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todoscript · 3 years

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SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

---------------------

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

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sanguith · 3 years

Text

Today (10th of September) is Suicide Prevention day.

I’ve lost someone because they took their own life. And I struggle with suicidal thoughts on a daily basis. Sometimes it’s just a wordless echo in the back of my head that I can ignore, sometimes a roaring siren that drowns out everything else.

The limitations my adhd puts on my functionality in day-to-day life is one of many examples of something which frequently triggers the thought-spirals that increase this feeling. “How could I ever expect to function in society if I have to put so much work and constant effort to reach even the most basic level of functionality compared to other people? What is the point of fighting so disproportionately hard in a society that expects me to function in a way that is literally impossible for me? Is it worth the effort, and what will the end result be? Is there even a chance I could ever fit in?”

“Life means non-conformity” is a thing I wrote down in my journal at some point as some sort of revelation that has since become a bit of a mantra. In essence, it means knowing myself and realizing what I need in order to function optimally, and then apply all of that to my life. If it means self-isolating at home for five hours with my nose in a book in order to understand a difficult subject, so be it, even if it means it will take a lot of time and effort and deprive me of opportunities social interaction I would have loved to attend. If it means walking away from a busy environment to sit in the bathroom for five minutes doing breathing exercises, so be it. If it means accepting that “okay, my brain won’t let me learn anything today. It’s okay. There is time later”, so be it. It’s a hassle, and it’s usually seen as socially inappropriate, but it’s the only way I could ever expect to reduce the suffering and the only way i could get anything out of life at all.

Because if I keep pushing myself to “be normal” then I will eventually push myself so far that I push myself off a cliff, figuratively or possibly literally, from which there is no chance of return once my body hits the sharp rocks and gets swallowed by the swirling black waters below. I know because up until very recently in my life I tried to ignore all my difficulties, I was convinced it was something I could overcome with discipline alone, but due to my brain working in different patterns than most people it’s literally impossible.

And another very difficult thing is the lack of understanding from others. Lack of knowledge, sympathy, acceptance. It leads to a feeling of alienation and otherness that becomes imprinted in your mind and shapes the way you view yourself. You start believing you’re not meant to succeed, that you truly are pathetically inferior, doomed to wade through the murky swamp of envy of other’s accomplishments.

I’ve stood on the edge of that metaphorical cliff so many times as a result of ceaselessly pushing myself too far, and that final little push always seems so very inviting. I’ve stopped being afraid of the height, and the ground beneath feels familiar. But I walked away from it. And there is immense pride in knowing you’ve stared face-to-face to that beckoning void that calls your name and says there is a place for you down there, yet you chose to take a step back, proclaiming loudly with a shaky voice “not today”. Then turning away to keep fighting.

I wish everybody were given the tools that enabled them to walk away from that cliff. To find certainty and hope within the uncertainty of continued existence. It’s a complex subject, but if you reduce it down to its smallest parts I believe suicide occurs when there is too much or too little of something. Too much pressure or suffering in one way or another, or too little of something we need on an intrinsic level, too few tools and methods to dealing with that suffering. There is a cause and a problem that can, in some way, be identified and worked on and maybe solved. Society can’t provide this for everybody. I’m lucky to have found some methods myself through intense introspection, and I feel like I can at least keep my head above water for the foreseeable future. And I wish society and the world was better at providing the continuous support that is needed for us to feel that same sense of certainty in our life. Because what is suicide prevention worth without a way to make sure you’re not just prolonging unnecessary suffering?

Anyway. I hope this wasn’t too long or convoluted. It’s just some of my thoughts that have been going through my head today. It’s a subject that is difficult to talk about, but I’m trying to be more open about it. It’s scary, sad, and leads to a lot of frustration when society as a whole doesn’t seem to take this very seriously. But these feelings makes us want to act, to find a solution, however complex it might be and I want to work on finding that solution for myself and maybe even others.

#tw suicide #tw suicide mention #mental health #suicide prevention day #ask to tag #♥ take care out there #okay to rb btw

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inlovewithhisblueeyes · 4 years

Text

Stuck in Your Head

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: ~2.7K

Warnings: Descriptive Depressive Episode and Discussions about Prescription Medications (specifically missing doses and having side effects)

A/N: This is my first time writing RPF so I decided to stick with something I know well. I substituted my own best friend’s name in so I didn’t have to deal with the pesky acronyms cluttering the story.

Buried underneath the covers, you were safe even though sleep continued to elude you. The chill of the morning was unable to pierce the walls of your blanket fortress. While the soft pitter-pattering of rain on your window would normally be able to lull you to dreamland, you were left to watch the rise and fall of the fabric.

Early daylight had danced its way across the room a millennia ago. No matter how deep you burrowed into your little nest, the light would seep through. So you tucked your head underneath your pillow and fought the urge to continuously check your phone. Watching time tick past would only make these growing frustrations and anxieties worse.

You remained curled up with your knees close to your chest, willing your hands to stop their shaking. All those exercises you had been taught in therapy seemed fruitless. Nothing could alleviate this numbness that had settled in your bones. Time continued to pass as you laid there, only daring to leave your bed’s warm embrace when your bladder was screaming in agony.

The spot where you laid never had to the time to cool. You were always sucked right back to it in record time like every episode before. Brain fog would cause the same thing every time. The days would seem to just blend into one another, a cycle of light and shadows that would chase each other around the ceiling. You would have no idea if you took your meds, what day it was, or even the last time you ate. Time would be nonexistent in your little blanketed world.

