a few people coming and going with dogs and animals in carriers and it slowly set in, “Marcus...the shelter?”

“Yes,” he nodded excitedly, “surprise! I know we’ve talked about getting a cat and I just...I like the idea and I figured what better time than now? And if...if we ever want to start trying for a baby, we’d have some practice with a cat.”

“Really?” you asked with wide eyes as your heart melted at the sight of his pink tinged cheeks. He nodded as you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that. I’ve always wanted a kitty...this is...perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“Good,” Marcus was relieved at your excitement. He was almost ready to go and spill the beans on the other part of his little birthday surprise, but luckily he was able to contain himself as his pocket suddenly felt weighed down, “come on, honey, let’s go and see if there’s a little one for us.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You strolled hand and hand with Marcus as you walked back through the area where they kept all the cats and kittens. Many of them, the ones that were social and friendly with others were allowed to roam the large rooms and play with the other cats and humans that had been cleared to come in, all in the hopes of finding their forever home. 

Many of them came up and greeted you and Marcus, purring as they wrapped around your legs and offered gentle meows. There were some older cats taking advantage of sunlight and lounging in the windows. There were so many little blurs running around, and so many people getting to know them. 

But as you went around and scratched the ears of one big, soft looking black cat, lying on his side, absorbing the golden sunlight. He looked at you with big, golden eyes, taking you in and Marcus in before keening into your touch and purring loudly. You grinned as he closed his eyes into content and nuzzled into your touch. 

“Nigel,” Marcus read off the little placard that was near him, “he’s nine, and he likes other animals. His owner surrendered him because he wasn’t able to properly care for him anymore.”

“Hi Nigel,” you said softly as you continued to pet him, “I’m sure you had to go through that. You deserve the best home…”

“You like him…” Marcus deduced as you nodded lightly, “it doesn’t matter that he’s older, he deserves a home too. Besides, he could still have a very long life ahead of him, and he seems to like us too.”

“He does,” you agreed as Nigel turned his attention to Marcus, meowing gently for such a big cat as he studied him with wide eyes, “what do you think Nigel? Would you like a new home?”

Before either of you could say or anything else, a small white and tan little blur hopped up on the cat tree next to Nigel, looking at the two of you with big, green eyes before sitting down. She was small, a kitten still you had no doubt, but had such a curious little face. You exchanged a look with Marcus as came closer, seeking your touch. Nigel observed the little intruder for a moment, and you swallowed nervously, wondering if these two would get along. The larger cat nuzzled against the little one, and curled around him while making a soft sound. It almost appeared that Nigel was protective over the little one, making sure she was safe and sound. 

You looked at Marcus, wondering what the two of you should do. He met your gaze with an excited expression on his face, as he used a hand to pet each cat. Both of them practically melted into his touch as they purred loudly. He looked back at you with a surprised little expression as he shrugged innocently. 

“I love them,” you grinned as the younger one turned to you and garnered your attention, “I know you said one cat...but what if...what if we got two? These two seem really attached…”

“It would be a shame to separate them,” he agreed as you both realized what was happening. You weren’t going to expand your family by just one little family member, you were getting two new friends.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“That was delicious,” you set your fork down as you swallowed the last bit of dessert - it was pie, homemade to all your preferences by Marcus. You’d insisted all day that it wasn’t necessary, especially after the day you’d had, but he was just as insistent, wanting to do all of this for you. Little did you know that there was still a big surprise coming your way, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Hmmm,” he tapped his fingers against his chin thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head, “no, I don’t think so.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re right,” you agreed as you moved to grab your empty plates to the kitchen to set them in the sink. Marcus beat you to the punch, taking everything from your hands as you playfully chided him with a kiss to his cheek. You sneaked a peek into the living room. Both Nigel and Alicia, as you learned her name was, were fast asleep on the back of the couch, wrapped up in soft, fuzzy blankets you’d gotten just for them. The excitement of the day and exploring their new home had tuckered them out; it was funny - they’d only been with you for a few hours, but they fit into your hearts and home like they had always been there, like they were meant to be there. 

“Honey? Can you come and help me real quick?” his voice sounded...different...was he nervous? You stood up and made your way back into the kitchen, hoping he was okay and nothing was wrong and - oh gods. A million different horrible things went through your mind as you picked up your pace and hoped that everything was alright. 

But as soon as you got into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as you found Marcus, on the floor on one knee, a soft grin on his face as he held open a small velvet box housing a gorgeous ring. Your hands went to your mouth as you realized exactly what was happening. Tears were already pricking at the back of your eyes as he looked up at you with a small smile. 

“Marcus,” his name was a soft, reverent thing spilling from your lips as he reached for you with his free hand, pulling you closer.

“Honey,” he looked at you, eyes wide and nervous as he searched for the right words. You held your hand tightly in his and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly rendered speechless, “I...umm, I had a whole speech planned, and I can’t - can’t seem to remember a word of it. I just….I love you so much, you have made me so happy, happier than I ever thought could be, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of life with you. You have made me the happiest man and if you should say yes, then you would make me the happiest husband. I...will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathed softly at him, as he pulled the ring out of the box and quickly slipped it onto your finger. He stood back up slowly and wrapped you up in his arms, peppering kisses along the side of your head before kissing your cheeks and lips as a few warm tears slid down your cheeks, “a million times yes, Marcus. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you,” he wiped away your tears, “happy birthday, honey.”

“This is the best birthday I could ever dream of,” you grinned at him, “thank you for this - everything, Marcus.”

You stared into those soft brown eyes, taking it all in as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him with a gentle, but fierce intensity. Marcus wasted no time in picking you up, as your legs wrapped around his waist and his lips refused to move from your lips. 

He made quick work of carrying you back to the bedroom, your hands fumbling around with the buttons of his shirt as he kissed along your jaw and neck. He placed you gently on the bed before pulling off his shirt and following suit with his pants and boxers. You grinned up at him before he came over to you, slowly pushing your dress up, pausing for a moment to make sure you were okay with it, before carrying on and pulling it up and over your head, throwing it in the growing pile of clothing. 

"You are so beautiful," he whispered before nuzzling his nose against yours and offering you a small kiss. You sighed against him as his large, warm hands worked to unclasp your bra and slide it down your arms and into the pile. He kissed along your jaw and down your neck, taking his time in showering your body in saccharine, reverent kisses. 

"Marcus," his name never sounded more sweet than when it dripped from your mouth like golden honey. You raked your nails up and down his back as he continued to kiss you softly. You arched your hips into his, spurring him on as he reached for the waistband of your panties and tugged them down in one fluid motion, "I love you."

"I love you," he whispered before he slowly pushed into you, in no rush at all to reach a climax for either of you as he set a languidly and leisurely pace. 

His eyes were glued on yours the entire time, his expression soft as he watched your face shift into a look of pure bliss. You held him tightly against your body as you moved with him, relishing in the soft praise and words he whispered in your ear.

"Marcus," you whispered his name before carding a hand through his dark locks, "'m not gonna…"

"Let go honey," he swiped his nose against your collarbone before trailing kisses along the column of your throat, "its okay."

Almost as if he possessed a magic tongue, and you supposed he did in some ways, you came undone under him. Marcus was close behind, whispering your name softly, as the two of your reached your peaks. He rolled over, lying on his back as he pulled you on top of him, giving you lazy kisses, as you basked in the afterglow.

"Happy birthday, honey," he whispered as he touched your cheek, "I can't wait to call you my wife."

"I can't wait to call you my husband," you grinned at him, "you are everything, Marcus."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[miraculous-ninjabird]

Posting this older work at the request of @rosiehunterwolf

No I don't have anything else context wise for you, sorry

No Working Title

Rating: T for swearing and tw

This is Angst.

TW for: panic attack, mentions of pain/injury, mentions of body modification

Word count: 1862

Summary: Lloyd wakes up after a dangerous showdown with his father that ended badly. Something isn't right, he knows it. He's just not sure what. It doesn't help he can't remember what happened

The first thing that Lloyd becomes aware of is the pleasant sound of singing. The melody is unfamiliar, but soothing. It reminds him of a memory he can’t quite fully grasp. Just a fuzzy feeling of warmth, and safety. It’s a feeling he feels the need to cling to with all his might. A large part of him wants nothing more than to stay just like this.

Another, smaller, part of him is telling him he should do...something. But he is tired. So incredibly tired. He would much rather stay as he is, comfortable and listening to the unfamiliar song.

If he had been in charge, he would have stayed as he was forever. Unfortunately, his mind was being incredibly uncooperative and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. There was still something… Lloyd tries desperately to remember what it is. His brain short circuits and in the end he gives up, allowing the music to lull him back to sleep.

When Lloyd comes to for the second time, he is more aware. Soft voices are arguing above him. A throbbing pain makes itself known to him, pressing behind his eye. He makes an attempt to blink, and instantly regrets the choice. Doing so causes the pain to morph from something moderately uncomfortable into a white hot searing sensation that, for a terrifying moment, completely overtakes him. It starts to fade quickly enough, but it leaves him uncomfortable and upset. In an effort to distract himself, he focuses on the conversation above him.

“Please. It’s been three days. You have to take care of yourself Kai,”

“It’s at least partially my fault this happened. I’m not leaving until I know he’s gonna be okay,”

“I’m not going to get into the fault argument since we’ve already been there. But we know he’s stable. I’ll be here the entire time. Nothing is going to happen. Just six hours. Sleep, eat, shower.”

“I can sleep and eat without having to leave,” Kai counters weakly. Even in his hazy state, Lloyd could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“We both know you won’t do either of those things.” Nya pushes gently. “I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left that chair for something other than the bathroom in the last week. That’s not good for him or you. You won’t be any help to Lloyd, now or when he wakes up, if you can't at the very least take care of yourself. The last thing we need is both of you out of commission.”

There was a pause, followed by Kai grumbling his agreement. Lloyd struggles with himself, making an effort to do anything to let Kai know that he was here. A movement. A sound. Anything to reassure Kai that he is here. He feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness. He tries to fight it, but as the soft singing from before resumes, he knows he’s lost. Barely a moment passes before he sinks into the darkness once again.

When he comes around for the third time, he is actually able to open his eyes. He is once again met with a stabbing pain, but this time it is more bearable. Blinking slowly, his vision begins to come into focus. Something about it was off but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. All he knew is it was making it difficult to think and even harder to focus. The harsh lights do little to help.

The room he’s in is unfamiliar. Sparsely decorated with dull grey walls, there isn’t really much to look at. An empty chair is placed next to the bed with a blanket folded neatly across the back. There is a sink in one corner, and another door leading to what he assumes is a bathroom. He is alone.

As Lloyd struggles to push himself into a sitting position, the door slides open. Nya steps in, steaming mug gripped tightly in her hand. She looks up, starting in shock when she sees Lloyd. The mug slips from her grasp, shattering on the ground. She hardly seems to care as she rushes to his side.

“Lloyd!” She cries. “You’re awake? Since when? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Urghhhhhhh,” He groans, not quite able to quite form a coherent thought. Nya pauses her questions, seemingly realizing Lloyd wasn’t ready for that yet. Strong arms reach out, helping to settle him into a comfortable upright position. The lights are still too bright. He presses his hands into his eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain. It feels wrong, in a way. The skin under his one hand feels far too cool and strangely...metallic? That couldn’t be right. He must be imagining things.

“Is something wrong?” Nya taps his hand gently, bringing his focus back to her.

“Lights,” he murmurs.

“Oh! Let me fix that…” she gasps. There is some shuffling and the lights dim to a more acceptable level. He lowers his hands and squints. This he could deal with.

“Better?” She asks, and Lloyd nods. Nya gives him a smile. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since...a minute or two ago?” He blinks rapidly as one half his vision blurs strangely, almost like tv static. “Something is wrong with my eye. I can’t quite...I don’t know. It’s all blurry and weird.”

Nya’s smile drops instantly. She reaches out, grabbing both of his hands, fixing him with an intensely worried look.

“Lloyd, how much do you remember?” She presses gently. Lloyd racks his brain.. He remembers going to visit his dad, but the events afterwards are a terrifying blank.

“I...I don’t know,” he whispers. “I can’t remember anything from after I got there.”

Nya lets out a soft ‘oh’. The look on her face tells him there is something he should be remembering.

“Not to scare you or anything but…” She steps away, retrieving a hand mirror from the sink and handing it to him. Lloyd takes it, looks, and immediately drops it. He stares at the wall for a moment before hesitantly picking the mirror back up, studying the reflection.

“What the fuck. What is that? Nya. Tell me right now that I’m imagining things. Fuck. This can’t be real,” Instead of two completely normal matching human eyes, he has...whatever this is supposed to be. His left eye is now entirely black except the iris, which glows an eerie green color. Matching green lines etch the side of his face, extending up into his hairline and across his cheek. WHY DOES HIS EYE LOOK LIKE THAT? What the fuck happend to him?

As he stares, his vision once again starts to blur. Panic surges through him as he realizes what he is looking at. He has a robot eye. An honest to god robot eye that he has no memory of whatsoever. Someone had cut his eye out and replaced it with this monstrosity. Why can’t he REMEMBER?! Desperately he tries to recall something. Anything really. He comes back with nothing. Just one giant empty blank. There had to be something. You don’t just wake up one day with a robot eye and not remember it.

Out of nowhere, a thought strikes him. His eye. It looks just like Zane’s had. The lines carved across his face look just like the ones running up and down Skylor’s arm. The glowed the same shade as everything in his father’s stupid base. Did that mean…?

An uncomfortable constricting feeling takes root in his chest and he lets out a strangled gasp. No no nonononononono this couldn’t be happening. Stupid stupid stupid! He would never...but his dad. His thoughts begin to spiral as he desperately tries to stop himself from piecing things together. He no longer wants to know. Don’t think. Don’t remember. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Lloyd. Breath,” Nya’s voice cuts through his panicked haze. As she speaks, he becomes aware of the fact he has not, in fact, been breathing. He takes a gasping, shuddering breath. His lungs don’t like that and he devolves into a fit of coughing. The mirror is plucked from his grasp and firm hands squeeze his arms with just enough force to drag his mind back to the real world. Nya speaks again.

“Look at me.” He obeys, turning his gaze on her. She opens her arms, a silent gesture. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate, flinging himself at her with what limited strength he has left and pressing into her. With a start, he realizes that he is crying.

“You’re scared. I would be too. I wish I could tell you it was all a dream,” She murmurs softly. “This is undoubtedly strange and scary for you. There’s no avoiding it.”

Strange and scary? Life altering and utterly terrifying seemed more appropriate terms. Waking up missing part of his memories wasn’t a thing he really knew how to handle. Unexpectedly becoming part android was not something he was equipped to handle. Theorizing his father was responsible was NOT something he wanted to even think about handling. Not in the slightest. How was he supposed to move on from this?

Nya seemed to sense he was spiraling. Maybe the fact he has started to tremble uncontrollably had given it away

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t finished. You may be experiencing something horrible, but you aren’t alone. I’m here. Kai is here. The others are all here. Whatever happens. We are here to support you.” Nya pulls him tighter, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

Lloyd doesn’t really know what to say. There isn’t really anything he can say. He finds himself clinging to her like she is a lifeline. His head is throbbing, and he finds himself feeling drained. Nya’s arms are warm and comfortable, but it’s not enough to drive off the fear. It clings to him, worming its way into every dark corner of his mind. He wants to scream, but the best he can get is a choked sob.

In response, Nya starts to hum. Lloyd recognizes the tune immediately. It was the same one from before. He latches onto the sound with everything he has. The effect was almost instantaneous. When focused on the soft notes, the panic fades to the background. It was still there, but more manageable than before. Slowly but surely, he starts to feel like he can breathe again. His whole body relaxes into Nya’s embrace. Maybe if they could just stay like this...

It’s only a few minutes before Nya hears the soft sound of snoring. Looking down, she sees that exhaustion has won out and Lloyd has once again slipped into unconsciousness. That was a relief. She’d screwed that up big time. Next time he woke, she would make sure to tread more carefully. And when Kai came in to relieve her, she would have to make sure to update him on the situation. He would undoubtedly be mad, but she wasn’t about to leave a panicking Lloyd to go wake him up. Looks like things were going to be far more complicated than they’d originally thought...

[marvelfansince08love]

“My loyalties lie with you, not the title you’ve been given” - Part 5

Word Count: 3k 

Pairing Cordelia Goode x Protector!Reader 

Warning: Some mentions of blood, fighting scene I guess? 

A/N: So sorry for the late update on this series, these two chapter are pretty heavy and I wanted them to be perfect! I hope you enjoy! x Thank you so much @canarypoint for editing and reading over and fangirling with me x Also a huge thank you to my girl for encouraging me to continue and for helping edit both parts, I love you <3

Side note: The Entity is slightly based off Michael Langdon but it isn’t him. 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @chewbacca0805 @creepingwolfberry @bluevelvetbitxh @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @nyx-aira @versonstar @witchxaf @r0an0ke @pearplate @kikaykimkim @the-obscurity @mssallymckenna @minavenable @lezzzbehonesthere @goodeday2u @screechingshepherddeputygoth @softsleepypeach  @grilledcheeseandguavajelly​@shes-a-cancer-b @venablemayfairgoode

Part 5 

“What have you done, you stupid girl.” Fiona’s voice growls, startling you from your thoughts as you glare over at the woman.

“Protecting Cordelia, something you aren’t familiar with,” You snap back, anger spiralling throughout your body as you shake slightly. Fiona scoffs shaking her head as she slowly approaches you, standing a hair breath away her dead eyes stare into your own. 

“I always knew your love for her would get you killed one day,” Her voice laced with a certain emotion you would never associate with her with; fear. A humourless grin appears onto your cold lips as you take in her aged face. 

“Quite poetic is it not?” You murmur, your eyes showing no emotion not willingly to give this woman any satisfaction of seeing your torn vulnerability. 

Before she could answer a white light surrounds you all, making you squint and hiss at the brightness of the glow. Within a blink of an eye, you regain your senses gasping for mortal air as you reawaken above Fiona’s grave. Warm hands caress your cheeks as they continue their inspection for any harm. 