A soft vzzzzt came from outside your safe zone. Moving your hand slightly, you could just barely feel the vibrations of your phone. You paused as you tried to decide if you had enough energy to answer. It was most likely unimportant, another robocall about some silly matter. Sighing heavily, you drew your hand back to its previous position.

Silence fell over the room once more and you breathed a sigh of relief. You forced your eyes shut in hopes that you could finally sleep. Not more than a few moments passed before the quiet was broken yet again. The soft vzzzzt returned, requiring you to begrudgingly open your eyes. You hissed as you slowly rolled over, just enough to reach over and drag your phone under the covers with you.

You flipped your phone over as your best friend’s face filled up the screen. You know you should answer it, but you didn’t want to worry her. Ariel has enough going on without you dragging her into your shit. You quickly shot off one of those automated responses saying you’re busy and you’ll call back later before declining the call.

Carefully shoving your phone back out from under your blanket pile, you tried once more to adjust and get comfy. Finally, it seemed that the sleep you craved is upon you. You yawned before nestling your head deeper into your pillow and letting your eyes fall shut.

You woke up sometime later and noticed that the bedroom is almost completely dark. You dare to glance at your phone and it’s only 6 pm. Stiff limbs quickly made themselves known as you tried to stretch. They crack and pop as you finally moved them, each crying out desperately for motion.

Slowly you sit up and allow yourself to slip out from your burrito. Every movement feels as if you’re wading through an endless pool of molasses. You rise to feet carefully and your knees buckle as they wake up to support you. Ambling towards the kitchen, you tried to scrounge up the desire for anything other than a few mints.

Your pickings are rather slim. Even then everything would take longer than you know you have the energy to stand for. Huffing as you grabbed handful of mints before you make your back to bed. You crawled back into bed, grabbing your laptop in hopes you can find someway to pass the next round of sleepless.

Popping a mint in your mouth and scrolling through the various entertainment options, you happened across a show you know very well. Another time you might have smiled at your luck. Of course it recommends something that he was in. Rolling over to grab your phone, you unlock it to check what time it is over there.

2 am the clock answered. You swallowed the lump in your throat, remembering what he said last time.

“I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, call. I’d do anything for you. “

You glance at the clock once more and you lose your nerve.

“He’s halfway across the world right now and under enough stress. You’ll talk to him again when Friday comes around” you rationalize internally, “That’s more than 3 days away. You’ll be back to your usual by then. You always are.”

You shake your head and push the phone off the bed. Tucking an arm under your head and curling your knees to your chest, placing your laptop on top of them. You settle in with Forensic Files, hoping that Peter Thomas’s voice will eventually get you more sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come. You’ve lost count of how many episodes of Forensic Files that you’ve watched. All of them have blurred together. Once again the sun’s rays slowly painted your room in an array of reds, oranges, and finally yellows. Two more rounds of soft vzzzzt that go unanswered cause you to retreat back under the blankets once more.

For how long you remain there is unknown. All you known is that you’re forced to get up by your throbbing bladder. Then you’re back in your bed, curled up around a pillow and begging for sleep to come. Your body is sore, your mind is all fogged up, and by the time you do feel sleepy, the sun must be high in the sky.

Here's to another day of waking up after the sun has set. Daylight Savings Time is a bitch. There’s no use in checking your phone. You stretched and tried to sum up the strength to move your feet, knowing you need to at least try to make your way to the kitchen. Each step causes a shooting pain in your underused appendages.

Leaning against the counter, you grabbed a package of Cup Ramen from the cabinet. Not the healthiest choice, but the one that will take the shortest amount of time to cook. Adding the water and setting it in the microwave is the easiest part; having the strength to wait the 3 minutes to cook is the hardest.

Anxiety seeps in as you watched the timer go down. Tapping your fingers against your thigh, you tried to pass the time without throwing yourself into an anxiety attack. Finally, the microwave beeps and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You opened the microwave and quickly stirred the contents of the cup together.

You make the trip back to the bed that’s been calling your name since you left. Although you’re not hungry, you have to try to eat. You ate earlier right?....Your stomach hadn’t give any indication of hunger. You ate as much as you could stomach before leaving the unfinished meal beside your bed.

Grabbing your laptop, you scrolled through for something, anything to distract you. In a moment of clarity, you remembered that last time he mentioned a nature documentary which he said you should watch. You found it easily and turned it on, curling your body around your laptop. In your bones, the numbness reared it’s ugly head once more.

The animals in documentary didn’t cause you to laugh at their antics like they usually would. You had to pause it. You felt like you were drowning in this void. What once might have been enough to drag you out of the darkness, no longer could do so. You had been doing so well; going to your appointments and working on coping with your trauma only for the empty pit to gobble you up once more.

Screwing your eyes shut as you take in one shaky breath after the other. Whatever strength that was left in your tired limbs, you willed to help get you through. You needed to be fine, he needed you to be fine. Every inch of you shook with hurt and sorrow as sleep waded in and out of your mind. It took forever to succumb.

A gentle chime woke you from your fitful sleep. You laid underneath your mountain of blankets and watched the gentle rise and fall that came with every breath you took. You blinked a few times as you attempted to stretch out your body. The chime had stopped by the time you were finally able to peak your head from where it was tangled in your cocoon.

The noise had emanated from your laptop. You inwardly curses yourself because you only know what that means. You left yourself logged into Skype and you reached a hand over to check who called. However, as soon as you did, the chime started up again, his name flashed on your screen.