“Shhh you’re okay darling, it’s me. It’s me.” She repeats over and over as your wide eyes take in your surroundings the feeling of panic and anxiety erupts through your chest. Your eyes finally land on brown eyes full of reassurance and worry, seeing the familiar gaze makes you relax almost instantly as you try to even out your erratic breaths. 

“Lia,” You croak, clearing your dry throat. She smiles watery at you and nods mouthing a ‘yes’ before placing the crown of her head against your temple. 

“It felt like you were gone forever and then your body started to twitch uncontrollably I thought-” 

“Cordelia.” Fiona speaks from the side of you both, keeping her distance from her daughter. Cordelia tenses beside you before turning to face the woman she calls mother, she slowly stands from her crouched position keeping a steady arm around your waist as you gingerly stand with her. The two Goode’s stare at each for a moment taking in each other’s appearance, 

“Power looks good on you, dear.” She croaks, as her eyes scan her daughter’s stance. No longer cowering from the past supreme. 

“And death hasn’t done you any good, mother.” Cordelia retaliates, scolding herself silently for allowing herself to bite back. 

“Marie, would you like some help getting up? Shit, you white bitches.” Marie grumbles, as she shrugs off the dirt that lays against her clothes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower until the smell of death leaves my body,” She informs, huffing as she takes her leave, Cordelia nods in acknowledgement at the Voodoo Queen mouthing her thanks as Marie nods back in reply continuing on her way. You stare longingly wanting to also depart from this awkward reunion as the two continue to stare one another down. Fiona breaks off the staring contest first as she flicks her wrist revealing a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, sparking one up. Inhaling deeply she allows the smoke to blow out into the cold dark night and sighs. 

“So, where do you want to start?” She asks, her careless persona strong as she continues to take in the nicotine. Cordelia smiles cruelly. 

“I’d rather we didn’t revisit the past, you are here for one reason only and that’s to help us defeat this darkness.” 

“The Entity,” You interrupt, correcting her softly, your eyes clashing with Fiona’s briefly. Cordelia turns to face you in confusion.

“While we were down there we got a lovely visit from Papa… He gave us little to nothing on the damn thing but told us his name.” You inform her, watching as she takes in the information. 

“He?” 

“Yes, the thing is a man. Big shocker there.” Fiona drawls out, through occasional puffs of smoke. Cordelia opts to ignore her mother, focusing her attention on you. 

“Did he give you anything else?” She asks, her voice laced with slightly desperation. You shake your head much to her disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Lia.” You apologise, wishing you could have given her more  She smiles reassuringly and cradles your cheek briefly shaking her head slightly. 

“No don’t be sorry, you risked a lot going down there. I- Thank you,” She says, her eyes lingering onto your own for a second longer. You almost feel like you could drown into her gaze forever but before you could reply she steps away clasping her hands together as if resisting herself from touching you again. 

“If you two love birds are done, I would like to run a hot bath with some nice salts, maybe a lovely glass of scotch,” Fiona rudely says, already making her way out of the graveyard and towards the car. You both blush as you avoid each others eyes, making your way back to the vehicle Fiona’s distance voice whining from a distance, “Have you got a spare pair of sunglasses, I wouldn’t want my ‘dead eyes’ scaring the children,” you scoff as you open up the front passenger door purposely moving into the seat, Fiona huffs as she settles into the backside. You open up the glove department and pass the older blonde a pair of black sunglasses. 

“Bold of you to assume you didn’t already scare children before you died,” You bite, a teasing grin appearing on your face as you feel Cordelia’s scolding but amused eyes on you. Shrugging, you settle into your seat and stare out into the night, Papa’s deal heavy on your mind as guilt settles within your chest. Looking into the wing mirror you can feel Fiona’s gaze through her heavily tinted glasses, gulping you turn away from her judging gaze focusing on the road ahead. 

‘What have I done?’

***

Pulling up at the Academy, you can see the older girls lingering by the window curious to see the woman that’s been brought back from the dead. Myrtle stands regal as ever by the front door, her signature cigarette holder in hand as she takes a drag, her icy gaze burning heavily into Fiona’s form as she makes her way up the steps of the Academy. 

“You look awfully ghastly my dear,” She comments, her fiery hair matching her sass. Fiona scoffs holding her arms out to the woman. 

“At least I have death as an excuse, you old hag.” She fires back, grinning icily at the redhead. You and Cordelia share a knowing glance used to the pair’s bickering back and forth, as you hover close behind the pair. Myrtle chuckles dryly as she steps aside to let the older woman through before placing herself in front of you and Cordelia stopping you from following.

“Are you both okay, my dears?” She asks, her voice no longer full of ice and venom as her motherly gaze scans you both. You both nod smiling softly at the woman who holds you both in such high regard and vise versa. Cordelia presses a kiss to her cheek before moving past her and into the building not wanting to leave Madison and her mother in a room alone together for too long. You hover for a moment debating your next words as you take in Myrtle’s form. The witch frowns at your fidgeting state, silently questioning your hesitation. 

“I did something stupid,” You admit quietly, briefly glancing through the open front door making sure no one else could hear your confession. The redhead steps away from the door and loops her arm around your elbow guiding you away from the entrance so you could circle the grounds. 

“My dear girl, you have a look of someone with a heavy heart. Please speak to me,” She comforts softly, her tender voice makes your eyes tear up as you blurt out your secret. 

“I made a deal with Papa Legba. If we don’t deliver him the Entity’s soul then he shall take mine,” You confess, tearfully. The woman remains calm and quiet as she allows you to continue. 

“I’m not even scared of that, I’ve never been scared of death but- He mentioned my powers and the darkness as if sensing my potential ability to destroy everything in my path. I don’t even know what I’m capable of anymore, Myrtle.” You admit, your real fear spoken out loud makes you sob as the older woman pulls you into a bone crushing hug. She whispers harshly with a touch of tenderness into your ear. 

“You listen to me, my sweet girl.” She pulls back and holds onto your face with both her hands, forcing you to keep your attention on her distraught face. “You are not evil, you may have powers that you have yet to unlock but you could never be evil. That power that swirls inside you is the most powerful magic I have ever come across that’s why you are the protector. You’re of love and light my dear, that darkness that wants to pull its way through is unmatched to that of the light,” Your eyes blur as you take in her reassuring words, collapsing slightly into her arms. 

“You should tell Cordelia about the deal,” She advises, making you pull back from your embrace slightly offended by her comment. 

“It would kill her Myrtle, I promised her that I’d be beside her always. I can’t-” 

“Would you prefer that you didn’t and then die without giving her a chance to fight for your life,” Her words penetrate through your heart like a stab wound. You gulp feeling torn by her words and guidance. 

“I’m the one who’s supposed to fight for her life,” You argue weakly. Myrtle chuckles amused, before holding your gaze once again. 

“Y/N haven’t you realised it yet, darling? You both continue to fight for each other, you think after all these years Cordelia didn’t once ask me about you. Or how during the attacks with the witch hunters a few years back, you didn’t step in from the shadows and take out the last remaining vermin as they tried to attack her.” She pauses for a moment allowing you to take in her painfully truthful words. “You both have had each other’s backs since you stepped foot into this academy all those years ago. This will be like any other time, so tell her and fight like hell against the bastard, together like always,” She finishes her speech, her breathing becoming erratic as her words spill from her mouth. The sound of a twig snapping startles you both from your private moment, slow clapping starts from within the shadows around the trees. Pulling Myrtle back slightly you inch away from the dark forest that surrounds the Academy. 

“My, so much wisdom from such an experienced witch, bravo.” The deep voice teases, as the figure becomes more clearer as it steps out from between the trees. Stood dressed in a black suit and a devilish grin is, the entity. You tense instantly as you keep your gaze on his confident form. 

“Get to the house,” You murmur to Myrtle,  who goes to protest. “Now.” You force out, watching as his grin becomes more apparent. 

“Yes, listen to your dear protector.” He taunts, watching as the redhead flees to the academy to alert the others. His black eyes turn to you a glint of mischief sparkling within the darkness. 

“It’s more fun when they are terrified, makes for a better meal.” he teases, folding his hands in front of him. You glare at his smug expression. 

“Sorry I didn’t realise we were dressing up for the event,” you comment, wanting to keep him distracted for as long as possible in hopes that Myrtle and the other older girls manage to perform the safekeeping spell allowing the younger witches and warlocks to be sent as far away as possible from here. He chuckles amused at your attempt of distraction.

“Well it is your funeral, my dear. I merely dressed for the occasion.” He follows up, his hands becoming more invisible as the black mist surrounds his fingers. You can feel your powers boiling at the surface as your body becomes aware of its current threat, tiny sparks tingle from your fingers as you keep a close eye on him. Before he can make a move you throw your hands out, throwing him further into the woods wanting to keep him as far away from the academy as possible. His confident exterior falls after you make your first move, striding deeper into the woods you follow the line of destruction already made by his flying body. The faint sound of your name being called from the house, gives you pause allowing him a chance to take advantage at your distracted state. Black mist encircles around your feet as your body begins to tense, fear spikes through you as you start to lose awareness of your own body, unable to move anything as it continues to circle around your waist. 

“Y/N!” Cordelia screams as she races forward, Misty and Queenie moving to the side of the man effectively startling him from his task, both chanting in Latin as he loses his focus on you. Tears build in your eyes as you feel your senses overwhelm you again as you regain them back, Cordelia stands at your side in a flash, keeping her eyes on the entity as he continues to fight off the two older witches. Marie and Fiona join the pair as they begin to lose the upper hand in their ongoing fight. 

“Cordelia- the girls,” You choke out, holding onto her arms for dear life. Her hand strokes through your hair briefly, 

“They're okay, the other girls got them out. Myrtle is with them.” She informs quickly, ready to move away from you to help with the fight, noticing Queenie’s unconscious state as he manages a good strike to the witch. Before she can move you grip her arm, needing to tell her before it's too late.

“Cordelia I-” 

“This can wait Y/n, we've gotta attack while we can,” 

John Moore appears next to you with your brothers in tow, ready to take him on as you reluctantly let go of her arm, Marie flies backwards as he strikes her next effortlessly knocking back every effort from each of them who dare to reach him. Elijah makes his way around the fight, attacking him from behind as he launches forward, taking him to the ground before disappearing from beneath him. A deep chuckle echoes throughout the tall trees as you all look for the location of his voice, Misty kneels closely next to Queenie as she slowly regains consciousness. 

“You won’t win, your powers are nothing compared to mine,” His voice sinister, as if whispering in your ear. Cordelia looks over at her dishevelled witches gulping slightly. 

“Michael, Elijah get Queenie out of here now,” She demands, her voice trembling. They try to protest but your eyes silence them from speaking any further. 

“Ah yes, run away. I like the chase,” He taunts further, still invisible to the eyes as we keep an eye on the clearings surrounding us. The boys move quickly towards an exhausted Queenie, throwing her arms around their shoulders as Misty trails behind them, ready to attack if anything were to happen to them as they retreat. You keep your back close to Delia’s as the other three keep close, creating a make shifting circle. 

“Fucking Coward!” You shout into the air, frustrated by his cat and mouse game. He appears then leaning lazily against the tree trunk, that devilish grin on his face once again. 

“Oh my dear, we both know that’s not true. Little Ms. Protector, poor thing having so many expectations to live up to,” He pouts, taunting you some more as you clench your jaw. You try to shake off his words, knowing he’s looking for a window to get into your head. 

“I’ve been watching you for a while, Miss Wardwell. That darkness that swirls deep inside is boiling over and soon it will all topple over,” He continues, you feel Cordelia tense next to you as your normally bright coloured eyes darken a deep black. 

“Enough of this!” Fiona exclaims, launching forward to attack using her magic, startling him slightly as her attack strikes his cheek from afar causing the smallest trickle of blood to drop from his cheekbone. He touches the trail of blood examining his red stained finger before turning to the woman, his eyes blown black. Tree branches move on their own towards Fiona, Marie and John wrapping themselves around their wrists and waists pulling them in close to their tree trunk keeping them in place, a trail of black mist surrounding them to stop any magical advantages. 

“I wanted to play nice but now you can watch your only daughter die,” He says, smiling mercilessly at the woman before turning his attention onto you both. You move quickly in front of her, as you try with all your might to keep the mist at bay as it seeps through your protective barrier. Your head begins to pound as you feel your powers weakening as Cordelia helps with the barrier, as the mist encircles you once again you turn towards your Cordelia helplessly. She places her hands delicately against your cheeks, her fingers trembling against your now wet skin. 

“I can’t hold this up for long,” You whimper, feeling yourself becoming less aware of your senses, the tiniest touch of Cordelia’s lips against cheek is the only reassuring embrace as you close your eyes wanting to hold onto the feeling for as long as you could. You lean your head against Cordelia's as watery eyes match her tearful ones, she smiles brightly at you, that same smile you saw the very first day you met her. Before you could tell her the one thing you’ve wanted to say since that day you walked out on her wedding day, you succumb to the darkness.

I love you.

[arvandus]

Touch Pt 7

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter everyone!  Thanks so much for your patience. Trigger warnings: emotional numbness, sensory overload, PTSD-like symptoms (anxiety, fear, nighmares/flashbacks).

Recommended Chapter Song: Paralyzed by NF

Part 1   Part 6

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 7 – Aftermath

Dabi woke from a dreamless sleep, his body stiff.  Disorientation fogged his mind as he tried to place where he was, his eyes bleary.  The view of his window, the dark curtains hanging with a heavy stillness, came into focus as his blurred vision dissipated.  The angle of them seemed… off.  He turned his head slightly, the metal frame of his bed level with his gaze.

He sat up, his hand cradling his head, as he took in his surroundings.  He was on the floor, a pillow behind him where his head had rested.  His blanket was a messy heap next to him.  He had no recollection of how he ended up there.

Dabi stared around his room, noting the time of day from the light through the window – mid-afternoon. There were items scattered around his room.  Water bottles everywhere, a box of crackers on his nightstand, a ripe banana on his desk that was covered in little brown spots, and cans of soup.

Hunger hit Dabi like a truck, the need for food primal.  He pushed himself up off the floor and opened one of the cans of soup, drinking straight from the container.  It was lukewarm, but it didn’t matter.  He followed it up with the banana, gone in a matter of seconds.  There was no joy in the food; just a basic need to quell the emptiness in his gut. He grabbed a water bottle and quenched his thirst

Then, he sat on the edge of his bed, and did… nothing.  His eyes stared ahead in a dead gaze.

Time lost its meaning. Existence meant nothing.  He sat, unmoving, his mind frozen, thoughts empty. 

Minutes passed into hours.

It wasn’t until dusk began to fall that something began to shift in him.    Awareness slowly crept on him, his consciousness dragged out of a grey bog.  Time gradually returned, and a single thought surfaced in his mind.

Something was wrong. Something was… missing, but he couldn’t place it.

He looked around his room with empty eyes, seeing everything but observing nothing.  It was his room.  He knew that.  But nothing in it mattered.

He stared at the box of crackers on his nightstand.

Something… happened.  Last night. He tried to recall what it was.  Half-formed images floated to the surface of his mind, hazy and blurred.  Pills swirling down a toilet, a lake dock, sitting on the floor of his shower, your face.

He looked down at his clothes.  Was this what he was wearing before?  It didn’t seem right.

More images drifted to the surface. His bathroom door framed in yellow light.  A water bottle. Your hands.  It was like having mismatching puzzle pieces, with half of the box missing.  Nothing quite fit together, and he couldn’t remember what the picture looked like.

Before he could dwell on them, deeper, more ingrained images came to his mind.  His mother’s face.  His father’s eyes.  Dabi’s mind paused, focusing on them, waiting for a reaction that never came.  For the first time, they stirred nothing in him.

Realization slowly dawned.

He just didn’t care.

Dabi felt nothing. For anything. He was dead inside, his soul a black void where emotions were supposed to be. Even his rage was silenced – the one thing he never let go of, the one thing that defined him.  But now, he felt not even that.  He had no purpose, no intentions, no motivation.

He sat silently, aware of what was missing, and yet the severity of his predicament eluded him without his emotions to guide him.  His mind was intact, but it was a barren wasteland, devoid of color and meaning.  Thoughts still ran through his mind, but they were only facts, script on a page.  Perhaps he should be concerned. Or maybe even elated, no longer weighed down by his demons. But instead, he felt what could only be described as a gaping maw of emptiness.  He could feel the pull of it, a heavy gravity that needed to be filled with something he didn’t have and couldn’t find.

Why?  Why was he not feeling anything?

Had he finally gone insane? His mind so broken that he’d officially shut down?  He’d gone through withdrawal before, but nothing as severe as last night.  But even despite all he’d been through, he’d never been able to completely turn off his feelings like this, especially without drugs.

No, this was something else entirely.

Dabi sat there in silence, taking in every sensation, every aspect of his physical self.  It had been probably over twelve hours since he threw up the pills he stole.  He should still be struggling with the pain of his scars and the withdrawal.  But there was nothing.  There was no pain at all.  He stared at his hand as his eyes followed the staples along the bottom of his palm.  A vague memory of your fingers brushing along his skin drifted up from the cloudy depths. The faint echo of your voice followed.

‘Let me help you.’

This…emptiness…must have something to do with you.  It was the only explanation that made any sense.  Maybe if he talked to you, perhaps you could explain it to him.  Maybe then he’d understand.  Maybe you could fix it.

Then maybe… this emptiness would go away.

But Dabi couldn’t find the motivation to get up.  Instead, he stayed rooted to his bed, his eyes taking in his surroundings a second time.

His bathroom door was open, and he could see the toilet and sink from where he sat.  Flashes of memory flitted through his mind before he could barely register them.  The sight of the toilet bowl filling his vision, partially dissolved pills floating in yellow bile.  Pills falling from his cupped hands, clattering across the floor.  The memory of sitting on his shower floor returned, this time accompanied by the sound of someone humming.