A sob threatened to break loose from your lips. It couldn’t have been Friday already. Skype dates only happened on Friday and Saturdays, that was your routine. You glanced around your room and contemplated slamming your laptop closed. Based on the colors of the sun that painted your bedroom’s walls, it was early, much too early for his call.

Deep down you knew he would keep calling until you responded and as much as it pained you to do so, you had to give into him. You moved the cursor to hover over the accept button. With a deep breath, you clicked accept. You waited for the swoosh that always came before his face filled the screen.

You couldn’t face him like this. He didn’t deserve this. Your stomach was already upset, it didn’t need your anxiety making it worse. Burying your face in your hands, you heard the tell-tale noise that the call connected.

“Darling, there you are,” he exclaimed.

You had no choice but to peek between your fingers to see his smiling face. He looked so happy and full of light. You couldn’t dare to bring him down from his high. He was worthy of so much more, someone who wasn’t empty. Surely he could see that.

“As much as I’d love to talk your lovely hands, I’d rather talk to that face of yours.”

“Hen-“ Your voice cracked from not being used in so long.

“Please,” He begged.

Every inch of your body quaked, the inevitable was here. He would see you, see how broken and lost you were, and wouldn’t be able to take it. The expiration date for your time together was today.

“Please, sweetheart.” He tried again, his voice no louder than a whisper.

You shook your head in silent agreement to his plea. Trembling, your hands pealed away from your face and finally you saw your boyfriend’s face fully. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead and there was an inkling of stubble making an appearance on his face. His eyes were bright and warm as always. You could just barely make out the brown amongst the blue at the top of his left eye.

“There you are,” Henry murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“Hen-“

“Shhhh... I know it’s not Friday but I wanted to see you. Ariel was worried. I was worried.”

“I’m so sorry-” You started as you felt tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, love. I’m happy to see your face. I would ask how you are, but I think I know. Have you been taking your meds?”

“I don’t remember. All I know my stomach is a bit upset,” you whispered as the first hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I’d reckon it’s been a few days then,” Henry sighed, ”Do you think could get up and make some green tea? That’s always helped in the past.”

You groaned, flopping backwards onto your bed. A few moments pass by in silence as you weighed your options.

“I can try.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, sweetheart,” admitted the blue eyed man,” How about you bring me with you?”

You nodded slowly. Henry was always good at reading you. It seemed that regardless of the distance between the two of you and the blurriness of the camera, his skill hadn’t waned. He knew you so well and right now you were thankful for that. There was so much you couldn’t say right now, you didn’t have the energy nor the clarity to do so.

Stretching your arms above your head, you winced at the stiffness in them. You had to do this, you had to fight that little voice in your head. You carefully moved yourself to the edge the bed. Taking a much needed deep breath, you forced your aching body to sit up. Gently, after a few moments, you maneuvered yourself to stand on your feet.

You glanced over at your computer screen and saw nothing but pride and encouragement in his blue eyes. It gave you the required push to grab your laptop and make your way towards the kitchen, tired body be damned. Normally, you feel safe and content in the silence with him. The freezing emptiness that had made it’s home amongst your bones and mortal flesh flourished in it.

“How’s filming going?” You croaked.

Henry was quick to fill the crushing silence “Remember that scene I mentioned to you last time…” His hearty timbre warming the outermost parts of your mind. Puttering around the kitchen, you put the kettle on and grabbed your favorite mug while listening. He could be speaking about blue-footed boobies and you would still be rapt.

Sooner than you would of liked, the kettle sung it’s annoying little tune. Carefully, you snatched it off the stove and poured into the waiting mug. You dropped the teabag in and leaned up against the counter. Glancing over at the computer, you saw Henry watching you with a smile on his face.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Henry beamed.

You tried to blink away the tears that remained in your eyes. “I boiled water. Nothing too special about that.”

“You know what I mean.”

Shakily setting the down the mug, you forced yourself to take some deep breaths, but it does nothing to stop the onslaught of tears. They blazed in hot trails down your cheeks.

“My brain doesn’t work, Hen. The fog sets in and it’s like I can’t do the simplest tasks. I can’t even just go through the motions,” You sobbed

“Oh, darling,” his voice barely a whisper and your gaze remained on the floor, arms wrapped around your quaking form.

“Nothing’s working…. I’m so tired of feeling like this. I don’t even feel alive anymore. Just empty and cold all the time.”

Silence fell over the two of you once again; only being pierced by your shuddering breaths as you tried regain control. It took a few moments to calm yourself. You brushed away the remaining tears and finally glance up at him.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize. I know you’re struggling. I’m worried about you being all alone right now with everything that’s going on,” Henry admitted,” How about you ask Ariel to come stay with you? Just until I finish filming.”

“I…I can do that.”

“I want you to know you don’t have to stick to our schedule. I know you like the consistency it brings, but I don’t mind if you call other times, love. I’d be happy to hear your voice more often.”

Nodding your head, you grabbed your abandoned tea and took a sip. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you too. We’re in this together, us against the problem.”

Somehow his words seemed to pierce at the remaining chill in your body. He was exactly what you needed, your lighthouse in the storm. No matter how far apart you may be, you’ll always find your way back to his loving embrace.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #real person fiction #celebrity fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #rpf

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lengthofropes · 3 years

Text

POVs series

Part 2: Sam

(Part 1: Cas is here)

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words: 3,3k | smr: Sam’s POV as Cas returned from the Empty | read on A03

rating: general | warnings: none I guess?

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I’ve never seen Cas drinking through a straw. I’ve never seen him having a milkshake either, but here he is. On the backseat of Impala, with Dean sitting next to him and laughing as hard as he possibly can.

“What is so funny?” Cas frowns at him, sounding sincerely confused. Dean can’t answer cause he’s literally choking with snickering. To be honest, yeah, this is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in years.

“You’re… you’re just slurping so loud!” Dean finally manages, wiping a laugh tear from his eye. "Cas, you gotta…” and he can’t finish the sentence because he's breathless with laugh again.

"I don't understand. Is this supposed to be a dessert?" Cas asks.

“Yeah, we can’t make a decent milkshake at home, so I thought you should try it here” Dean’s still giggling, but slowly calms down. “I know you like peanut butter with strawberry jelly, so maybe you'd like a strawberry milkshake too”

“Oh. This is too sweet”

And I swear Dean is slightly blushing now, I swear! This is even funnier than Cas slurping, but I’m holding back a smile cause yeah, this is too sweet.

“Yeah, umm… No, I just… I though you’d like it…”

“I like it, but it’s too sweet.” Cas looks at him and adds “The milkshake”

“Oh!…”

This time I can’t hold it back and just burst out with laughter.

“What’s so funny again?” Castiel is confused even more, I can see in a back view mirror.

“Nothing” - Dean to Cas.

“Shut up!” - Dean to me. But I just can’t stop.

“Gimme that!” - to Cas again, taking the milkshake from his hand and slurping even louder than Cas. "It's not too sweet it's just perfect!"

We haven't laughed like this for a long time, too long.

Through the months Castilel’s been absent, times were tough sometimes. Me and Dean, we had to sort out a lot of stuff, and believe me, it wasn’t that easy.

We talked about a lot of things, then. We started with the simplest.

What are we about to do now? Continue hunting? Get ourselves a decent jobs? Should we move somewhere else?

Move, huh. We weren’t ready to, at that point, guess we’re not ready still, not sure if we actually want to. Not sure, we know where to, how to, even. So many things have changed, we needed at least something to stay the same, stay solid for us. So we kind of… continued our usual routine in the bunker, with an exclusion of hunting for a while. We needed a rest. Probably, sticking up with the domestic stuff helped. You wake, make yourself breakfast, you eat, you read or watch movies, you make some calls, you exercise, you shower, you sleep. You do groceries, laundry, cleaning. You, being normal. Functional, pretty much. Slowly accepting your new world and the life you're now living. Like, piece by piece, understanding and acceptance comes.

Bunker felt so... I don’t know, remarkably unoccupied those days?

Weird, cause we used to live here on our own, sometimes for weeks. Sometimes even months. But now it was… I guess it’s just knowing, that this time someone won’t come back here, this knowing… it made it hard to walk those corridors. I missed Cas. I missed Jack, too. But… you know.

First month we stayed at the Bunker on our own. I mean, of course I went to see Eileen, it’s the first thing I wanted to do after everyone returned. I don’t even know how I can describe the feeling when I've read the message from her. I…

We were driving home. With Miracle, sleeping on the backseat. And Jack’s “I’m not coming home” still too loud in our ears. And my phone beeped. It was her. She was the first person we got a message from.

“Hey, Sam”

That’s it, “Hey, Sam” - and it’s easier to breathe. I remember, I couldn’t text her back, just kept looking and looking at my phone.

“Eileen?” Dean asked.

“Yeah… yeah. She’s… she texted”

I literally could add nothing to that. Dean just smiled, but didn’t say anything.

Rest of the road we called and called everyone, checking, laughing on loudspeaker, explaining, repeating the story about Chuck all over again. It was good. Those were the moments worth fighting for - hearing the voices of your family again. We were so happy, so relieved. And free, at last.

Next day the first thing Dean said to me, was that I need to go to see Eileen.

“Nope, now! Pack your shit and go! ‘Cmon, Sammy, do me a favor, huh?”

Not sure I need to explain the argument between us, cause I didn’t want to leave him alone. Or should I say, the argument inside my head between me and me, the one who cares about my brother, and the one who loves Eileen. But well, he insisted, he insisted hard. And I’d lie if I say, to see her alive and well, to finally hold her, wasn’t on top of my needs.

So yeah, Dean understood me even better than I did myself. He assured me, that everything’s gonna be fine, and he has work to do - go to the vet with Miracle and buy all the things we need to make the bunker a home for her, too.

I came back home in two days. Eileen went for a long trip to meet up with all her friends, and she promised to come to the bunker in few weeks. And stay for a little longer. Dean was pretty excited, though, even asked why the hell I didn’t bring her back with me immediately. So yeah, visiting her friends was a nice excuse to…

He needed time.

I didn’t tell him how heartbroken she was, when I told her Cas was gone.

He needed time. And I needed to stay close. Because even if I’ve lost my dearest friend, Dean have lost way more than that.

Dean seemed “normal”. Not sad, not unnaturally cheerful, not heartbroken, not… anything. And it was scary as hell. I didn’t try to talk to him. He didn’t try to talk to me. Geez, at that time, I didn’t even knew how exactly it all happened. How did Cas summoned the Empty? Why it took him? But I just waited. I just think it’s time, when…it’s time. Because one thing I knew for sure, something in Dean has changed. Changed very deep. And it wasn’t a grief, no, that was something else.

One morning I saw him looking at himself in a bathroom mirror. I just stood at he door, not to interrupt, cause the look on his face was… like he was examining himself, actually seeing something for the first time. Figuring, if he likes it or not.

So, I was there, and I was waiting for him to be ready to share. Giving him time and space.