So many broken pieces…

He spotted the hamper, filled with dirty towels; some of them weren’t his.  Another memory trickled forth, clearer this time – sitting on the toilet, a towel over his shoulders while someone – no, you – dried his hair for him.

‘I won’t look.’

Another piece of the puzzle. But where did it fit in the twisted, spotty timeline of last night? It must have been after the shower.  And the humming… did you sing to him?  Or was that part a dream?  Some of them had to have been dreams, or maybe hallucinations. His mother, for example, wearing a white dress.  His mind began sorting fact from fiction, and slowly the story started to take shape.  The vomiting was first; he had stolen your pills. That much he could remember – it was the clearest.  Then came… the shower, perhaps.  Then you must have dressed him and treated his scars.  What happened after that? He couldn’t seem to remember.  All that kept coming to mind was his father’s eyes.

Dabi sat with the stillness of a statue while his mind continued to dissect what he remembered, his original plan of seeking you out momentarily forgotten.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized – you were there through everything.  You were there for the vomiting. You had showered him, dried him, and dressed him. You cleaned up after him, and made sure food and water were brought in for him.  You even used your quirk to help with his pain.  Each piece of the puzzle somehow connected back to you. You were there for every moment, every step.

You never gave up on him.

Something deep within him began to stir, a part of himself that was normally kept under lock and key by the dark parts of himself.  It was something he had very little experience with, an emotion that hadn’t seen the light of day since he was a young boy.  A… warmth.  It came slowly, timidly, barely recognizable at first, disguised as a gentle ease in the set of his shoulders and the smallest curve of his stoic lips. 

Whatever you had done with your quirk was starting to wear off.  Dabi was starting to feel again.

The warmth trickled in, the only thing that could fill that empty chasm in himself, and he clung to it in desperate need. Life was beginning to have meaning again… he had meaning. Before, nothing mattered.  Now, everything mattered.

When was the last time someone had looked out for him so selflessly the way that you did?  How long were you with him?  The entire night?  His mind played over the memories of you that he could recall.  You were gentle.  You were patient.  You stayed because you cared and because despite what he’d done, you knew that he needed you.

The warmth continued to grow, bringing a sense of safety that he didn’t know was absent before.  It settled itself comfortably upon his heart like a dove, as if it had always belonged there, the soft gentleness of it stunning him to the point of breathlessness. 

For the first time in forever, he felt… loved.

The trickle became a stream, and the stream became a river. His heart tightened, his breaths coming out in heavy gasps.  He was so consumed by the impact of what he felt, that it wasn’t until he felt the droplets falling onto the backs of his palms that he realized he was crying.  He welcomed it, letting the waves crash over him, the turbulent force of this single emotion reaching every dark crevice that ever existed in his labyrinthine heart.  It consumed him in its purity, unfettered by the darkness that normally lurked in his soul.

A heavy need forced itself to the forefront of his mind, to seek out the source of this emotion, the reason for its existence.  He knew it instantly – it was you.  He wanted to see you, to be in your presence and hear your voice.  He wanted to see you smile.  He wanted to feel your touch, not for your quirk, but simply to feel the softness of your hands, to feel wanted, to know that he was worth touching.  He wanted to touch you too, to wrap his arms around you and feel your warmth, to press his forehead against yours and…

Dabi hesitated, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as his tears dried on his cheeks.  What is this??

He wanted….

He wanted you.

When did that happen?

Had it always been there, lurking, going unnoticed in the noise inside his head?  Or was this new, something bred from a single night of hardship and selfless dedication?

In that moment, it didn’t matter.  Dabi stood up from his bed.  He needed to see you, to talk to you.  What would he say?  For the first time, he didn’t know, words failing him for an emotion he’d never felt before.

Something on the floor under the edge of his bed caught his eye.  It was just barely visible, but he noticed it immediately, its whiteness contrasting with his dark wood flooring.  He bent down and picked it up, staring at the item. It was a white pill bottle, medication for insomnia.

A new memory – the sound of items falling onto the floor, crashing and clattering loudly.

Did you spill your bag last night? 

‘You just want to keep the pills for yourself.’

Dabi froze, his eyes wide. That was his voice.  Did he say that to you? The words were sharp, dripping with contempt and barely contained rage.  It was a jarring contrast to what he was feeling now.

He dropped the pill bottle as if it burned him.  It clattered loudly on the floor, and the sound of it rattled loose another piece of the puzzle.

‘where did you put it??’

His voice again.  Demanding.  Angry. Threatening.  He saw your face, exhausted, wet tears on your cheeks, eyes wide with fear.

What had he done??

Something snapped inside himself, a realization.  Nausea washed over him, sinking deep into the pit of his stomach.  It flooded the warmth he had felt before, tainting it.

Shame.

Shame at how his addiction controlled him; shame that you had to suffer because of him; shame at his affection for you, as if he had any right after what he did.  It began to consume him, morphing into a towering black cloud of guilt, its dark shadow beckoning other emotions from the depths like haunting creatures.

Dabi grabbed his head in his hands and collapsed to the floor on his knees as more emotions were set free, released by your fading quirk like guard dogs freed of their chains. The emotions came and trampled over him with sharp claws and heavy paws.  With jagged teeth, they ripped apart at the happiness he had felt minutes prior and tore into his vulnerability.

Humiliation. 

Humiliation that you had to baby him, wash him and dress him like an infant, and scold him like a child.  Humiliation that he needed you simply because he wasn’t able to handle this on his own.

Disgust.

Disgust with his lack of self-control, disgust with his own fragility.  Disgust at his feelings towards you, and the vulnerability they opened up in him, a vulnerability he couldn’t afford and didn’t want. He had cried just minutes before, overcome by emotion and all because of you.  He didn’t even know he had the capacity for tears anymore.  He recoiled from it, a sour taste in his mouth. 

Finally, anger.

Anger at your sacrificial ways, at how willing you were to put yourself in harm’s way for a man you didn’t know, a man who didn’t deserve it.  Anger at himself for giving in to your kindness and letting you get close. And anger… anger at everything. This fucked up situation, his fucked-up life, his fucked-up family and the fucked-up world they were all a part of. His mind rolled over the dark thoughts like a hard candy melting on the tongue.  It was bittersweet.  Tainted.

Addicting.

Even as the sinister emotions destroyed him, he welcomed it, embracing them for their familiarity, donning them like an old suit made just for him.

Dabi was himself again.

His eyes roamed around his room, taking it all in – the food on the desk, the makeshift bed, the pile of towels in his hamper, the abandoned white pill bottle on the floor.  You were everywhere he looked. Now, all he could think about when he thought of you was that last and final memory he could recall - your exhausted, scared, crying face – and all he could feel was the maelstrom of negative emotions tied together by the thick chain of guilt.  It weighed heavily on the newfound feeling of affection that hummed stubbornly under his skin, ever present.

Dabi closed his eyes against it.

He had to get out of here, far away from the presence of you and the cage of memories. He needed to clear his head so he could think.  He quickly stood up and dressed himself, before grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and rushing out of his bedroom.  He shrugged it on as he passed your door, forcing himself to keep his eyes in front of him.  

His feet carried him down the indoor stairwell, old and reeking of piss.  His boots pounded quickly down each step until he came out into the old lounge and bar, the only common space for the old, run-down hotel building. There, the other League members sat, watching the news over a game of cards.

Shigaraki glanced up at him as he entered.  “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you too.” Dabi replied.

Twice chimed in.  “Shouldn’t you be in bed??  We don’t want your germs!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dabi grumbled, halting briefly as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge.

“You were sick as a dog last night.” Mr. Compress explained.

“Yeah. We all heard you.” Spinner chimed in. Magne and Twice nodded in agreement.

Dabi scoffed. “I’m fine.” He opened the can and took a swig.

Toga stood up and got uncomfortably close into Dabi’s personal space, feeling his forehead with her hand.  “Are you sure?  Y/N said you had the flu.”

Dabi felt annoyance bubble in his veins at the invasion. “Yeah, you know what, I am feeling a little nauseous.  I think I might throw up.”

Toga visibly paled and instantly backed away; she hated vomit. 

“Hey!” Spinner interjected. “Take it somewhere else!  You already got Y/N sick, we don’t need you spreading it to the rest of us.”

“What?” Dabi demanded.

Toga returned to her seat at the table.  “She hasn’t come out of her room all day.  I texted her to see if she was okay and she said she was sick too.”

Magne folded her cards down on the table and peered at Dabi over her sunglasses.  “You two sure have been spending a lot of time together…”

“What is this, high school? She’s been helping me with an injury I got on the job.” Dabi replied.  “No different from the rest of you.”

Magne reclined in her seat and took a sip from her glass. “I think she has a crush on you.  She gets flustered every time I bring you up.”

“Ew! On Dabi??” Toga scrunched up her nose. 

“What’s the matter, Toga? Jealous?” Dabi mocked.

“Why would I be jealous when I have Izuku and Ochako?” Toga said with a dreamy sigh. 

Dabi rolled his eyes at her. She was completely delusional.

Dabi’s scars on his ankles began to itch and burn.  While the others wasted his precious time with their blathering, your quirk was gradually wearing off.  It’d only be a matter of time before he’d have to come seek you out again for your help. He clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth grind from the pressure.  It was the last thing he wanted.

“I’m outta here. I got better shit to do than listen to your shitty gossip.” Dabi commented as he made his way towards the back entrance.

“Keep a low profile.” Shigaraki ordered.  “We’ve got a meeting with the Shie Hassaikai coming up soon.  We don’t want to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.”

Dabi didn’t even bother to turn around as he gave a half-assed wave, the door closing behind him.

“Someone’s a little touchy…” Mr. Compress commented in amusement.

Magne let loose a huge grin. “He didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?” Twice asked.

“That she has a crush on him.”

“Aww, do you think he likes her back?” Toga asked dreamily.  “That’d be so sweet.”

“The man could use a little love in his life.” Twice chimed in.  “He should totally hit that.”

“Dabi doesn’t like anyone but himself.” Compress commented.

“Nah, he’s just super committed to Stain’s mission.  The man’s got dedication.  I respect that.” Spinner replied.

“Of course you do.” Compress replied.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean??” Spinner demanded.

“You’re the biggest Stain fanboy I know.”

While the others continued to bicker and laugh, Shigaraki stared at the back door in silence.

 ------

Dabi inhaled a deep breath of cool air as soon as he stepped out of the building.  He hadn’t bothered to don a hoodie this time, since it wouldn’t make much difference for this seedy, poor neighborhood.  Heroes rarely patrolled here, and the ones who were assigned to this area were lower level heroes and newbies.  It was a steppingstone towards more “respectable” hero work, where the neighborhoods were less impoverished, and more money could be made.

Dabi let his feet carry him down the sidewalk, sticking to smaller side streets and dark alleyways. He didn’t care where he went, only that he needed to move his body; anything to distract from the creeping fade of your quirk while he dealt with the whirlwind of thoughts in his increasingly aching head.

Magne’s teasing words floated in his head, bouncing around like mosquito that needed to be squashed.

You had a crush on him.

Dabi hated how the words made his heart pound faster, the suggestion blossoming the smallest seed of hope in his chest.  Dabi crushed it with a scoff.  That might have been true before, but after what transpired last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slammed the door in his face.

The energy drink in Dabi’s hand lost its flavor, and he chucked it into the nearest trashcan. 

It was for the best.  He didn’t need any attachments, especially now that he’d finally managed to find a place where he dreams could finally be realized.  The last thing he wanted was to be diverted by something he couldn’t have; and even if he could have it (yeah fucking right), it wouldn’t last.  What would be the fucking point?

That was what he tried to tell himself, but the thoughts rang with an empty hollowness.  Instead, the only response he could find was the itchy discomfort of guilt mingling with his desire to be near you.  It filled him with a painful longing that he couldn’t control, not without his drugs to numb them.  The more he tried to ignore it, the more it nagged at him until a new emotion began to creep out of hiding.

Fear. 

Fear at losing you.

Dabi nearly faltered in his steps.

Lose you?  He never even had you to begin with.

There was no undoing what he’d done; he’d hurt you, that much he was sure.  He’d stolen from you and spewed his anger at you… and that was just from what he could remember.

A new fear, heavier and darker, blossomed like fire in his gut as his mind focused on that single thought.

What he could remember…

How far did he go?

Toga’s voice played in his mind.  ‘She hasn’t come out of her room all day.’

He knew you weren’t sick, because he wasn’t sick.  So, if you truly refused to come out of your room, was it because you were just exhausted? Or were you scared of running into him?  Were you tucked away in your room, nursing wounds that he was responsible for, wounds that others could see? 

Did he hit you? Burn you? The uncertainty made Dabi’s blood run cold. He didn’t know.  He couldn’t remember. 

Dabi knew he wasn’t a good person.  He walked a thin line between ruthless vengeance and vigilante justice, casting judgment on others and killing without shame.  He was fueled by his anger, keeping it in check by the thinnest of morality – don’t hurt children. 

Even when the Vanguard attacked the training camp, he never directly hurt any of the kids, even if they were training to become heroes.  Sure, he led others with more violent tendencies than his own, but that wasn’t his responsibility, right? He focused his efforts on distracting the teachers so they could get their targets.

Dabi gave himself a dry scoff.  Who was he kidding… if push came to shove, he would kill them; sure they were technically kids still, but they were swiftly entering adulthood, and just as responsible for the choices they made as he was at that age. They chose to be a part of that life; auditioned for it, even.

But children?  Small kids, who had yet to figure out the world?  He drew his line there.

Don’t kill kids.  But everyone else… everyone else was fair game, because everyone was guilty. Everyone had their hand to play in supporting the lie that was hero society and the damage it wrought – they were all culpable.

But you were different, right?  You weren’t a part of hero society, not anymore. That’s why you were with the League. So, you should have been safe.  But if his rage became unchained, his delicate moral center muted by desperation and pain, then there was no telling what he would do.  He already knew he had that capacity for violence.  It had never bothered him before, not once. 

Not until now. Now, it scared him.

Too many missing pieces.

He knew his rage was a wild beast and wasn’t easily tamed, yet he saw no evidence of its destruction.  On the contrary, he’d woken up on his floor with a pillow under his head.  Nothing in his room was burned, and even more telling was the fact that whatever had transpired, you’d somehow managed to make sure he was comfortable, tidied up his space a little bit, and collected your things.  If he was that angry, that desperate, how did you manage to calm him down?

Maybe you had knocked him out before he reached that point.  He wasn’t sure… he couldn’t feel any lumps or bruises on his head, but then again, your quirk was still in effect.  Or maybe you’d used your quirk somehow.  Could it even be used for that?

Or maybe it never happened at all… maybe those things he said to you weren’t real, and that image of you that was ingrained in his mind was nothing more than a nightmare.  He could only hope...

One thing was certain…

You’d stayed.  You stayed until he was unconscious, only leaving when you knew he was safe from himself.  If he really had hurt you like he’d feared, the evidence he woke up to would have shown a different story.  But there was nothing, no indication of violence.  The slightest bit of relief washed over him.  Maybe he wasn’t a complete monster after all.  Still, he wanted to see you, just to be sure.  He needed to make sure you were alright.

This brought forth a fear of a different kind. He was now painfully aware of how much he cared for you, and it scared him.  Agony was slowly creeping over his body, his legs now burning and stinging as if covered in fire ants, yet all he could think about was whether or not you were okay.  He could tolerate the physical pain, at least for the moment. What he couldn’t tolerate was the cyclone of emotions that stirred in him, some of them new, some of them old. Some of them about you, some of them about him… and some… some of them about his family.  After all, when was the last time he felt cared for?

Dabi didn’t want to think about it.  All he wanted was to tune it all out like he’d done for years.  Except this time, tuning them out was proving to be especially difficult.  Dabi normally had his drugs to help him with that part; they let him float in an almost euphoric numbness, letting only the most powerful of emotions through, most typically anger, but sometimes glee, particularly if he was finding his work especially satisfying.  This time though, he was on his own, with your quickly fading quirk and his own self-control his only tools.

A new wave of pain began to overtake him as he began to feel the pain of his scars along his sides. He faltered for a moment, ducking into an alleyway to clutch his core with his arms, as he sucked in sharp breaths through his clenched teeth.  His muscles began to ache as well. 

He was already out and about.  Maybe he could find someone during his walk… a dealer.  The streets were rife with them at this hour.  There had to be something out there that would be strong enough to fix his predicament, right?  Something that didn’t involve you.

The idea died as quickly as it had sprung up.  Dabi had already betrayed your trust once.  Doing so again, after all you’d done for him, would be the nail in the coffin. He was desperate, but not that desperate.

Not yet, at least.  If he took too long getting back to you, then that could easily change.

He was running out of time. He’d have to go back soon, but he didn’t want to, not yet.  He didn’t want to show up at your door, with only weak apologies in one hand and shame in the other, pitiful gifts compared to what you’d given him.  He was shitty with words when they really mattered, and he knew there was nothing he could say or do that could remedy the damage he’d done.  But he needed you, and deep down, despite the conflicting emotions he struggled with, he cared what you thought about him – a fact that wasn’t easy for him to recognize let alone admit to himself.  He wanted you to know that even though he was an asshole, even if you might not want to have anything more to do with him, he was still grateful for what you’d done.

Dabi needed to find a solution.  He wouldn’t return without one. 

 ------

You felt like crap. Exhaustion pulled at you from every angle, your body weak.  At least your scar no longer hurt.  Sleep had descended on you quickly, but it was anything but restful; the pain of your scar had made you drift in and out of consciousness, with no relief to be found. When you did sleep, the pain brought forth confusing nightmares made of mixed memories.  Two pairs of angry, ocean blues eyes haunted you in your dreams, melding together into a single menacing glare, burning you from the inside out.  Orange flames licked at your skin, and you had woken up panting, covered in sweat.  Nausea washed over you, forcing you from your bed to throw up in the bathroom, your body wracked with shivers.