Dean quit drinking.

He just stopped. I didn’t bring it to his attention, that I’ve noticed. It’s just one day I passed him a bottle of beer in the kitchen, and he mumbled something like “nah, I’m good”, and next day I saw him opening the fridge to pour himself some orange juice. And the next day, we were watching something, and I put a cold six pack on a table. He didn’t touch it. So I just quit offering.

I didn’t ask.

Now Dean is siting next to Cas on a backseat. Today, it’s been two weeks since Jack brought him back home, but Dean is still always around him, ready to catch him if he is dizzy again (yeah, it still happens sometimes), or he’s disoriented, or unexpectedly weak. Cas feels much better, though. But we constantly keep an eye on him. Well, I’d say I try to, but Dean doesn’t seem to let me, you know? Actually, it’s the first time he left the bunker in these two weeks. He rarely even leaves Cas’ room, though, maybe only when he cooks for him or goes to the library to grab another book. When Cas falls asleep, he walks out, and we usually talk in the kitchen or wherever.

When we go to sleep to our rooms, Dean doesn’t stays in his for long.

Two months ago he couldn’t sleep in his room, too, but the reasons were different. I remember constantly finding him in the morning, sleeping anywhere else but his bed. Face on the table in the kitchen, in the armchair in the library, on the couch in his cave. One time I’ve found him in the backseat of Impala in the garage. Dean used to drink himself to sleep, when times were tough. Now that he quit, he just stayed up until he passed out. No need to be genius, to figure he’s been having nightmares. No need to be genius, to figure what those nightmares were about. I still see the burning ceiling in my dreams, rarely, but yeah, I do.

And yeah, he told me he’s having nightmares. He told me not to worry about it, cause it’s a normal reaction, and it will pass.

What he didn’t told me, Jack did.

That day, I woke up and went to the kitchen to fill my water bottle and go for a jog. Jack was there. Just standing next to the fridge, drinking milk.

To be honest, at first I thought I was still dreaming. But then he raised his hand “hi” and I…

“Hi Sam!”

“Jack… is it really you? I mean… hey!” I’m not sure if I supposed to hug God but well, I did. And he hugged me back and for a moment it felt like everything is back as it used to be. As it used to be, yeah. Our kid drinking milk in our kitchen.

It was 6 in the morning, and I’ve had one of the most complicated conversations I’ve ever had in my life.

Jack told me everything. About the deal Cas made to save him. About the price of that deal.

About Dean praying to him every single night for the past weeks.

Jack was good, though, he coped very well with all his new responsibilities; hell is fine, Earth is fine, new Death is great, heaven is getting some renovations, and angels are finally calm and satisfied. The only problem is the Empty. Since he detonated himself in front of Cosmic Entity, he has no idea what was happening there. If Chuck was able to bring angels and demons from there, it changed, apparently, after the explosion, because the structure of the void has been damaged.

“Every time I try to reach it, it’s like I’m walking in the dark, like I’ve lost the path and I have no idea where I should go. I tried to summon the Entity, tried to open the portal - nothing works.” Jack looked concerned and dreary. “I don’t know what is happening there. I can only guess, everyone’s awake there. And they all are supposed to rest, supposed to sleep. If I made them suffer…” He looked at me with remorse in his eyes. “Castiel is there too. Sam, what if he…”

I felt sick. What if Jack’s right? What if all the dead angels and demons are going crazy in there? What if Cas sacrificed himself again only to suffer for the eternity?

“They all deserve to rest, and I need to make sure they are. And I want him back, Sam. I want my father back”

“Yeah… yeah. We all do. We just didn’t think it is somehow possible again”

“I’ll make it possible, I promise. I’ll keep trying. But I don’t know if I should answer to Dean’s prayers. I cannot fill him with hope, I need to make sure…”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think he’ll be able to handle it, if we end up failing…”

“He probably thinks I’m an asshole” Jack grinned bitterly. “Or that I’m too busy, or I forgot…”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t pray to Jack cause I missed him too bad, and I didn’t think I’ll ever see him again. And about Castiel, I just understood it’s impossible to bring him back, the second everyone else have returned. If that were possible, Jack would bring him back with everyone else, too. I didn’t realise there may be a different possibility.

“You really think you can do this? Bring him back?” I asked instead.

“I have to. And I will” He looked at me, stubborn and determined. “I just need time”

I took a deep breath. That was heavy. Seeing Jack again, knowing the truth about Cas. Stay silent for Dean. This is not the first time I have been hiding something from my brother. But at least now it is more than justified.

Next week Eileen arrived, and things got a little better. Dean was very happy to see her, though, like, really glad. The three of us been spending a lot of time together, constantly chatting about everything, watching movies, cooking, even playing board games. What can I say? Eileen is a ball of sunshine, of course everything’s better in her presence.

And I knew Dean felt better, too. Since there were no news from Jack in weeks, I decided it was a good tactic, to keep the bunker filled with people we love. So, I called everyone, and the next month was full with friendly visits.

Kaia and Claire came first and stayed for few days, they were on a hunt in a town nearby. Then Jody and Alex joined us. They both took two weeks leave from work and decided to spend some of it with us. Gotta say, I was upset when they left. Not least because Dean stopped making delicious “special occasion” pancakes for breakfast.

Charlie and Stevie called. They were on a vacation too - just left to travel around Europe for a month. Yeah, good for them. They promised to meet up with us as soon as they come back.

Donna couldn't make it to us, cause she was too busy. Things were relatively quiet in Stillwater, but her deputy got sick, so she had to work a little harder those days. So me, Eileen and Dean went to visit her instead. Those were two good days, a lot of hugs and donuts and the latest police gossips.

The next stop was Garth's house, and Eileen was extremely excited to meet the whole werewolf family. Little Cas and Sam grew bigger and Garth warned us to be careful now with their teeth. Good point. We didn't stay for long though, just for dinner, but Eileen is now Gertie's bestie, and Gertie calls her "giant's girlfriend".

Not long after we got back to bunker, Bobby stopped by for a beer. He was doing well, too, same as all the rest of the survived refugees from the Apocalypse world. They all quit hunting and settled in Lebanon, living their lives peacefully. It was good to see him, all clean and calm. He deserved his retirement.

That was, actually, the exact moment I realised I don’t want to hunt anymore. I’m done. No more blood on my hands.

Yeah, there’s still a lot of things to hunt in this world. But I just don’t want to. But we’re still the last men of letters. Why not to become…a mentors? Turn bunker into headquarters again? We can’t just leave all the lore, all the knowledge here, untouched.

This thought has firmly settled in the backyard of my mind. Yes, we'll come back to this later, for sure. When we will figure out all the things.

A nice month, yeah. Then Eileen went to help her friends with a little ghoul problem. I must say, I’m still overprotective, but at least I agreed to let her go by herself, since she gave me The Look. Okay, three of them will be there, one ghoul. They can handle it. Besides, “Girl needs to have fun sometimes, Sam!” and yes, she needed some space. And she promised to keep me updated.

It was the evening I’ve received “All done! That was too easy, I’m disappointed. We’re driving to their place now, it’s couple of hours. Facetime you soon!” No, I wasn’t relieved, because I wasn’t worried, honestly! But still went to Dean’s cave, where he was watching something, to tell him the news.

“Hey, got a message from Eileen, she kicked that ghoul’s ass”

“Ha! I didn't doubt her!” Dean grinned at me, making a sound of the TV quieter.

“Yeah, she probably will be home in few days. Listen…”

I didn’t finish. Bright light filled the corridor.

“Sam. Now” I couldn’t even see his face, but Jack’s voice was loud and high with emotion.

“What?? Jack??” I screamed back.

“What is happening?” Dean ran out the room, facing the light in the hallway. “Jack?? Sam, what’s going on?”

“Sorry, I didn't have time to warn you. It happened all at once. Sam, I'm coming in, I found the entrance. I can do it, I know. Explain to him, tell him…” And he disappeared.

We were standing there, shaking in shock.

“What the hell is going on? Explain me what? Sam? The fuck is happening? Was that Jack?”

I wasn’t ready for this, it happened not the way I imagined. I though I’ll have enough time for this conversation. What was I suppose to do? Explain? How??

Dean was looking at me, eyes wide with concern. Okay, okay… just gonna tell it the way it is, calm and slow.

“Yeah, it was Jack…” And my mouth turned dry.

“….and?” Dean kept looking at me “Explain what? Sam, cmon! He was worried, goddamit! What’s going on?”

“Okay, okay… He, umm. For the past months he’s been trying to get to The Empty”

Dean was speechless. He turned pale.

“He couldn’t get there, he couldn’t even summon the Entity to talk. He thought it was because of the explosion. But he, umm, he kept on trying. He promised me he will keep trying.”

“He… promised you?”

“Yeah… He appeared here, a little more then a month ago. He…” It was hard to look into my brother’s eyes, but somehow, I did it. “Dean, he was trying to bring Cas back. All this time”

His expression was unreadable. Something between anger, fear, disbelief and shock.

“And you didn’t tell me…”

“Because he asked. Because he wasn’t sure how long will it take. He wanted to tell you, when he’s ready to do it. And I didn’t want to tell you too, because if we fail at this…”

“Okay, shut up” He leaned into the wall, all trembling, trying to calm his breath. “He said… he said “Now!” Does it mean… Sammy, what does it mean?”

There was a plea in his eyes. So much fear. And a plea.

“Yes.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You've heard him”

Dean grabbed my shoulder.

“Sammy…”

The bunker started to shake - the walls, the floor, as like an earthquake.

“Sammy… the dungeon”

And we ran, as fast as we could.

So yeah, today we finally went to buy Cas some closes, although he seems to like all those Dean’s hoodies, he looks like an E.T., when he wears them.

Nothing extraordinary, just basic stuff like jeans and shirts and sweaters. Though Dean bought him a cowboy hat, and I swear I could hear quiet “Not again..” from Cas. But he scored with picking one of the world’s ugliest sweaters that I’ve ever seen - blue, with a giant yellow bee on the front. Dean’s face was pure shock when he saw that one, and he immediately put it out of the shopping basket, shaking his head. But the second Cas got distracted with his shoelaces, Dean put that ugly piece back and quickly went to the checkout.

Now he’s drinking strawberry milkshake in the backseat.

It’s a movie night tonight. Eileen makes popcorn.

#destiel fic #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fieryfrankie #seraphcastiel #becauseofthebowties #casjpg #userdainty #holmesemrys #scottstiles #ugh sorry probably lot of mistakes and typos here:)))#I'm too lazy....dasdfghjkl #and there's a lot of missing pieces here. I saved some explanations for the further chapters ggggg:)#fic tag

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anigodd · 4 years

Text

The Deal

Here it is, the crossover I said I would do like 3 weeks ago. Sorry about that. anyway, first and foremost, I’m a Captainsparklez stan, so he is the main character. Also, if you don’t know anything about Mianite, this aint for you, sorry.