The rest of the day was spent in and out of bed, trying to rest and forget everything but not being able to.  Nausea gave way to hunger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your room.  Your nightmares were too fresh in your brain, and you were afraid of running into Dabi, to see his blue eyes and see someone else, an angry, harsh face wreathed in flame and red hair.  Instead, you ate the granola bar that had been in your bag and drank the bottled water you always had on hand.  It helped for a little while, and you lingered in your room, answering your texts from Toga on your phone and trying to find something, anything to distract you.  You knew it’d only be a matter of time before Dabi came to knock on your door needing your help, and you didn’t want your trauma to get in the way of helping him, not after all you’d been through.

Of course, that was even if he decided to come to you anymore.  There was no telling how much he remembered or what he thought or felt.  You had heard his door open and close earlier in the day, heard the sound of his quick footsteps pass your door.  Your heart had pounded in trepidation, afraid he’d come to you before you were ready, and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat ashamed at being scared of him.

You didn’t want to fear him, but you did.  You had found yourself in the crosshairs of his anger last night, and for the briefest of moments you were genuinely afraid for your safety.  Your hands rubbed at where he had grabbed you.  There were no bruises thankfully, but you could feel the ache where his fingers had wrapped around your arms and squeezed. 

A part of you was angry, too.  Angry that Dabi had let himself get to that point, angry that he had lost control. You tried not to be – you knew you couldn’t really understand the level of suffering he was going through, and he quite literally wasn’t in his right mind when it happened.  But you couldn’t help it; you felt wronged.  You’d given so much of yourself, and each step of the way you were either met with betrayal, resistance, or anger.

Your anger wasn’t just with him, though; it was with yourself.  Why did you even let yourself get wrapped up in this?  Treating his wound is one thing; but helping him with his addiction?

You sighed.  The answer was simple: you hated to see him suffer.

Maybe it was your savior complex.  Or maybe it was the unspoken attraction you had for him. It wasn’t just physical… that part was obvious.  But there was more to him, a complexity beneath his cocky, sarcastic exterior that kept pulling you in like a moth to the flame. You could see it in his eyes when he had moments of silence, moments when he thought you weren’t looking or thought you couldn’t read his body language.  He was guarded and isolated, fueled by a motivation that was slowly destroying him. And yet… for whatever reason, he had decided to trust you, to accept your help and let you in, to help guide him through something incredibly personal.  Perhaps it was just out of desperation; it wasn’t like he had a lot of options.  But you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it.

Maybe Dabi was lonely.

Your anger slowly reduced from a boil to a simmer.  This wasn’t over; you couldn’t turn your back on him, not after all you’d both been through, not after he put his trust in you. You knew that if he knocked on your door that you’d answer it.

The fear, however… the fear lingered.  You still had to see if tonight was any better, if the hybrid treatment of your quirk and your meds were enough to help him endure his suffering until he got what he really needed.  What if it didn’t work?  Your stomach dropped at the thought.  You couldn’t survive another night like last night.  You knew you couldn’t.  Not with your own trauma lurking over your shoulder and your inability to fall back on your own medications to help you through it.  You were a giving person, but even you had your limits.

It wasn’t until dark blue dusk quickly began to surrender to evening that you finally decided to brave the confines of your room.  Your stomach was eating a hole in itself, and you knew your body needed energy if you were going to treat Dabi again tonight.

You pulled yourself out of your bed, slipping your feet into your slippers before making your way to the door.  You opened it up and nearly jumped out of your skin as Dabi’s unexpected presence filled your exit, one hand stretched out to knock, the other holding a white plastic bag that smelled suspiciously of food.

Your eyes locked with his instantly, and for the briefest of moments, the fear you had been trying to bury sprung forth, freezing you in place.  His eyes really did look like Endeavor’s.  How had you never noticed it before?  It was almost uncanny.  But before you could dwell on it further, Dabi’s voice cut through your mind.

“Hey.” He said. It was just a single word, but something in his tone made it lasso around your soul and pulled you back to the present.  It didn’t hold its usual taunt, and the anger that you’d heard last night was now complete absent.  If anything, he sounded… contrite.  Fear melted away for the moment, slithering into the back of your mind like a snake where it planned to make a home for itself.

“Hey.” You replied, lowering your eyes to focus on the details of his jacket.  Anything to not look him in the eyes again, at least not yet.  The cerulean blueness of them was too intense. 

Dabi noticed instantly, of course, and even though he expected as much, he was surprised at how much it stung him.  “I brought ramen.” He stated, holding up the bag as evidence.

Ramen.  Of all the things he decided to bring you.  The humor of it wasn’t lost on you, and you could feel your wariness melt away slightly, replaced by warm amusement.  It was a peace offering.  It obviously wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start, and oddly perfect.

A small smile teased the corners of your mouth.  “Thanks.” You replied.

Dabi’s breath caught in his throat at the sight, a wave of hope and relief hitting him unexpectedly. The strength of the emotions caught him by surprise, and he tried to tamp them down.  Damn, he really did miss his drugs.  Everything was so much more… sensitive right now.

An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you continued your standoff in the doorway, before Dabi finally spoke.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a hesitant breath and opened the door enough for him to enter. You gave him a wide berth, avoiding contact even as your heart pounded in your chest. Dabi was in your room.  Again.  This time though, it felt completely different.  He seemed different.  And you knew you were different too.  You’d lost some of your warmth, your openness. 

He entered your room and seemed… lost, which was so uncharacteristic of him.  Dabi never looked lost about anything.  He always carried himself with a casual confidence that you envied.  Before, he would have easily found a spot for himself, kicking his feet up intrusively on your furniture and fixing you with a cocky, lazy grin.  This time though, there was none of that.  You couldn’t help but feel guilty as you watched him stand awkwardly in your space, unsure of where to sit or what to do.  Once again, you couldn’t help but wonder how much he remembered from the night before.

“Here,” you offered, shoving aside the pile of papers and books on your desk to make room for the bag in his hand.  He set the item down on the surface and began to untie it. You bravely moved to stand next to him, watching as he took out the chopsticks and the napkins.  You were close enough to smell the broth in the containers, making your mouth water and your stomach rumble.  Loudly.

“Hungry?” he teased as he kept his eyes trained on the bag.

“I haven’t really eaten all day.” You confessed.

“I know.” He replied.

“You do?”

“Toga told me.”

“Oh.”  You watched as he took out the containers, setting one of them in front of you with chopsticks and napkins set on top of the lid. “What kind did you get me?”

He peered at you with keen amusement. “The same kind you got me.”

“That’s fair.” You replied as you opened the lid, the steam caressing your face.  You opened your chopsticks and were about to dig in, when Dabi pulled out a third rectangular container from the bag and opened it. “You got gyoza too?”

“And mochi.” He replied.

You stared at him for the first time, and his eyes locked with yours.  This time, no fear came forth.  Instead, you felt surprised.  His eyes, usually dulled by his drugs, were now lively and swimming with emotions. He seemed… guilty. Ashamed.  He genuinely felt bad.  Some of the anger you had stored in your veins slowly began to evaporate.  So, the man had a conscience after all.  Not that you ever really doubted it, but you were glad to see he cared; and not just that… he was showing that he cared.

You gave him a soft smile. “Thanks, Dabi.  I love mochi.”

He blinked at you but kept his expression neutral before averting his eyes back to his container. “I didn’t get any drinks.” He said.

“That’s okay.” You replied.

Dabi took the mochi and the gyoza and placed them on your nightstand before making himself comfortable in your desk chair next to your bed, slurping up his noodles with his chopsticks.  You joined him, sitting comfortably on your bed while you blew on your noodles before eating them.

The two of you ate in silence, the sound of your mutual enjoyment of the shared meal filling the room. It was a heavy silence, filled with unspoken words and awkward glances. You watched Dabi as closely as you could without being invasive.  He was showing the telltale signs of pain again – back hunched, a sheen of sweat across his brow, his hand clutching his chopsticks with enough tension to show the tendons in his fingers.  But he hadn’t said anything about it yet.  He was withholding, choosing to share this meal with you instead.  You wondered why.   Was he trying to give you time to adjust to his presence, aware that you were on edge with him? Or was he scared, afraid that if he asked for your help that you’d deny him?  Or maybe he didn’t even want your help; maybe he planned to try to rough it out on his own.

Yeah, you weren’t going to let that be an option.

Despite your curious thoughts, it wasn’t until you finished your mochi and had cleared the empty containers off of your nightstand and back onto your desk, that the silence was finally broken.

“So…” you started. “How are you feeling?”  You knew it was a loaded question.  He knew it, too – you could see it in how his eyes caught yours and darted away again.

“Fine.” He replied.

“Is that why you’re sweating?” You countered.  “Please don’t lie to me, Dabi.  I deserve that much.”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw muscle twitching with tension, before he finally answered. “Everything hurts.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

You weren’t sure if he was being literal or not.  Had your quirk worn off completely?  Or were there still traces of it left, a frayed, tattered rope his only lifeline from falling full force into his withdrawal again? 

You didn’t want to wait and find out.

“Well, let’s take care of that.” You said lightheartedly, even as your heart raced with anxiety.  What if you weren’t ready?  Was your body recharged enough to be up to the task? The pain would be back, you knew that much.  And what if you failed?  

Dabi sat silently for a moment, unmoving, his mind clouded in anger as he stared at you.  He could see the fear in your eyes, plain as day, even as your tone remained casual.  He was angry at your selflessness, angry that he couldn’t say no to you.   Because even though he wanted to deny your help, he knew he couldn’t.  Pain was coursing through his body now, unrelenting, and all he wanted was for it to stop before it tore him apart, stitch by stitch.  You had everything he needed to get him through this. 

He needed you. He needed you, and it grated on him, because he knew he was a burden, even though you would never say so.  You were kind and giving, almost to a fault, and he was a selfish bastard who didn’t have the strength to cut you free and face this alone.

He looked away, defeated. “What do you need me to do?”

“Take off your shirt. I need to change your bandage anyway, and I’m going to use my quirk to numb your scars.”

He did as you said, removing his jacket and draping across the back of your chair.  The shirt followed as he slowly, painfully, pulled it off over his head.

“I won’t be able to do much for the rest of your body… but I’m hoping my drugs will be able to help with that.  The rest will be up to you.” You explained.  Dabi gave a small nod in understanding.

You had him sit on your bed where you could more easily navigate around him.  Numbing his back and changing the bandages was the easy part. It was familiar and it brought back memories of a simpler time.  Had it really only been a few days since you started treating him?  It felt like ages.

There was no conversation as you worked, Dabi in too much pain to say much of anything, and you… well, you were doing your best to hold yourself together.  You’d finished the bandaging, and now you were running your hands along his shoulder blades, your quirk seeping deep into his muscles.  Already, you could feel your senses once again begin to sharpen.  You moved your hands down the scar on his side, numbing what you could reach, the rest of it disappearing beneath his pants.  Your own scar started to itch, and the writhing snake of fear slunk out of its den, hissing a warning

You did your best to push it away.  You weren’t at your limit yet.  You could keep going.  ‘It’s okay. I’ll be okay…’

You adjusted your position until you were sitting in front of him on the plush comforter of your bed. He waited, blue eyes watching you in silence.  You were going to start at his hands and move up his arms like you had done before.  You stared at the staples on his hands, willing yourself to move, to reach out and touch him.

But you couldn’t.  You were frozen as your heart began to pound in your chest like a drum and the memories began to flood back.  The exhaustion, the nightmares, the pain… You were caught in the event horizon of your fear, unable to break free of its hold.

You couldn’t do this. You weren’t ready, you weren’t strong enough. You…

“Hey.”

Dabi’s hand covered yours, and you realized your hand was shaking.  His long fingers curled around your palm gently, and you stared at the connection, focusing on the warmth of his touch.  Your heartrate began to slow, and you watched as your fingers slowly curled around his in response.

“It’s okay.” He said. His tone sounded… tender.

You looked up, your eyes locking with his.  Sea blue stared back at you, open and raw, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze.  You could see it – the concern, the hurt… the anger; a storm of emotions surging beneath the surface of his neutral expression. Guilt gnawed at you and you looked away.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Dabi let go of your hand, and it felt like a great wall had been thrown between the two of you, unscalable.

“It’s fine.” He said, his tone now as neutral as his expression.

“No, it’s not.” You sighed guiltily.  You clasped your hands together, missing his warmth. 

Dabi watched the gesture, longing creeping into his chest like an unwelcome guest.  He clenched his own empty hands into fists and shifted his position until he was half turned from you.  Maybe if he didn’t look at you, all of this would be easier.

Dabi leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor in contempt. “You don’t have to do this.” He said, even as his body screamed for more of your touch, to be freed from the agony he was feeling.

“Yeah I do.” You replied.

Something in Dabi snapped. “Stop it.  Stop being so fucking nice.”

You froze at the harshness of his tone, and you could feel your heart begin to pound again.  You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, your hands covering where he had grabbed you the night before.

“Don’t do that.” You begged. The quiver in your voice made Dabi look at you again, and he was shocked to see your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Don’t be angry.

Dabi stared at you as he recalled what he had said to you last night in his withdrawal-induced rage. Looks like it wasn’t a hallucination after all.  He looked away ashamed, unable to bear the sight of you scared of him.  He took a slow breath and spoke calmly.  “I’m not angry.  I just don’t understand why this is so important to you.”

A long moment of silence passed as he listened to the shuffling sound of you drying your eyes with your hands and take a steady breath.  Each sound drove his guilt deeper and deeper into him like a splinter that would never leave.  He really was a piece of shit.

Your voice broke through his self-loathing, the quiver in it gone.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at you just yet, but he listened.  “If I give up now, then everything we went through would be for nothing.” You explained.  “And I made a promise to myself that I’d never give up.”

“Give up on what?” the words fell from Dabi’s mouth before he could stop them, hope sneaking past his lips without his permission. He regretted it instantly, but even so, he waited, hanging onto the moment, ready to drink in every word.  He wanted to hear it – to hear why you were trying so damn hard to help him.

He nearly jerked in surprise when he felt your hand take his, his eyes returning to watch you.

“Give up on you.” You replied. 

Your eyes glanced up to look at him before bashfully ducking away beneath your lashes.  Dabi felt his chest constrict and suddenly the moment took on a surrealness as a lightheadedness overtook him.  Slowly, gently, you turned his hand until the palm was facing up and began to trace your fingers along his staples.  Immediately he could feel the coolness of your quirk begin to seep into him as his chest pounded with such force that he was sure you could feel it through the veins in his wrist.

“So…” you continued.  “Let me do this.  Please.”

He stared at you, caught in breathlessness, as you returned to numbing his scars along his hand and up his arm.  He had no response as the power of your words washed over him, fulfilling a need in him he had never bothered to pursue. How could he deny you and your gift after something like that?  To do so would be an insult.

Silence blanketed the room, both of you lost in thought as you continued to work.  Your sensitivity gradually increased as you completed one arm and then moved onto the other.  The scar on your back began to transition from an itch to a stinging sensation, and you set your mouth in a thin line.  You needed a distraction.  But before you could open your mouth to start a conversation, Dabi spoke.

“Did I… hurt you?” he asked.

Out of all of the things you expected him to ask, that was definitely not it.  The question shocked you so thoroughly, that your eyes shot up to look at him as your hands stopped in their administrations.  He wasn’t looking at you; instead, his eyes seemed unfocused and in pain.  He seemed slightly worse off than a moment ago, and a sense of urgency began to surge in you.

“What do you mean?” you replied cautiously, as your hands began to move again.  Up the arm, to the shoulder.  The collarbone would be next, then his neck…

“Last night.” He clarified, as his eyes focused and looked at you.  There was still alertness in their depths, and it gave you the slightest bit of relief; you weren’t losing him just yet.

You paused for a moment, pursing your lips.  You needed to tread carefully here.  “What do you remember?”

“Not much.” He admitted. Dabi tilted his chin up slightly to give you easier access to his collarbone as he trained his gaze over your shoulder. “I know I threw up.  A lot.  And I told you to leave, which you didn’t.”

“You’re welcome.” You teased.

“I think I remember you using your quirk on my scars… just like this.”

You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.  “Anything else?” you prodded, as your hands moved along his shoulders.

Dabi narrowed his eyes in annoyance.  He grabbed your wrists in a gentle yet firm grip, halting your touch before it reached his neck.  “You’re avoiding my question.”

You froze, realizing you’d been caught, and you could feel your body flush hot with embarrassment. You eased out of his personal space slightly, and he released his hold on you.

You began to speak, choosing your words wisely.  “You did say some harsh things.  You wanted my pills and you were mad that I wouldn’t give them to you.”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment, watching your body language closely as you once again wrapped your arms around yourself protectively.  There it was – just like before.  “Anything else?” he asked, as he stared at your posture.

You wavered, but his words cut through your hesitation.  “No lying.” He said.  “I deserve that much.”  Just like that, your own words were thrown back at you.  You lowered your arms slowly.

“You… grabbed me.” You answered. You glanced up to check his face and were met with a neutral expression. “You were trying to leave but I got in your way to stop you, and you grabbed my arms to try to move me.”

Dabi’s face was an emotionless mask.  “…anything else?”

“That’s it. You stopped yourself, and I helped you by knocking you out with my quirk.”  You couldn’t bring yourself to say more than that.  If he didn’t remember breaking down into a crying mess in front of you, then you wanted to keep it that way. 

Dabi didn’t know whether to feel relief or shame.  The two emotions warred within himself.  On one hand, he was relieved that he’d caused no serious injury to you and that he hadn’t lashed out purely out of rage, with the intent to hurt.  On the other hand, the fact that he had forcefully grabbed you melded with the mental picture that haunted him of your fear-stricken, tear-stained face. That combined with the nasty words he had yelled at you… it was no wonder you were afraid of him when he first showed up, and especially why you reacted the way you did when he got frustrated earlier.

A wave of pain washed over him and he hunched over, gritting his teeth against it.  It felt like wildfire, washing over every part of him except for those you had touched, leaving an aching chill in its wake.  His head was beginning to pound unbearably, as nausea made his gut roil.  Gradually, the symptoms subsided enough that he could straighten himself back up.  But his head felt slightly foggier than before, the throbbing ache lingering, and he couldn’t get the image of your terrified expression out of his mind.

“Are okay?” you asked, your voice forcing away the image like a gust of wind upon sand.

Dabi looked up at you, grounding himself in your eyes.  The room around him slowly sharpened back into focus.  “I’m fine.”

“Where did it hurt?” you questioned, hoping maybe it was something you could treat.

“Everywhere.”  Immediately he could see the crestfallen expression on your face, and he struggled to correct it.  “Don’t worry about it, I can handle it.  Just… keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Is it helping?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

“Yeah.” Dabi replied.  “It’s helping.”

“No lying?”

“No lying.” 

You returned to where you left off, your hands now on his neck as your delicate touch sent shivers down his spine and goosebumps along his unmarred skin.  Your hands moved from his neck to his jawline, slowly tracing the angle of his jaw to his scarred ears.  His face would be next – his cheeks, his eyes… his mouth.  Your heart began to pound wildly like the running of wild horses, and you could feel yourself start to falter in nervous anticipation.  But as soon as your hands cupped his cheeks, Dabi’s hands covered yours, halting their advance. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, his troubled eyes downcast.

A soft smile formed on your lips.  “You’re forgiven.” You replied.

You returned to cupping his face, palms across his cheeks and thumbs on the scars under his eyes. You let your quirk flow in a gentle trickle, careful not to go too deep.  But you lingered, dulling the ache behind his eyes and beneath his temples. Dabi felt his headache recede slightly, the throbbing now reduced to a dull hum.

Surprise filtered through him as his thoughts came through slightly clearer.  “You didn’t have to do that.” he said.

“I know.” You replied. “But it helps, doesn’t it?”

Dabi didn’t respond.  Instead, he stared at you while he struggled to wrangle his emotions.  He’d come here with the intention of making sure you were okay and getting the treatment he needed, while keeping his feelings in check.  He knew he couldn’t dismantle them completely, but he could try to build a wall against them, muffling their presence under the weight of his darker emotions.  But the longer he stayed here and talked to you, the worse it got.  Any sense of control he thought he had was a joke. His wall was flimsy against your gentle assault, the watchdogs of his soul chained and muzzled.

He hadn’t even intended to apologize a moment ago; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d uttered those words.  He had always viewed apologies as useless, an empty afterthought after the damage was already done. But this time the words had stuck in his throat, threatening to suffocate him if he didn’t release them.  And, as you did with all things, you met those words with compassion and understanding.

Dabi drifted out of his heavy thoughts when he noticed the absence of your touch.  You sat before him, a slight sheen of sweat along your brow and your eyes unfocused.

You were starting to reach your limit, the light in your room too bright, your clothes scratchy on your skin.  The pain in your back was growing ever worse. You could tolerate it, but it definitely hurt now, and you could feel that familiar precipice approaching.  You had managed to tackle every scar on his body except for his legs.  Did you have enough in you to finish the job? You honestly weren’t sure.  You should have gotten more sleep, eaten sooner… maybe then you’d have more in you to give.

Apprehension of a different kind suddenly crashed through your thoughts.  He was wearing pants.  He’d have to remove them to let you treat him. 

He was already sitting in front of you shirtless, and your mouth suddenly felt dry at the idea of another article of clothing missing from him. This was entirely different compared to last night… he was much more cognizant now.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Dabi began to pull his shirt back on, signaling the end of the session.  Even so, you pushed your own inhibition aside.  “Do you need anything else?” you asked.  “What about your legs?”

“It’s fine.” Dabi replied. “You’ve done enough.”

You hoped that he was right. Something crucial nagged at the back of your mind until suddenly, you remembered.  “I still need to give you those meds.  You can start taking them again, now that we’re back on schedule.”

You realized, however, that the pills were still hidden in your closet.  You chewed your lower lip; he obviously couldn’t see where you kept them. You knew better now.

“Um… I’m gonna to need you to step outside for a second, though.”

Dabi raised a curious eyebrow.  “You hid them?”

“I did.”

“Wise move.”  He got up from his spot on your bed and quietly stepped outside your room, closing the door behind him.  You tried to move as quickly as your body would allow.  You reached up to retrieve your duffle bag, your back screaming at the motion as your shirt rubbed against your scar.  Your eyes began to water reactively, but you gritted your teeth and forced them back.

Soon the pills were out of their hiding place, the duffle bag back at the top of your closet, and hopefully Dabi would be none the wiser.  You opened your door to find him leaning against the wall to your left.  He turned to face you, making no motion to enter your space again.  You were grateful… you felt exhausted, your body at its limit, and you didn’t want him to see how much pain you were really in.

You handed him three pills, like before, placing them in his palm.  He stared at them, both hating them and wanting them.  “Thanks.” He said simply.

“Do you… do you want me to stay with you tonight?” you ventured.

Dabi’s eyes shot up to stare at you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight bit of color that returned to his cheeks.  “What?”

“In case you have a rough night again.  Do you want me to stay and make sure you’ll be alright?” even as you asked, you began mentally kicking yourself; what more could you possibly do for him in your current state?  Still, you wanted to extend the offer, even just to let him know that he wasn’t alone if things got too tough.

He stared at you for a moment, mouth slightly open before he composed himself and looked back down at the pills in his hand.  “No.  I’ll be fine.”

You were learning quickly that that phrase in Dabi-speak meant ‘I’m going to suffer horribly but I’ll figure it out on my own.’  You sighed at his stubbornness, but at the same time, deep down, you felt relieved. Maybe tomorrow would be better, once you got some real sleep.

“Okay.” You replied.  “But you know I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.” He replied, as he pocketed the pills.  It was the first time he didn’t take them as soon as you handed them to him.

“Okay.  Well, good night then.”

“Good night.”

____________________________________________________

 Part 8

____________________________________________________

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[some-dr-writings]

Gundham and Kokichi get Hanahaki

Gundham Tanaka:

·       Gundham stared down in disbelief at what he had coughed into his hands. No longer was it flower petals but full, pink, camellia blossoms… longing. His loyal generals scurried about in panic. “Hmm, so the curse you sensed on me. Is this it? … not just Hanahaki but these blossoms... their meaning…” He wanted to keep denying it like he had been for the past month but no longer could he.

·       He had heard of Hanahaki before, but he thought it was but a rumor. He knew of the only three cures, death, a surgery that removes that wretched plant at the price of the feelings it bloomed from, or confessing… He bitterly chuckled which swiftly morphed into that booming laughter. “So the world now seeks to end me by any means necessary. Whether it be by my body, or my spirit…” Clenching his fist he crushed those soft pink petals. “Fine! Let it try, for all those efforts will be in vain. I’ll carry on these emotions and live! I shall not sacrifice my life in this world nor lose my spirit in doing so.” Immediately after that hacking started up again as he felt that irritable scratching crawl through his throat and lunges. Concerned, his generals cuddled up to him, wanting to help him in some way.

·       As he was lacing up his boots that winter morning, he heard a knock, knock, knocking from his door. “I’ll be but a moment my Emperor!” He called out, hopping on one foot towards the door, making that last knot. Swinging the door open he was happily greeted by your pale smile. “Running a little late I see.” “My apologies should I have kept you waiting for long.” “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just used to you being ready before me. Like, seriously, how do you get all that makeup done every day and be ready before me?” He smirked seeing your genuine curiosity. “Ibuki helps Gundham get ready on date day!” “Ibuki!” The girl merrily slipped past you and Gundham. “He always goes on and on about ‘not keeping his beloved waiting’ how ‘on the days of courting rituals he must be as presentable as possible as to-” “ENOUGH IBUKI!” His face was absolutely flushed as he began to chase after her. She dashed away wishing he and you well. “I-ignore those words. They were but nothing!” You had your arms crossed, a sharp smirk creasing your lips. “Suuuuuuuure. Absolutely nothing. Heh.” “E-enough! We must get our ritual started.” Still chuckling you took his bandaged hand and lead the way. How was it that even thinking of your laugh send his heart a flight.

·       He strolled down that path, getting absorbed in the light sound of his footfalls against the stone. It was a particularly hot and muggy day, not helped by there not being a single cloud in the sky, allowing the sun’s harsh rays to beam down in it’s full glory. Sighing, he loosened the scarf around his neck. Holding up his hand to shade his eyes just a bit from those rays, his gaze lingered on the dull red and black bandana tied around his wrist.

·       “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to wander around like this?” “I’m fine! Don’t worry so much! I got permission from the doctors and everything!” You trotted on ahead down the trail, spinning around loving the fresh air. You had been cooped up there for far too long under observation. It was good to see you out and so lively at that. All too quickly you got winded and started to collapse. Gundham dashed to you, cradling you against his chest. “My Emperor don’t be so demanding on your body right away. You’ve yet to be released fully. This is but a day to get fresh air.” “I know, but… I want to enjoy being out… even if it hurts a little. But I won’t do anything stupid!” Snow gently fluttered down and Gundham pulled you closer. “All I ask is you be careful.”

·       Sitting under a lone tree he felt that awful sweltering heat suffocating him. He felt his heart beating just a little faster than usual. He looked out to the lake, the blue sky reflected on it’s surface. Mindlessly he fiddled with the ends of that bandana.

·       “… Gundham.” “Yes?” “What do you think it means to survive?” He looked to you, raising a brow at the question. He was intrigued why you’d ask such a thing, but his own questions could be saved for later. He looked out to the horizon to ponder, though an answer had already sprung to mind. “To survive is to do anything and everything in your power to stay in this realm. To survive in some cases may even mean to allow your own life to extinguish so the majority may live on and prosper even in your absence.” “… Is there a difference between surviving and living?” “Surviving and living you say… Hmm.” He shivered as the cold wind rolled past. “… Living is making the most of each moment you have. Even if it’s something small like being awake in a dream or merely being near a cherished one. Living is appreciating the moment.” “So… can you live and survive?” “… That depends on the circumstances.” “If you had to choose one, which would it be.” “Me?... I’d choose survival.” “I thought so.” “And you?” “… Don’t know. I… I think it depends on the circumstances.”

·       Survival…

·       Placing a hand on his propped-up knee, he tried pushing himself onto his feet. Even merely standing up caught his breath in his throat, those accursed blooms clogging his windpipe. He desperately tried repressing those blooms, keeping it all in, even covering his mouth with his hands. He couldn’t let them out. Not just yet.

·       “Hey, there’s a street market! Let’s go check it out.” As the two of you entered you were immediately hit by the wafting sent of fried food and incense. Hand in hand the two of you wandered from stall to stall, admiring the unique items. In one such stall as Gundham was looking at some plain furin bells you approached him. “Hey, I got you something!” “Oh? What sort of charm have you procured?” “Hold up your not bandaged hand.” Obediently he did as told. “I thought this’d look good on you!” You then tied the bright red and black bandana around his wrist. “Hmm, you have a good eye. I can already feel the power you transferred into it, radiating brilliantly!”

·       Sitting at one of the stalls Gundham ate a tin box of jam and powdered sugar covered aebleskivers with a small paper bag of newly bought items. He watched as the thinning crowd almost dissipated entirely as the midday heat made being outside too unbearable. He watched as the wind rustled the leaves of the trees. Unable to take it anymore he took off his scarf and instead tied it around his waist. He reached for his wrist, flinching, feeling the fabric. He felt that cough seemingly puncture his throat.

·       As he walked, he slowly came to a stop. For a moment, he looked to the hospital that stood just across the street. He continued to walk. Down the street, down the sidewalk, up the hill, across the road, past the temple and into the large, lush green forest. The wind seemed to howl the deeper he went. The cool air and shade complimented the calm of the forest. His eyes wandered from the treetops to the moss-covered stone walls. Off in the distance he heard, assumedly a monk, playing a tibetan bowl. The stone pathway was neatly cleaned, hardly even any dirt on it, clearly well cared for. Down the stone stairs he had but needed to take a left to arrive at his destination. As he offered incense, he couldn’t keep it in anymore coughing and hacking up pink, bloodied camellia blossoms between raspy gasps for air.

·       Shaking he fell to his knees before the snow-covered stone.

·       He clutched a hand on his chest that prickling pain seemingly wanting to burst through and break his rib-cage. He managed to force himself up, ladle out water on the grave from a wooden tub.

·       His eyes blurred only seeing a haze of gray and white when he poured the water.

·       He placed a hand on the grave.

·       He…

·       “It’s not winter, but summer.” Looking to the dates he sighed, only for that coughing to start up again. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands flat together in prayer. “It’s been a year and a half since you’ve passed on my Emperor.” His scratchy voice began to crack. “I… I’ve come to you today to apologize. I wish to live, but more so to survive. I can no longer confess my love for you, for your everything over and over as I once had done when you were beside me in this world. Even if I continue to do so in my dreams this curse won’t leave me be… so… it seems…” His breath trembled just as his body did, tears streaking down his cheeks. “My… my Y/N… I thank you, for spending your time with me when you were here. I… I love you so much, even now that you’re gone and can no longer love me back, I love you… And… goodbye… for… forev-…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that last word. Hiccups, raw sobbing, gasps, and coughing got in the way.

·       On unsteady feet he dragged himself away. He couldn’t be late.

·       As snow drifted down past the window, entering the room he saw how longingly you looked to him. “Gundham… I… don’t worry about me, please.” “How dare you say that! I always shall!” “No, Gundham. Look at me. I’m withering away here. All this stuff is just prolonging the inevitable. No cure is just going to suddenly appear! It’ll be at least ten if not more years before there’s even anything close to a cure. I don’t want to just sit here and wait to die!” “… W-what are you saying?” He clutched you hand tightly, interlacing your fingers. “I was told that I can give my body to research, but… I… won’t be here…” His eyes widened, staring at you in abject horror. “no. NO! Y/N YOU CAN’T! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” Tears cascaded from his eyes as he hugged you. “Y/N I… You… please…” He sobbed even harder feeling you hug him back, hearing your own cries. “I… I understand why, but… my Emperor, Y/N…”

·       Taking a deep breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes before entering the hospital. That oppressive summer heat seemingly choking him.

·       The surgery was successful with no complications, so he was able to leave right away. After collecting his belonging, he swiftly left, wanting to make sure his creatures were properly cared for in his absence.

·       Without a second thought he tossed his bag of items onto his bed to be placed away later. He needed to care for his creatures.

·       It was late into the night when he finally got the chance to put the bag of items away. His zodiac generals scurried up to him, bucking the bag and nuzzling into him.

·       The last item he had taken out was a worn out red and black bandana…

·       He hated this.

·       This was ridiculous. His vision blurred, and he hurt. He hurt knowing looking at the cloth no longer hurt him so deeply. It meant nothing to him now… that’s why it hurt so much… because he still knew it used to mean something to him… but not anymore.

   Kokichi Oma:

·       The moment he felt that tingling in his throat and he coughed up petals Kokichi already knew what had befallen him.

·       Hanahaki.

·       This… was a very cruel thing to pull on him, especially considering his situation. He thought it stupid that the universe or his own body or whatever made Hanahaki happen decided to set this into motion. He was content, even happy with the way things were and he didn’t care that you didn’t love him, as long as you were happy, he was fine. So, though he was fine with this, something he thought most people would not be, whatever made this happen forced him into the position of dying or getting rid of his feelings all together!? Those were the only options, he never even considered confessing to you. At heart, Kokichi was a clown, all he wanted was joy and laughter, confessing would only hurt you, so it was not an option to him.

·       Immediately he set to researching what accursed plant was entangling and clogging up his lungs and throat.

·       Scilla meaning loyalty and constancy… Truly the irony was palpable with this flower choice.

·       Sighing he flopped onto his bed, letting the sketchpad, papers, crayons, and colored pencils momentarily hopped up. “So… what am I to do now… Die, or throw away my feelings?” He stared up at the ceiling before gleefully hopping off of his bed. “I’ll make a game out of this!”

·       Having bought his bouquet, he skipped out of the flower shop. He mindlessly hummed to himself plucking the petals of one of the flowers. Then the next. Then the next. And the next, and so on. That was till he was down to the last flower. “… Die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live… I guess I’ll live. Maybe. No I will!” Dumping the stems and wrapping in a garbage can, Kokichi smiled, reminding himself that when lying to anyone you must be confident! No room for doubt.

·       Well, if he were going to live, he was going to have to get the surgery, to entirely remove his feelings for you… You were his best friend. He was not sure if his friendship with you was entirely removed from his more romantic feelings for you. If he were to remove his feelings, would you two still be best friends, or friends at all? You were very observant, it was one of the many things he loved about you, because of that, you’d likely notice he was acting differently. Maybe your friendship would end up breaking apart… He might end up hurting you because of that. he couldn’t bear that thought. So… by removing his feelings he decided to end your friendship while he still loved you. He wouldn’t actually end the friendship though, just make some excuse as to why he would be far away for the rest of his life and how you and he could only have very minimal contact. Yeah, something like that. You wouldn’t get hurt that way, the worst of it would be missing him, but nothing more.

·       Now that he had finally come to a decision, he had some planning to do!

·       He gathered all of D.I.C.E. at their headquarters in order to plan this out. He needed this to be perfect. They spent hours and hours on end planning, only taking short tea breaks for rest.

·       Kokichi was surprised at how quickly his condition had worsened in only a week. What had been single petals had already evolved into closed blossoms. He needed to hurry.

·       He had boiled down everything to two plans.

·       Plan A. Make you hate him so you wouldn’t care about him. There were… several problems with this plan. Even the mere thought of actively hurting you, to the point of getting you to loath and detest him, to not caring he no longer was your friend… He’d have to hurt you, but at least if you weren’t friends, you’d never miss him… But he was a clown. Even the mere though of this plan sent him into an awful wheezing, coughing fit. Tears would percolate in the corners of his eyes from all of the pain. He knew he’d act on instinct and rush to your side and make a fool of himself. He’d do anything to make you laugh and smile…

·       To hear that beautiful bubbly laugh that sent his heart a flight with fantasies of always being by your side, of no matter come what may, being there to make you happy after you indulged in the pain accepting whatever happened.