Let’s get started! It’s super long, but enjoy!

Summary:

Jordan would not consider himself a cruel man, but when he saw that children, especially Tubbo, were being forced to fight in a war? Well, if he made a seemingly harmless deal with JSchlatt in order to...persuade him to end the war, then that was his own decision to justify. After all, what was a war without a little bit of psychological torture?

Most of the time, people forget that Jordan, better known as Captainsparklez or just The Captain, was old. I don’t mean in his 40s or 50s, I mean thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of years old. He’s fought for balance for as long as his lady had accepted him as her Champion millennia ago. Most don’t know simply because they don’t ask.

Most of the time, people forget that he is not entirely human. He’s immortal—it come with the job description—and has spent so much time in the End that it was bound to affect him eventually. His Lady, ever the one to always worry about him, changed him ever so slightly so that he was not susceptible to most human weaknesses: he didn’t need to sleep as much, better stamina, strength, etc. He complained that she did not have to do that, to save her power for something more important than him, but she stared him straight in his eyes and said with such conviction and with such sadness in her eyes that he was stunned,

“You are the most important thing to me, Jordan. Please, never forget that.”

He never did.

Most of the time, people forget that Jordan was dangerous. You don’t remain the Champion of the Goddess of Balance without having a few perks, nor do you simply kill a god and not absorb some of their power. In his dreams, he could see snippets of the future, not like his Lady, but just enough to influence his actions in wars or in everyday life to help maintain balance. Jordan could feel a deep ache in his soul when balance was disrupted. He can travel to and fro from the end without the need for a portal—he teleported like an enderman (he wouldn’t stop scaring Tom with this new-found power for days). He knew how to use a bit of magic, some was taught to him by the Ianite in Ruxomar. Just simple spells, such as small barriers or being able to communicate with endermen. He really had to hone his magic at some point. What was most interesting was his control over some of the Darkness’ domain. He never figured that he gained a little bit of something from killing World Historian all those years ago, he just thought he was mentally prepared for the next years to come.

Turns out he was wrong again.

The Darkness, before their final battle, had brought this to his attention. The deity would always poke into his head and whisper to him, but Jordan would push him out of his head when it got too much for him. After a few times, the Darkness said that Jordan had more power over his mind than he thought. The deity’s voice sounded intrigued by this development and soon worked harder to get Jordan on his side to no avail. However, what the Darkness said lingered in the back of his mind until one day, after the war, his Lady brought it up.

They were quietly sitting in her temple in the End when she spoke.

“Captain, I don’t want to pry, but I know that you’ve been thinking about what the Darkness told you and, if you wanted, I could help you control it?” She hesitantly offered. Jordan froze.

The Darkness told him a lot of things. He promised him weapons of infinite power, nights of peaceful rest, a break from the voices in his mind—a break from fighting. He promised him a peaceful life if he joined him. The Captain composed himself but stopped.

‘Control what?’ he thought. Now he was confused. It must have shown on his face because a smile blossomed on Ianite’s face.

“I wanted to teach you how to control your mind. The Darkness noticed you were able to block him from your mind. That does not come from years of experience, Captain. It’s more of a gift...or perhaps a curse. This power is why, when I was being influenced, I was unable to communicate with you,” she explained.

“Unable to talk to me? Why? I never intentionally pushed you away,” Jordan questioned. He would never ignore his Lady, even if she wasn’t really herself.

She chuckled. “I know you wouldn’t, Jordan. Thank you for that. What I mean is that you subconsciously blocked out all influences if the Darkness, including me.”

She watched as his eyes widened, but he nodded slowly in understanding. He waited for her to continue before he asked his questions; she could feel his curiosity.

“I could either help you control and develop this power, or you could leave it as a sort of unconscious barrier for your mind. There are many aspects that come with this gift, not just protection for yourself. If you wish, we could start immediately?” Ianite inquired.

She hoped he accepted. The Captain was like a son to her and it would mean the world to Ianite if she could finally teach him something as a mother would teach her son to ride a bike. She wanted to see him grow into his power and watch with pride as he mastered magic. Yes, she hoped he would accept.

Ianite watched as he thought about it. He stared at her. She could see his burning curiosity and the look of hope on her face. The truth was, the Captain craved knowledge more than power. He wanted to know anything and everything that he could, and this was something he wanted to learn. It may come in handy in the future.

He nodded. “When do you want to start, M’lady?” he asked with a smile.

She grinned. “We can start immediately.”

Oh, she couldn’t wait to see what he would become. No matter what, she would be proud.

—————— Nobody knew the extent of Jordan’s power or what he was trained to do. Rumors spread of the great hero who learned how to harness old magic from the teachings of the Goddess herself. Others say he went mad with power and tormented her with visions of destruction. Some say he does not look human anymore. Some say he guards her temple in the End and is still loyal to her thousands of years later. Others say he got to live his life in peace after training.

Some of those rumors are true. After all, all myths come from a seed of truth. Nowadays, though, The Captain does live in relative peace. He gets to participate in tournaments, such as the newest one called Minecraft Championship, where he really just plays for fun. He never got to make friends or have fun for his years under the gods, but the Universe has calmed down and his Lady wanted to see him have fun and socialize.

Most of them recognized him or had heard of him. He was always so uncomfortable with attention or praise but thankfully—THANKFULLY—their starry-eyed looks stopped after a while. Unless, of course, he said something that they recognized as one of his catchphrases all hell broke loose but...well...it was pretty funny to watch them yell and laugh good-naturedly when he said something like that.