·       … He could never hurt you.

·       So all he could do was go for the other plan.

·       Plan B. Make a giant show for you. Endless pranks for an entire day and by the end tell you he was moving very far away, maybe to Prague or something he still hadn’t decided where he was going yet, and tell you all these pranks were to make up for all the lost future time together. You’d likely hurt from missing him, but it wouldn’t be anything major…

·       Maybe even after a while you’d forget about him. Then you wouldn’t care at all. You wouldn’t get hurt… Maybe… Maybe that would be for the best. Even if it made him feel sick, terrified even… maybe it would be what was best for you.

·       He just wanted you to be happy. He was determined to conceal you in a kind happy lie, surely it was better than a painful truth.

·       Reading over his plans his vision began to blur. That awful scratching pain clawed up his throat, erupting into that hacking and coughing. He shut his eyes, clutching a hand to his chest. Keeling over he gasped for breath. This was certainly the worst fit by far. Slowly opening his eyes his vision cleared. There were the full blue blossoms, red dripping from them and dyeing the pages beneath. “Already? I thought I had more time…” he then noticed which page got covered in red. Plan A. “Heh, plan B it is. Guess I’ll have to put this plan into action tomorrow.”

·       All through the night he made calls and plans with D.I.C.E. to have everything prepared for endless pranks. He needed this goodbye to be perfect. It was the last time you’d be seeing one another after all, and he wanted his last memory of you to be happy, smiling, and laughing. As long as you were happy, he’d be okay, no matter what.

·       Till the early morning hours, he and D.I.C.E. was running about preparing pranks in any and all locations you frequented and could possibly even go to, even if it meant breaking into your bank and some other places. It was no big deal, it was for very good reason after all, the best goodbye ever!

·       As he and two other D.I.C.E. members were trying to break into a rather stubborn vending machine, he got a call from another member saying you had left your place, awfully smiley in the way you only were when Kokichi pranked you. “Yes! Keep an eye on them! We need to know where they’re going!”

·       Dashing after you, he managed to catch up rather quickly. You were sitting at a park bench. He was about to run up and tackle you when he suddenly stopped himself and instead hid in a tree. You promptly stood up, running to your partner, hugging them… He desperately tried repressing that coughing. It hurt. It hurt so much. Just everything. The one thing that made you even happier than being surprised by Kokichi’s mischief or seeing him playing the fool or him telling you an off-hand joke was your partner. Your partner was the light of your life, what Kokichi wished he was. You were always so undeniably happy with them, you didn’t want anyone else.

·       … This was fine, this just meant he’d get to see more of your smiles on this last day together. He just had to pull back on the pranks as to not be overbearing and annoy you and your partner.

·       Kokichi’s plan had now changed slightly. There were still pranks through the whole day but now he and D.I.C.E. decided to help out the date.

·       When things were getting dull they’d add in a prank. When things were getting romantic, they start playing a beautiful song adding to the mood. They’d separate you from crowds so you could more easily steal a kiss. They’d dim the lights around you and place spot lights on you. They made sure you always had something fun to do. And with each time they intervened you’d catch a glimpse of Kokichi somewhere smiling that toothy grin, giving you a thumbs up. Little did you know that the moment your gaze shifted back to your partner, when they were the center of our world, capturing all of your attention Kokichi hid away, the pain of those cuts slicing deeper and deeper into his heart, lungs and throat came bursting out of his mouth as bloodied flowers, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his chest. Yet moments later even with the red staining his lips and petals clinging to his chin he smiled, knowing he was helping to make this day great. After all, he was a clown. Clowns make others happy at their own expense, even if it hurt them. As long as others were happy, if you were happy, he was happy too. Perhaps, that was the one solid truth he had never lied about in any capacity to others or himself. One could lie just about anything, but that was the one undeniable truth that could never be obscured no matter how he tried, even if he wanted too.

·       And thus, the day went on, joyously, as it should have. Till you heard it. From his hiding spot under the bridge where he and D.I.C.E. set off fireworks for you, you heard that horrendous hacking. Kokichi crumpling over clamped his hands over his mouth. Just a little longer he had to keep it all in. But… he couldn’t breathe, no matter how he gasped, he couldn’t get anything. His vision was darkening and blurring. Everything was suddenly so cold. Even his hearing was muffled as if he were underwater. “Kokichi!” Suddenly he was in your arms, cuddled against you… You were crying. You… you had said something else but he could only clearly hear his name, everything else was a blur, like how only you were clear and everything was a haze. “s-sorry… I… want to… to leave you with… a smile… n-not this.” This was the first and only time he truly broke down before anyone, not trying to hide or obscure anything at all. All the pain and heart break was etched into his every feature. You screamed something… he thought… it was hard to even think.

·       … Even in the end he was a liar. He had to lie to himself to do this. He was a clown, it was in his nature to only make you smile, but… this was his only choice. He was loyal to himself and you alone. He would never throw away his feelings for you. It was simply not even an option he truly considered, even if he lied to himself saying he would. “hey… it’s… okay… you shou… laugh… i… want you too… it’s what I do… you’re alright… live happily… that’s… all I ask… and… that’s…… not…… a……… lie”

[reyesstrand]

let your heart be light

tarlos & firefam dynamics / teen+ / 2.6k

To be fair, TK wasn’t sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it’s enough.

@911giftexchange for @teaamfreewill — i hope you enjoy this AJ, and have a happy holiday season!!! 💗

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3!!

“It just doesn’t feel right without snow.”

Paul looks at him with that ever-present, all-knowing look in his eyes, before letting out a sigh and nodding. “You’re telling me, New York.”

“Like,” TK starts, fully aware that he’s gravitating into rambling status at this point, but he can never stop himself. He rests a foot on the bottom rung of the shopping cart, leaning his weight against the handle as Paul analyzes the nutritional facts on two different brands of steel-cut oats. “It doesn’t feel like the holidays without at least one storm that makes you question your existence.”

Humming in agreement, Paul puts one package back on the shelf and tosses the other in the cart, before hesitating and grabbing a few more of the pale-blue bags before they're good to move on to produce. When there's a comfortable lull in conversation, both of them crossing items off the list his dad's very carefully crafted for the bi-weekly shopping trips, TK lets his mind drift to holidays past.

His parents wanted him to grow up with both the tradition of celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas, but as he grew older, Decembers tended to blur into every other month. He'd always call his mom if he was working late, smiling down at photos she'd send him of her attempts to perfect her grandmother's recipe for sufganiyot, always making his stomach rumble. And, even if she was out of the city at the time, she'd always send him a box of homemade pastries and a card with a lengthy message inscribed inside that'd make him feel warmed from the inside out. And his dad would always make him at least come for a dinner on the twenty-fifth, even if dinner was just takeout eaten straight out of the cartons while they watched the Christmas parade he always recorded.

They were simple traditions, but they were theirs.

In Austin, TK's slowly getting used to calling it home. The snow thing had been the first to strike him, because while he's seen his fair share of strange Texan weather, not waking up to white covering every surface and bitter cold nipping at his skin has been throwing him for a loop. 

"Earth to TK," Paul says, tossing him a bell pepper. TK catches it, rolling his eyes playfully at his friend. "We should start figuring out a place and time for the Not-Christmas dinner."

"Carlos offered his place," TK says, without thinking. Paul just grins at him. 

"That seems to be going well, huh?" Paul asks, hip-checking TK as they walk side-by-side to the checkout. TK feels his face go warm, though he busies himself with adjusting the rolled sleeves of his black t-shirt, printed with the 126 crest over his heart. Paul just musses up his hair before ducking out of grasp for retaliation, sidling up to the cashier and offering his big smile at her while she begins to ring them up. "I'm happy for you, kid. We all are." 

TK does smile at that, because it's the one shining light in all of this. He hadn't been sure what a holiday season with a new boyfriend would be like, especially when every single one of his friends were also friends with said boyfriend, but they've all been relatively tame. No shoving them under the mistletoe yet, which TK guesses is only a matter of time. 

"Anyway," Paul says, and TK sticks his hands into his pockets, suddenly glad Marjan isn't here to poke at his pink cheeks. 

"Anyway," TK agrees. "Carlos did offer to let us use his place, though. He suggested the twenty-second, so that way people could still go see their families." 

"The twenty-second it is," Paul smiles, already typing the date into their group chat, followed by five question marks. Because Carlos thought ahead for these things, TK knows they're all already going to be on one of their twenty-four-hour off periods; Carlos works that morning but will be home by noon, and as long as TK has detailed instructions, he won't have a problem starting the food early. 

A small knot forms deep in TK's chest, even though he knows there's still two weeks before the proposed group dinner. He just thanks the cashier after paying with the credit card his dad gave him before they left the station an hour ago, and they head back out into the sunny, barely-cool, snowless, December afternoon. 

***

TK's just hanging up with his mom, absently kicking at a rock in the lot just outside the bay doors, when he feels someone creep up behind him. 

He doesn't even blink, though, because he smells sandalwood and tangy citrus and is smiling before he feels familiar arms settle around him. He tells his mom I love you, too, and stuffs his phone in his pocket and leans back into Carlos' touch, for half a moment, before turning in his arms and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Did you know you're impossible to shop for?" 

TK grins, and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Carlos' mouth before pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "What a welcoming statement after not seeing each other for twenty-seven hours." 

Carlos rolls his eyes affectionately, and tightens his hold around TK's middle. "I missed you, Ty." 

"I missed you too," TK grins, cupping Carlos' face between his palms and finally closing the distance between them properly. "But I do take offence to that. I'm perfect in every way." 

Carlos huffs a laugh against his mouth and presses in for one more kiss, before scraping his blunt nails against the fine hairs at TK's nape. "Believe me, I know, sweetheart." 

He feels a pleasant ripple shoot through him, and TK's struck again by the fact that he gets to have this. He's close enough to see the flecks of gold in Carlos' warm brown eyes, and he wonders how it's only been three months because he feels like he's known him forever. He thinks of decorating with Marjan today and the sudden pang of homesickness that he couldn't quite explain. 

"You okay?" Carlos asks, because he can read even the most microscopic of his expressions like the back of his own hand. TK covers it up with a smile. 

"Yeah, of course," TK brushes his thumb along Carlos' jaw, before standing back, dragging his hand down the length of Carlos' arm so he could grab his hand and tangle their fingers together. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner." 

"My prince," Carlos plays along, hand over his heart, but there's still a look in his eyes. He runs his thumb over the backs of TK's knuckles, and when TK squeezes his hand tighter, he gets a small smile in return. 

***

They'd realized sometime between Thanksgiving and the first of December that they'd have to celebrate as a team, this year. 

The non-denominational, coined-by-Mateo "Not-Christmas Dinner" idea was agreed upon pretty quickly, and TK is beyond excited to start creating new traditions with his family. But he's struggling, is the thing. He wouldn't ever mention it to anyone because he hates stressing them out, and though he has no urge to do anything stupid because for the first time in a while he's happy—like, really fucking happy—he can't help but to feel like everything has to be perfect. 

It boils down to this: he misses his mom like crazy, even though she stayed with him and his dad for a couple weeks back in September when he was still healing. He's finally getting back on track with his dad, after long nights of hashing things out about his childhood. And he and Alex never did much for the holidays save for giving each other a couple gifts because they could never work out how to spend an equal amount of time with both of their families—which, in hindsight, is yet another element of the two and a half years TK lost to the man he thought was his soulmate—but now with Carlos he just wants things to be special. They already have plans to visit Carlos' mom and sisters on Christmas Eve, and Owen had lovingly coerced Carlos into a Strand family dinner on Christmas Day. 

It just feels like a lot. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Marjan asks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she strolls into Carlos' kitchen. The twenty-second kind of crept up on TK, and now he's here, attempting to hold down the fort while Carlos makes a last-minute trip to the store. His kitchen's a homey space, and, like the rest of his boyfriend's place, it's tastefully decorated with garland and candles and little angel statues that have been passed down through his family. There's a photo of the two of them on Carlos' fridge, pressed together at a pumpkin patch they'd spent a date night at back in October, and TK gets a little lost in the memory. Marjan has to nudge him a little harder to get him to snap back into it. "TK?" 

"Oh, hey," TK smiles at her, and goes back to making sure that the green beans don't stick to the bottom of the pan. She claims a burner of her own to keep her tagine warm, leaning back against the counter with her arms folded over her chest. 

"You're spacing out a bit," Marjan says, and when TK keeps his eyes trained on the vegetables he swore he could handle, she just makes a small noise and places a hand on his shoulder. "You've been a little quiet lately."

There's a pause, where neither of them say anything, before Marjan drops her voice a little and adds:

"Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?" 

"I'm just—" TK shakes his head and bites at the inside of his cheek, turning down the heat to try and kill more time.

He doesn't know how to tell her—and the rest of them—that he's both so thankful for this family he's found and so, so terrified of messing it all up. Thankfully, he doesn't have to; there's a knock at the door and Marjan offers to get it, leaving TK alone with a soft smile. He sighs, and closes his eyes for a long moment. 

***

After food has been served, and gifts have been exchanged, they all sit around Carlos' living room. The conversations overlap like they always do, and TK sits comfortably under the glow of the light from the tree and the warmth of Carlos' arm thrown over his shoulder. He's slowly picking at a piece of Grace's pecan pie, and he knows he should just let himself get lost in the moment, but he can't. He taps his foot at a staccato beat against the floor, and even when Carlos throws him a questioning look and settles his hand on TK's knee, he doesn't stop. 

He finally excuses himself ten minutes later. 

Carlos' place has a nice little backyard area, where they've all gathered for parties and after-work hangouts countless times. It's a little chilly as the sun's gone down, and TK sighs out loud and sees his breath puff out in front of him. He smiles just a little, and kicks his foot against the porch, dropping down onto the steps. 

He's expecting Carlos to come after him; or maybe Marjan, or his dad. Instead it's Grace who settles down next to him, a hand splayed over her four-month pregnant belly. 

"Honey," she starts, and TK ducks his head. His eyes burn, and he roughly sniffs. "TK. You don't have to hide whatever you're thinking from us." 

He takes a deep breath, and scrubs a hand down his face. And then he says: "I don't want to bring down your mood." 

Grace gives him one of her warm smiles. "TK, every day I'm reminded why you and my husband get along so well." 

TK rolls his eyes and gently nudges her arm with his shoulder. 

"Now tell me what's wrong," Grace says, and TK rubs the back of his neck before he starts talking. 

He tells her everything. About how the holidays usually meant bickering with Alex. How it meant celebrating with both of his parents, sure, but also dealing with awkward dinners with their new significant others. About how he hasn't felt this good since he was a kid and he doesn't want to fuck it up. 

"You could never fuck it up," Grace tells him, squeezing his hand that she's been holding between both of hers. TK meets her eyes and finds nothing but sincerity, nothing but the warmth and reassurance that always seems to be there. "Never. And know that all of us in there don't care about perfect as long as we have you, as long as we're all together. Now, I'm going to send that beautiful man of yours out here so you can talk to him, because he's been worried." 

At that exact moment, they hear the telltale creak of the door opening; both of them glance over their shoulders and spot Carlos. 

He moves to leave, lifting a hand in apology. "Sorry to interrupt—" 

"I was just leaving," Grace says, getting to her feet and squeezing TK's shoulder for a brief moment. When she disappears back into the house, Carlos takes her spot, and wordlessly presses a lingering kiss to TK's temple. 

"Ty," Carlos starts, and TK stops him in his tracks with a kiss. 

"I'm sorry for being distant, lately," TK murmurs half against his lips, because even though he knows that Carlos has seen him pretty close to his worst he hates the thought of pulling him down; of making him unhappy. "I'm just—it's been so long since I've had this. And I've never had someone like you. I was so worried about not messing things up that I got in my head." 

"Hey," Carlos whispers, getting TK to look him in the eye. "Please don't apologize, okay? We're all healthy, and here together—that's what matters, right? That I get to have you by my side through it all?"

Could you blame TK for surging forward to kiss him again? 

When they part, TK whispers: "Thank you." 

"What for?" Carlos asks, eyes glinting with confusion. 

"For being you," TK says, knowing how it sounds. 

Carlos shakes his head, moving to lace their fingers together. 

They move in unison to press their foreheads together, and TK whispers, "I love you so much. I just needed you to know that." 

"Of course I do," Carlos says, smiling into it when he kisses TK before speaking again. "I love you too. And I don't want you to feel like you have to—to hide what you're feeling." 

TK just lets himself have what he wants, what he needs in the moment, and it's this: Carlos' mouth against his, again and again. 

***

They re-enter the party ten minutes later, and all eyes are on them when they slip into the living room. 

TK opens his mouth to make some big declaration, but Marjan catches his eye, and then Paul. Then it's his dad who dramatically clears his throat and points above the two of them. 

Because, of course, there's mistletoe fastened to the doorway above them. 

"I hate you all," TK mutters, to which Judd yells lies! and Paul yells something about getting on with it. So, TK does; he presses his palms to either side of Carlos' face and grins at him before closing the distance between them. There's a whoop from someone for effect, and then when they pull apart Marjan pulls him down next to her on the loveseat so he can be thrown into a conversation about fighting mall elves they'd had to deal with during a call yesterday. 

Looking around the room, he realizes he had nothing to worry about at all. And, to be fair, TK wasn't sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it's enough. 

[captainseaweedbrains]

Promises

Katniss made a promise she couldn’t keep.

1930s Everlark in an orphanage. Angst

Trigger: Abuse

Ao3: x

The sun is beating down on my sunburned face when I spot the familiar black Cadillac sitting in the driveway. I stand there for a moment, my basket of gardening tools clutched in my hands, as I stare at the car. I know this car. It’s the same one Prim and I rode in coming to this horrid place.

 “Mr. Heavensbee?” I question aloud, walking toward the driveway in a daze. What is he doing here? Is it for business?

“Katniss!” Sister Effie shrills, breaking my trance. My head snaps in the nun’s direction and she points to the rose garden where I’m supposed to be helping with pruning. I sigh, looking back at the car once more, before trudging back to the garden where the rest of my group works diligently. We were promised a special treat if Father Snow approves of our work and it wasn’t often we were rewarded, so we all took our tasks more seriously today.

My knees groan in protest as I sink to the ground to inspect the lower branches for anything dead. Days like today were my least favorite to work in, where the sun is merciless and the heat doesn’t let up for a second. Gardening the extensive gardens at St. Thomas’ makes me feel forty times older than my thirteen-year-old self ought to feel.

I’m cutting away dead branches when a hand caresses my back. I jump, squeaking at the touch, and turn to see a grinning Peeta standing next to me with the basket of branches we’ve been collecting for burning. My eyes squint as I look up at him and smile back.

 “Care to help the needy?” he jokes in a creaky ol’ beggar’s voice, shaking the basket with a hunched back. “You, miss,” he acknowledges me, “please help the needy, or rot in Hell for all your sins!”

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter, glancing over to see if Sister Effie had heard, but she sits, unfazed, under an umbrella she’d set up earlier this morning to supervise us, fanning herself, and I hand him my branches.

“That’s quite the punishment,” I play along. “Going to Hell for not giving you my branches.”

“Oh, God watches all, wretched child,” he continues in the voice, and we both duck behind the rose bushes to cover up our laughter before someone sees.

“You’re so lucky you get to go inside,” I whisper once we’ve calmed down. “I’m going to have a burnt head for weeks.”

“Hardly,” Peeta scoffs, popping his head up and deciding to take a break while I continue pruning. “Coin is there each time I go into the shed, inspecting everything I dump into the pile. It’s annoying.”

I nod, imagining the coolly composed woman standing watch as Peeta and the other select boys brought in their baskets of branches and dead leaves, closely inspecting each branch with the same critical cruelty she holds when inspecting our daily chores. “She’s like God, only worse!”

“Don’t ever compare that woman to God, Katniss. It’s insulting.”

I continue pruning the dead roses, their snow white petals wilting as I work while Peeta fans himself with his hand, complaining how it’s not fair that the boys are forced to wear pants in the humid summers while the girls got to wear dresses. I point out how I’m always cold in the winter time, but that doesn’t stop him from complaining over how unfair it is. We get into a tiny spat before Sister Effie starts to voice how our piles are gathering up. “Peeta? Has anyone seen Peeta?”

“Duty calls. I’ll see you in the kitchens,” he hisses before grabbing his basket and running to the next row over.    

Carefully, so he won’t see me, I pop my head out and watch him run over to Annie Cresta’s pile. Peeta could complain all he wanted about the boys’ uniform, but I, well I kind of liked them. I liked how snug his shirt was against his broadening shoulders and the way the short sleeves seemed to bring out the small muscles he was gaining from working in the kitchens for so many years. His animated smile that I see in every dream he stars in is on his face, laughing at a joke Annie must have told him, and the small butterflies I’ve been feeling for weeks now flutter again. I know it’s a sin to be looking at him when I’m supposed to be working on my chores, but God won’t mind my looking for another second, right?

A blood curdling scream howls from the house, breaking my focus, and we all pop our heads up in its direction, wondering who Coin’s latest victim is this time. Screaming only worsens your punishment, so I have to give the victim credit for taking a chance, especially if the car does belong to Mr. Heavensbee, and that’s when it hits me.

The last time I heard that scream I was seven years old at the Hawthornes’, trying to help my mother drag a screaming Prim to the car, screaming how she didn’t want to leave Rory, the second-oldest Hawthorne son who was the same age as her. Prim didn’t have many friends at home since we lived with my dad’s parents in an older neighborhood than the Hawthornes, and Rory and Prim had clicked instantaneously. She begged and begged for Mama to leave her there, screaming when she was told no, and I remember pinching my ears closed, trying to block out the piercing sound. Wishing she would stop.

Before registering why she could be screaming, I bolt from the rose garden, ignoring Sister Effie's threats, and run through the back door, trying to target where the screaming is coming from.

What did Prim do to get Coin’s attention? Didn’t I always tell her to blend in? That standing out was a bad thing here?

The screaming sounds like it’s coming from the foyer, an area we are forbidden from entering unless scrubbing the floors and dusting furniture. Prim must have been curious about something and gone in there. I run toward the sound, sweat burning my eyes, and there at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the door frame for dear life, is my sister. Mr. Heavensbee is pulling at her to follow him, insisting they’re going to be late for their train. Prim continues to scream, telling him she doesn’t want to leave.

“I want to stay! Please let me stay!”

“Now, now,” Mr. Heavensbee consoles impatiently, “Child, we’re going to be late, and your new family is waiting. Remember how much you liked them?”

Her screaming continues and I have to shout over it, hoping she hears me.

“Prim?” my voice cracks. “Prim!” I race down the stairs, almost tripping on my own feet. Did he say she’s leaving? A new family? But what about me; didn’t he promise we’d stay together? 

She looks up, her eyes puffy with tears, and yanks free of Mr. Heavensbee, running into my open arms. I run my hand down her sweaty hair, shh-ing and telling her everything is going to be alright.

“I don’t want to leave,” she cries into my dress, clinging onto me so tightly I fear she may break a rib.

“Who says anything about leaving?” Looking up at the large man, I ask what’s the meaning of this.

He opens his mouth, stuttering out a response, when a cold voice sharply replies: “That is not how a child speaks to an adult.”

My arms stiffen around Prim’s body as I look over my shoulder at Madame Coin standing on the bottom step, her bony hand clutching a small bag I recognize as Prim’s belongings.

No... No! She can’t!

“You’re sending Prim away?” I pray this isn’t true, that God is playing a cruel prank on me.

“Primrose has the opportunity for a better life,” Coin sniffs.

“She’s my sister!” I turn to Mr. Heavensbee. “You promised we’d stay together! You promised!” Tears of betrayal start to fall as I cling to my little sister. “You told me you’d make sure we’d stay together!”

He nervously traced the bushy mustache and glanced at his watch again. “Things change,” he tells me. “You can never tell in this profession.”

“But you promised!”

A sharp tug of my braids breaks my grip on Prim; Coin’s arm holding me in her clutches as Heavensbee captures Prim. I fight with all my might, knowing the consequences of acting out like this will be severe, but he promised! I promised! We would stay together after Mama and Papa passed.

“It’s been a pleasure having you under God’s house,” Madame Coin states with false sincerity. “May you find grace under your new roof, Primrose Williamson.”

I can barely see I’m crying so hard as the realization that my sister is leaving forever hits me. I’ll probably never see her again. “Prim! Prim!” I break out of the witch’s grasp and run outside to the car, begging Mr. Heavensbee to take me, too. “I’ll cook, clean,” I beg. “I’ll do anything to stay with Prim, Mr. Heavensbee. Just—please, let me go with you.”

He peels my hands off his suit, pushing me into the grass, and gets into his car. I watch in a teary blur as my sweet little sister drives farther and farther away until finally, the car is completely out of sight. My heart cracks to pieces. My body numb. The world spins and breaks all at once.

My eyes break away from the driveway and target the group of children peeping out by the side of the house, even a few curious nuns joining them. I try to compose myself, to brace myself for the inevitable punishment that is waiting for me inside, but all I can do is gasp for air, curling my arms around my legs. My little Prim is gone. She’s going to a new family. Without me. I truly am alone now.

“What do you think you children are doing?” Madame Coin snaps at the audience, shooing them with her cane. “Be gone and finish your chores, or God will punish you for meddling in others' business!”

I see Peeta in the crowd, his recent growth spurt making him a few inches taller than the other children, and my stomach sinks so low I’m sure the Devil can see it. This is my punishment for looking at a boy. Madame Coin, and even Father Snow, always insisted that we do not look. It is a sin to look when we were put on this earth to serve. I looked and lost my sister. I’m sure He’s laughing from above at my foolishness.

My eyes avert to my too small shoes, hoping everyone would just leave me be so that I can be punished and sent back to work.

“That was quite a scene you exhibited, child.” I know I should look up—children must look up to their superiors—but the thought of that woman’s cruel smirk at the sight of my tears made my blood boil.

“I apologize, Madame,” I hiccup, running my hand across my snotty nose. “She’s my sister.”

“Was,” Coin corrects and I do look up now, rapidly blinking as my eyes adjust to the bright sun hitting her light blonde hair. “She’s no relation to you now and I suggest you remember that. You lost all relations the moment your parents dropped dead.”

She was trying to get to me, wanting me to say something that would cause a bigger punishment than I could ever imagine, and I should keep my mouth shut and falsely accept her statement, but a little voice inside my head reminds me that lying is worse than a beating. 

“Pardon me, Madame Coin, but aren’t we all God’s children? Doesn’t that mean we’re all related?” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. A lie would have been better.

“You insolent little girl!” she growls, reeling back her cane. I instinctually cover my face, praying to God for how sorry I am and for Him to please make the beating bearable. I don’t want to limp like Peeta, or flinch at every sound like Clove Anderson.

Please, I beg. Make it fast.

The wooden cane never strikes and I peek out from under my arm in surprise and see Coin standing there, a calculated look written on her face.

“Stand,” she commands and I oblige, too curious and confused at what was happening. “I should give you thirty lashes for that scene alone,” and the ball in my throat gets stuck at that. I’ve never received thirty lashes before. “But I’m going to be merciful today. Follow me.”

We walk past the gardens, my chin high in the air as heads cautiously pop up to watch us pass. I don’t know where we’re going, but soon we are close to the woods, about a mile I’d guess from the house. Questions fill my head as I wonder if she’s actually going to kill me out here in the wild, where no one can hear me scream. It’s numbing knowing I wouldn’t put up much of a fight if she did decide to kill me. There’s no point trying, now.

Coin stops in front of a small hut that’s no bigger than our gardening shed and pulls out a ring of keys. She unlocks the door and steps to the side, motioning for me to step in. I peer inside, cringing at the smell, and I know this is my punishment for acting out in front of Mr. Heavensbee and for talking back when I wasn’t supposed to. She’s going to lock me in here.

“Well get in!” And she grabs my collar, shoving me into the dank, dark room. From the smell alone I can tell no one’s been in here for years and I feel around for anything, the tiny hole near the floor supplying no light.  The room is empty. “You will spend 40 hours in here. One hour for every lashing you would have received had I not been in such a good mood. You will repent to the only person out here: God. And when I return, I expect you to recite an explanation on your sins and what you have learned from your time out here. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Madame Coin.”

She closes and locks the door and I am shrouded in darkness. Alone, I can finally cry without worrying about eyes watching, and I cry until God takes mercy on me and I fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, or how late it is, but a tiny knock on the door alerts me awake.“Who is it?” I demand. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Peeta hisses, knocking again.

I stand up and feel my way to the door. “Peeta? What are you doing here? Did you sneak out?” I accuse, wondering why he always put himself into harm’s way for me.

“What? No! No, Katniss.” I hear him sigh and I lean my head against the wooden door, imagining the way his chest rises, his hands in his hair because he’s agitated. “I brought you some bread and water.” A tray slides through the tiny hole by the ground and I stumble to it, my stomach growling at the knowledge of food. It’s hard to keep myself at bay while eating the single slice of bread, but I manage and take a tiny sip of water, savoring the refreshment I’ve been denied all day.

“Does she know you’re out here?” I ask at last, hoping he won’t get into trouble because of me again.

“She told Annie to bring it, but she’s afraid of the dark and I offered to take the tray instead.”

“Does Coin know you’re out here, Peeta?” I clarify.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time and I know his answer before he even says it. “She knows you’re being fed, but no, she doesn’t know that I’m the one who’s bringing it to you.”

I sigh and roll onto my back, looking up at darkness. “God’s punishing me.”

“What? No! You can’t believe that, Katniss. Madame Coin is insane. Possessed, I’m sure.”

“I sinned, Peeta, and He took my sister away,” I simply tell him, my voice emotionless. I must have cried longer than I thought. “Prim’s gone because of me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe in all that.” His hand finds my arm through the hole and I scoot up so that our hands are holding onto each other. I wonder if this is another sin we’re creating, but holding hands doesn’t seem terrible. I’m sure Jesus held his best friend’s hand and Peeta is the only person I can depend on in this place now.

“I don’t know what to believe.” And that’s all I say until he tells me he has to get back before they lock the doors, squeezing my hand in parting.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promises, but I’m beginning to lose hope in promises.

[willsimpforazula]

Sokkla Month Day 27/28: Angst/Fluff

A/N: Song is Oath Sign by LiSA, English translation from Amalee's cover.

PS: Fate has some killer OPs.

PPS: I blame my laziness on being too engrossed in Seiba fanfics.

Anywho...bone apple tea or somthing liek dats

------

繰り返す世界 何度手を伸ばしたら

儚い涙は黒い心溶かすの?

芽生え出した思いが胸に響いたなら

君の隣でずっと変わらず護るだろう

Once again I reach my hand into a world, repeating on end

Though it's dark, could my tears carve a path and lead me right into your heart?

Like a rose it blooms and grows inside my chest you're name's all it knows

Is this fate, 'cuz every day I pray that by your side I can stay

The first time they met, it was in an abandoned town in some forgotten corner of the Earth Kingdom. From then on, they sought to find out everything and anything they could on each other.

Every piece of information, every scrap of rumours and sightings was held tightly to their chest, blooming and growing as each of them kept tabs on the other as best they could. When asked, they casually dismissed it as 'research on the enemy', though both of them knew they weren't fooling anyone. After all, research most certainly did not include figuring out each other's likes and dislikes, as if one were to be inviting the other over for some afternoon tea.

-------

堕ちた希望を拾って 明日に繋いでゆけば

絡まった歪な願いだってほどける

I'll gather these fallen flowers, the hope discarded and broken

And join them where they can meet, my wish is to set them free

"Are you sure about this?"

"More than I've ever been."

"What if your sister…"

"If she wanted to, she would have done it a long time ago."

"Regardless, I don't like it one bit. Not after what she did to-to-"

"You were just itching for an excuse to bloodbend me no matter what I said or did, even after helping you track down your mother's killer. But yes, please lecture me on what your brother can and cannot do."

"That was different."

"I fail to see the differences."

"......"

"Everyone deserves a second chance. Killing her doesn't solve anything. Or taking her bending away. Your brother is the only one who can get through to her. Not me, not the therapists. I just want her to be whole again, free from Ozai's influences."

"If she ever so much as hurts a hair on him, she is dead, consequences be damned and you won't stop me. Understand?"

"Be my guest."

-----

光をかざして躊躇いを消した

あげたかったのは未来で

泣いてる夜抱いたまま 嘆きを叫んで

踏み入れた足を 遠くの理想が そっと癒してゆく

確かな絆を強く握り進もう どこまでも

穢れきった奇跡を背に

Holding up the light within and with no hesitation,

To give you a future is all I wanted

Hold me tight through the dark endless nights, as I scream till the morning' s light

All my broken down ideals, I know they will heal

With every step they'll form the future

I'll hold tightly to this special bond we share, I'll follow you anywhere

Carrying onwards bearing this miracle

"Why are you here?"

"I-well, I-"

"Answer me, brother of Katara. Why do you come day after day? Is it because you wish to rub my defeat in my face? Or are you here to make me feel comfortable with my executioner? Answer me."

"It's neither of these."

"Lies."

"I'm not lying, princess."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This. Pretending to be my friend, offering empty words. I don't need any of these."

"That's where you're wrong. Your brother-"

"Is weak and an imbecile for letting me live."

"Everyone deserves a second chance. Even you."

"If the roles were reversed you would have been executed on the spot, after a long torture session that would make death seem like a release."

"I doubt that."

"What would you know of my methods?"

"Because I know deep down inside there is still that spark inside of you. You are only the way that you are because frankly your parents were shit."

"You know nothing!"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Pulling out a dossier, he slid it across to her.

"What is this?"

"Know thy enemy, know thyself and you will win a hundred battles. Call it a hunch, call it a brother's intuition. Besides, if you really wanted me dead I would have been killed, I don't know, about twenty times over before we got to this point?"

"Fuck off Sokka, I don't want to see your face for the rest of the month."

"Keep telling yourself that missy." he smirked, even as a fireball whizzed dangerously close to his head.

"My my, someone's rusty."

"Fuck you you no good piece of shit savage!" she snarled, even as he moved out of earshot. Sometimes, she thought, it was better to not meet one's idol after all.

------

創られた想い 触れればなによりも

温かくて現実が霞み始める

狂い出した世界に問いかけ続けても

答えなんて出ないって もう君は知っていたの?

泣いて滲んだ願いは 決して揺るぎはしなくて

ただそっと痛みを終わりなく与える

Once again I hope I can regain the warmth that's ahead, and I pray these fake feelings will blur

As the world starts to fade away

Even if I lose my grip and set this question free from my lips,

I won't be surprised to know no answer will come from the light

This wish that was born from our tears, I know it'll never waver

I won't forget the pain even as we forge on ahead

"Crown Princess Azula, you are hereby relieved of all titles save your status as a princess and are forbidden from entering Caldera without prior permission from the Fire Lord himself. You are to be placed under house arrest on Ma'inka for the rest of your days. All communication will be vetted and censored and any attempt at inciting rebellion will result in your bending being stripped away as your only warning. The next attempt will result in public capital punishment. Do you understand?"

"I hear and obey."

"One question."

"Go ahead."

"Why spare me? Why let me live with my bending, knowing that it will be more trouble than it's worth?"

"It seems you have an advocate high in the system that petitioned on your behalf. Any more questions?"

"None."

"You have twenty four hours to prepare, starting now. I suggest you make full use of this time."

Why did you do it? Sokka you stupid fucking idiot, I'm a fucking liablity here. I really hope you don't regret it, she thought to herself.

---

Dear Suki,

I know what you're thinking. Believe me, sometimes I wonder if it's easier to just let her die or languish in some asylum for the rest of her days. But, well, I don't think I'll ever sleep easy at night knowing that perhaps I could have done something to save her.

I know with every sentence I write, I'm essentially digging my own grave. And frankly, I don't blame you. After all she did throw you into the Fire Nation's Supermax. I won't pretend her hands are clean, that she didn't know what she was doing but still, I think everyone deserves a second chance.

I'm sorry.

Sorry for leading you on all this while.

Sorry for making you think we had a future together.

Sorry for making you wait so long before I came to save you.

Most of all, sorry for giving what is rightfully yours to someone who probably doesn't deserve it.

I know that you'd most likely hop on the next boat and drag my corpse back to Caldera so you can beat the shit out of me one more time but please, whatever happens, your happiness isn't with me.

PS: Katara was just as livid when I told her about it. Also, I hear Zuko is single and ready to mingle (probably not the latter; spirits know he has the social skills of a turtleduck, which is to say none).

---------

哀しみを知って 喜びを知った 弱さは君を変えて

立ち止まった時 剥がれ すべてを壊した

Only knowing of sadness

Never thought I could feel this

But now I know what is pure happiness

Time stops still, taking your breath away

So rip from weakness and escape

Standing on the bridge, the glowing lights of Caldera grew ever fainter until it was a distant white speck on the horizon, before it finally sank beneath the horizon. Under the light of the stars and moon, the vessel was illuminated by the moonlight and the bioluminescent blue algae crashing against the bow of the ship. It seemed ironic that a vessel that carried her off two years with the promise of greatness and glory would now be carrying her off to obscurity and exile.

"Here, wear this. Wouldn't want you getting a cold now?"

"Why?" she whispered, a stray tear falling from her eyes as she felt a coat placed on her shoulders.

"Why what?"

"Why do all of this? For me? For someone who doesn't deserve this?"

"Because no one stood up for you when they should have."

"You shouldn't have. You deserve your happy ever after with Suki, not a lifetime of pain and regret with me."

"Maybe. Maybe it's all for nothing and I deserve a lifetime of pain and regret for being an idiot. But if I'm being honest, the times I sparred with you were the times I felt most alive. Like as if I finally found what I've been seeking for all this while."

"This is a massive gamble you're taking, betting it all like this."

"What can I say? It almost worked on the Day of the Black Sun. It worked out on the day of Sozin's Comet."

"What makes you think you can save me from myself? More to the point, why do you think I want to be saved to begin with? Until you can give me a satisfactory answer, don't come and look for me." she replied.

Just as she was about to disappear into the ship, she heard him mutter "Because you deserve to be happy too."

------

届くはずのない言葉を託して 見えた瞳は

何を感じて遠ざけるの? 心隠すように

今ここにいる意味 教えてくれたなら

強くいられる 変わらずいつも

I keep screaming out to you though I may never reach you,

But still I can picture the light in your eyes

Tell me what makes you so afraid that you'd hide your heart away

If only you'd turn to to me and say the words that would give my life meaning

Then I would and will forever be strong enough

Ducking into her room, Azula cried into her pillow, as she asked if this was one of fate's twisted ironies dealing her a hand that seemed too good to be true. Monsters don't need saving, they need to be put down. You don't deserve him.

Shut up!

You know it's true.

What's stopping him from betraying you? Or has your adolescent heart fallen for him that you would excuse any of his actions?

Shut up!

I could go on. Do you want me to?

No, stop please!

Azula!

Azula!

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands embracing her in a tight hug, making her gasp. It was warm, familiar and comforting. At once, the voices in her mind stilled, as the other person called out her name tenderly, like a parent with a lost child. Instinctively she knew it was Sokka, yet she kept her eyes screwed shut lest it all turn out to be a figment of her imagination.

After all, she had once hallucinated her mother talking to her on the day of Sozin's Comet when she was obviously nowhere near her room, much less Caldera or the Palace.

In a small still voice, she asked "Is-is it really you Sokka?", to which she felt a gentle pressure of his lips on her forehead and a response "Can hallucinations do this?"

"I don't know anymore. Please, don't lie to me."

"Open your eyes."

"No, what if it's all just my hallucinations?"

Another kiss.

"Still not convinced?"

"No."

Scooping up her hands in his, he pressed it against his chest and cheeks before asking her "Are you convinced now?"

In response, she buried her face in his shoulder, this time sobbing loudly as emotion overtook her senses. Meanwhile, Sokka just held her wordlessly, stroking her hair and back. When she finally stilled, he placed her on the bed and tucked her in. Before he left, she asked "Do you mean it?"

"?"

"What you said on the bridge, that I deserve to be happy too, even after all I've done?"

"Yes."

---------

光をかざして躊躇いを消した

あげたかったのは未来で

泣いてる夜抱いたまま 嘆きを叫んで

踏み入れた足を 遠くの理想が そっと癒してゆく

確かな絆を強く握り進もう どこまでも

迷いなんて目を開いて

振り払って手を伸ばそう

穢れきった奇跡を背に

Holding up the light within and with no hesitation,

To give you a future is all I wanted

Hold me tight through the dark endless nights, as I scream till the morning' s light

All my broken down ideals, I know they will heal

With every step they'll form the future

I'll hold tightly to this special bond we share, I'll follow you anywhere

No hesitating I'll open my eyes, though my heart's breaking

I'll reach out my hand and carry onwards

Bearing this miracle

15 years later….

"No no no Sokka you can't do this! You promised!" Azula screamed as she held his battered body in her hands.

"I-I'm sorry, firefly. I guess I was in over my head a little, huh?" he coughed, blood and spit staining the floor and her dress.

"I-we-don't have much time. There's someone else you need to protect."

"You're my only anchor to sanity Sokka! You can't."

Grabbing the nearest sheet of paper, Sokka wrote down a short message, before tearing off his necklace and dipping in it his blood, before pressing it into the paper like a seal.

"T-that should be enough, I think."

"Sokka please stop saying things like these! Our kid needs a father! She needs you! I need you!"

"Then I'm a terrible father if I can't protect those whom I love. Please, go now."

"Sokka!"

"Remember what I said on the bridge that night we left Caldera?"

"Yes, but don't you deserve happiness too?"

"Being with you these past fifteen years made me happy enough, so please, for the sake of yours and hers, go now while you still have the time."

"You're just one swordsman and a non-bender, how-"

"I have my ways. Seriously please, grab this and go! Every second we argue here is one second less you have to escape!"

"Alright, fine! But I better see you in Caldera, or else! I'll be damned if I let Risa grow up without a father."

"I'll try."

"No 'try', you will. Promise me Sokka."

"As you wish, firefly."

----

Present day

"Mommy, where are we going?"

"We're going to see daddy, Riri."

"Going to see daddy?"

"Yes, that's right." she replied as she stepped into the small shrine.

Turning her head and looking around, Risa could only see plaques with names and faces, but not a single person. Tugging on her mother's sleeve, she asked "Where's daddy? Why are we here?"

Scooping her up into her arms, she pointed at a plaque that bore his name and face, as well as a jet black sword encased in stone. "That-" she pointed, "is daddy."

At once, things clicked her mind and she asked the obvious "Is-is daddy gone?"

"No, no he isn't. Because he's in you and me. As long as someone remembers him, he will never be gone."

"Really?"

"Really."

Pulling out a handful of joss sticks, she asked Risa "Could you light this for me?" Nodding, she conjured a small green flame on her fingertips and lit the incense. Handing over three of the six sticks in her hands, both mother and daughter bowed twice, before placing it in the urn. Finally, Azula unwrapped a packet of seal jerky and placed it as an offering on the altar, before bowing again and taking her daughter by the hand to leave the place.

As they did, she could feel a burden being lifted from her shoulders as they crossed the threshold and just for a moment, she thought she could smell the ocean breeze and smoke, twin scents that reminded her so much of the boy, no, man who threw it all aside for her.

"I promise Sokka, I'll make sure Risa here grows up happy and healthy." she whispered to herself.

[yami-writes]

Autumn Leaves

(🏷️) paring(s):  Todoroki x reader (🔮) summary:  Class 1-A’s Halloween day, how exciting! (⚠️) warning(s): just sum fluff (🔖) word count: 2.1k (💌) note from Yami: ending off our Seasonal Love Event with somewhat of a bang ;)

Season: Autumn/Fall words: Halloween, Harvested, Cobweb

A gust feathered atop your hair, making it dance in the breeze. You moved your small bag to your left hand to use your right index finger to remove a small strand of hair from your face. You took a quick look around you, admiring the scenery. It looks quite lovely outside. The sky looked as if it was raining leaves of all autumn colours. Yellow, orange, red, brown… it all looked so pleasing. You could practically smell the sweet sap in the oak trees, ready to be harvested. While the breath-taking view in front of you was georges, something- no, someone even better was walking right beside you. You looked up at him, being greeted once again by his seemingly perfect appearance. His red and white hair mashed together as the wind trickled through it, creating a non-symmetrical pattern that was surprisingly pleasing to the eye. His heteomocratic eyes seemed to be admiring the view in front of him as well, as they glicinded with a slight tint of the autumn leaves dancing in the wind. He seemed to be just as mesmerized by the sight as you were.

‘God- why does he have to be so kissable?’

The two of you continued walking, soon to be met with your destination. You both crossed onto a street the two of you knew all too well and, before you knew it, you were in front of a tall building you’ve been living in for the past 3 years, this year surprisingly being your last. The building full of memories to be remembered forever. The classmates you trained with, and will become pro heroes with, Heights Alliance. You excitedly skipped in, your boyfriend following close behind

“Careful, y/n. Remember your carrying a bag.” he warned, closing the door behind him. “It's fine! I won't break the pumpkins, have some trust in me, Shouto!” you replied, carefully setting the delicate bag on a table. “That's not what i meant, i just don't want you to break them-” 

“says the guy he almost didn't even let me hold the bag in the first place” it took you almost 10 minutes to convince him to hold the bag and even after, you felt his missed-matched eyes glance at you every now and then

“Whatever. lets just go do this before you get the chance to destroy one.” “hey!!” Before you were able to contest, you felt his lips line up beautifly with yours. 

Admittedly, this was his sweet way of shutting you up, an overpowered weapon used too often.

The two of you went up to your dorm and prepared for an event class A’s  been planning for what seemed like months. Halloween day! Not the most creative name, sure, but the name wasn't the important part. It consisted of a Jack O'Lantern contest before taking a quick trip to an Amusement park. Simple, yes, but you were looking forward to it non the less. 

“How do we do this?” Your boyfriend asked, as he placed a small, bright pumpkin on the floor in front of him. You reached into your bag and grabbed a small knife you had bought. You then got out your phone and opened a screenshot you had taken of the steps on how to make a jack o lantern “okay, first step is to scrape out the insides of the pumpkin” you read out, as you handed him a knife. You placed your phone down beside you and started slicing around the stem of the pumpkin, and surely enough, todoroki followed your lead. 

Not before long, the room filled with the sweet scent of pumpkin. As if the two of you were baking a pie and just took it out of a steamy oven. You finished slicing the top of your soon to be Jack o’lantern and picked the top off by the stem, chunks of pumpkin coming out along with it. “Oh….” your boyfriend mumbled upon seeing the overwhelming amount of pumpkin coming out “don't worry, just take them off and place them in the bag” you dragged the plastic bag you had been using to carry your stuff beside the two of you before using your knife to cut and rip off the access pumpkin. “Here, do the same to yours” you said, picking up a pair of gloves you had previously put to the side. 

The two of you continued scraping out the insides of your pumpkins. It had been about 10 minutes but you finally scooped out your final piece and placed it in the bag with the rest “done!” you exclaimed, wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You could hear classmates downstairs already debating who was going to have the best jack o’lantern, with a few mentions of the haunted house trip. It was clear they were excited. You glanced over at your boyfriend’s pumpkin. Empty. “I was waiting for you to finish yours.” he said, his usual stoic expression on his face, impossible to read. Not even his eyes would give any hints this time. “Why? You could’ve asked me for the next step! My phone is right there!” you pointed towards your phone, it being right in front the two of you, facing upwards and unlocked. “I wanted to do this with you…” you couldn't help but hold back a giggle at his cute answer, but it was no surprise, considering its the most used reason he has for anything.

You picked up your phone and looked for the next step, “okay, now we need to choose our design” you searched through your gallery for some pictures you had previously saved as inspiration. “Ah here they are! Look!” you nudged you boyfriend, somehow catching more of his attention. You slowly scrolled through the photos, all of them being amazingly good. The orange glow coming from inside of the jack O’lantern, lighting up the bitch black atmosphere. For some of them, you could partly see the candle on the inside, lighting up the picture even more. There were bats, faces, ghosts, words, and everything in between. 

It felt like the two of you were scrolling for a while before you came to the end of the photos of inspiration you saved. “Oh, I have an idea!” you said, putting your phone down where it was before “i'm gonna make a cobweb!” your boyfriend looked down at you, looking slightly confused “i didn't see any cobwebs, y/n,” he said. You only now remember who you're doing this with. He’s never celebrated any holidays, let alone participated in Halloween activities, now it's your job to teach and help him enjoy himself. “You don't have to do one of the jack o’lanterns I showed you, those were just for inspiration! You can do whatever you like! Just try to make it Halloween themed.” you watched as the gears turned in his head, despite seeing so many examples he could just copy from, considering he’s so new to this. 

“Can i do a cobweb too?” his heterochromatic eyes met yours in an instant, matched with his usual unreadable expression, but you can usually tell when he’s joking. 

“Why a cobweb? Did I not show you enough examples to choose from? I can find more-” 

“no. i wanna do what you're doing. i already told you this, y/n.” you laughed at his somewhat child-like answer, but there's no denying his answer made your heart flutter. “Okay okay! We can do the cobweb design together!” you watched as todoroki’s usual stoic expression disappeared and was replaced by a sweet smile, something you wished you got to see more often, no matter how many times you've seen it. You did a quick search for cobweb reference, placing your phone back down when you found a simple one to copy from. “Okay, now use this to draw out that shape in your pumpkin.” you handed todoroki a black sharpie before taking out your own, already beginning to start drawing on your own pumpkin. 

The next 30 minutes went by in a blur, filled with silence to the point of being able to hear each other's heartbeat, creating a soothing melody able to lull anybody to sleep. You finished up the last details of your pumpkin before snapping out of what seems to be a dream fuelled by concentration. “Does this look good, y/n?” your boyfriend asks, seemingly in desperate need of your validation. You look over at Todoroki’s pumpkin, only to be met with a masterpiece. His pumpkin looked incredibly similar to the photo and would definitely make a very pleasing jack O’lantern. You stared at the pumpkin in awe, ‘how is he so good at everything?’

“y/n?” your boyfriend gave you a gentile shake, bringing your attention back to his slightly saddened features “does it really look that bad? I thought it was okay...” 

“w-wait no! It looks really good! I just didn't think it would be that good, ‘cause, you know, this is your first time,” every word that came out of your mouth sounded like you mashed it all into a single one, making it slightly difficult to understand, but your boyfriend understood very well. 

He let out a small chuckle, something you were not mentally prepared for, before looking back down at his pumpkin “thank you, y/n.” 

You swear your heart skipped more than a single beat, in fact your entire pulse was gone a second. ‘He-he’s so perfect…’

You grabbed a pack of candles from beside you, ripping open and allowing all the small candles inside to fall to the floor. “I don't think we got any matches,” your boyfriend reminds upon seeing the candles that would need to be lit. “We don't need them, we have you.” you replied, taking out two candles and holding them in front of him with pleading eyes, he couldn't refuse. You watched carefully as he set his index finger ablaze, lighting the two candles in your hand. The flames fluttered, causing the lighting around you to flutter along with it. You placed both the candles inside your pumpkins, now the two of you had your Jack O’lanterns.

You got up to turn off the lights, wanting to get the full Jack O’lantern experience. Your room went dark, black even. The Jack O’lanterns glowed, tinting the area around them a bright orange, just like the flames burning inside. Quite the beautiful sight to see. You heard your phone vibrate before the screen turned on with a message. You picked up your phone, the bright screen slightly blinding you; 

⚡denki⚡: “hey y/n! Come down now! Were gonna see who has the best Jack O'Lantern!!”

You put your phone in your pocket before picking up your newly made Jack’ O lantern “it's time to judge the other Jack O’ Lanterns now, lets go!” Todoroki got up from the floor, taking his Jack O’ Lantern with him and the two of you made your way down.

“Ah, y/n! Todoroki! Come put your Jack O’Lanterns over here!” Mina joyfully gestured to a table that had been previously set up, everyone else's Jack O’Lanterns sitting on top. You and Todoroki placed your Jack O’Lanterns on the table “okay, now c’mon! We're gonna go to the amusement park now! Don't be slow!!” Mina skipped out the door and you followed close behind.

Half the class was already waiting outside.

The next 3 hours went by~ you and the rest of class A enjoying your time. You dragged your boyfriend across the park, making stops at the rides, food stalls, and finally, the Halloween Haunted house. The wait was long, almost 30 minutes. It was cold, the Autumn breezes coming often. Todoroki used his quirk to keep you warm while you wait, allowing you to borrow his sweater since he didn't need it. He kept his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. 

He “protected” you from the feared attractions in the Haunted house, as you were hiding behind him as you hear the screams of everyone in front of you. Lights flickered and noises were loud, but after about 10 minutes of walking, you met the end of the haunted house. The winds outside were even more violent than before, yet your boyfriend's sweater battled it off.

You and the rest of class gathered around a big tree behind the Amusement Park. you were able to see everything. The festival lights illuminated the sky, bright yellow, red and orange lights spread everywhere. You lean your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, drowsiness starting to consume you. You could hear Uraraka and Mina’s loud conversation about the Haunted House, pointing out the scariest part of it. 

You made yourself comfy underneath your boyfriend’s arm, feeling the warmth emit from his left side. Before he knew it, you had fallen asleep by his side. He pulled you closer, resting his head on yours

“Thank you, y/n...Happy Halloween.”