Some asked him a million questions about his life or his adventures, especially this...child? His name was Tubbo and, apparently, Jordan was his role-model. He was flattered and a bit flustered. Most people that came up to him were older than 16 and usually asked about his fighting tactics or the wars he fought in. But this kid asked about none of those. Tubbo was the nicest kid he had ever met and tried to give him the best answers that he could, even if the were a little vague at some points—he didn’t want to scar the boy.

Tubbo didn’t seem to care. He always stared at him with the most excited smile and genuinely interested expression that he nearly cries thinking about it. Only a few people look at him so kindly it hurts. Tubbo is always bursting with questions and the Captain is always happy to answer. It became a thing for Tubbo to follow him around, prompting Jordan to call him ‘duckling’ in his mind.

He has started to become a bit worried about Tubbo and his loud friend, Tommy, though. The two are usually so boisterous and loud that it was hard to miss them. Nowadays, when he sees them, the two teens are more subdued and they look....exhausted. He’s seen that look. He knows they are fighting a war they cannot win.

Jordan knows he has to put an end to the fighting. If not for Tubbo, then for his own peace of mind. He finds Jschlatt on his own private server and strikes a sort of a deal with the man.

His smile is ice and his eyes are as dark as the Void when they shake hands. Purple tendrils and sparks emerge from their handshake, giving Jordan access to Jschlatt’s every move. The magic let Schlatt know that there was no backing out of this deal.

Their souls were intertwined until the deal was done. —————— Nobody knew that Jordan was a deal maker. Not that he did it much in the first place—there wasn’t anything that he wanted from others and he hated exercising his power over others.

This time, however, was an exception.

He knew what Schlatt had done to Tubbo and the others on Dream’s SMP. He knew that they were hurting. He hated seeing families torn apart and children being forced to grow up and fight. They should’ve had a childhood. They shouldn’t have to be forced into a war, and for what? Power? Glory? Honor? No honorable soldier would endorse using children to fight. No honorable leader or nation would do so either.

He noticed the shadows on the walls growing and harmful magic beginning to swarm around him.

Jordan heaved a sigh. He had to calm down before he did anything he would regret. He looked back at Schlatt from where he was hidden in the shadows. The hybrid was sat at his desk in the White House, languidly drinking from a glass as if there was no war going on; as if he isn’t responsible for the suffering going on in his lands.

He gave Schlatt two weeks to fulfill his end of the deal before Jordan fulfilled his end, but it doesn’t seem like Schlatt was even slightly worried about their agreement.

The Captain watched as he filled out paperwork and discarded peace treaties or ideas for that may improve Manburg. The lack of care for his nation made Jordan’s blood boil.

How careless.

How cruel.

How sickening. —————

Most know that Jordan, at his core, is kind-hearted and humble. He would never attack without a reason, but even before then, he would try to negotiate. It’s why he has been the Champion of Balance for so long: it’s in his nature.

That being said, Jordan is not a cruel or sadistic man. But to him, this deal was important to him. It would bring peace and protection to those in Dream’s land. They have been fighting for too long and are beginning to lose themselves. It had to be stopped.

As another few days went by, and soon, with 5 days left for Schlatt to fulfill his end of the deal, Jordan knew he had to give a bit of an....incentive to Schlatt.

He smiled. While he hated using his powers over the mind, now looked like a good time for some practice. The Captain waited until Schlatt was asleep to enter his mind. Since their souls were intertwined because of the deal, his plan was much simpler. His eyes glowed a deep purple.

After all, what was a little bit of psychological torture on one person if it benefitted the masses?

The Captain left the man to sleep. He had a feeling he’s be hearing from Schlatt in the next few days. And maybe, if Schlatt heard clocks ticking a bit louder than normal and seemed to echo in his mind, well, that was for Jordan to know, wasn’t it? ————————

Schlatt woke up with a killer headache and an unsettling feeling. The hairs on the back if his neck stood up and his shoulders tensed. Was he being watched? He looked around his room with a steady gaze. The room was quiet save for the birds outside and his clock. Had it always been that loud?

No matter. He couldn’t see anyone but that didn’t mean he was safe. Maybe he should have Tubbo stay by his side for the day until his paranoia passed?

Something caught his eye. He could have sworn he saw the shadows grow in his room after that thought. He shrugged to himself. He definitely needed more sleep if he was starting to see shadow demons.

Ha.

He took a deep breath and began to get ready for the day. He had paperwork to do and meetings to plan. If Manburg were to be under his rule, there had to be a few new....rules put into place.

‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘New regulations wouldn’t hurt anybody.’

He walked down the hallways of the White House quicker than he usually does. Why does he feel like someone was watching him? Was Pogtopia planning an attack? The thought made him snort.

‘Right, like they could plan a decent attack,’ he thought.

When he looked outside to where the seats in front of the podium were located, he didn’t see a nice grassy field with a peaceful waterfall. Instead, he saw ashes falling from the sky like snow, a red haze filling the air, and fires burning with. The birds chirping distorted into echoed screams of agony. The podium was blown to bits and Tubbo...oh god....—

He blinked and the scenery reverted to normal.

“Sir?” a small voice asked from behind him.

Schlatt jumped and tried to control his breathing. When did he begin to hyperventilate? Why was he shaking?

He stared into the concerned and slightly wary eyes of Tubbo. Jesus, the kid was quiet.

He let out a breath and put his hand on his chest.

“Christ, Tubbo, you’re gonna give this old man a heart attack one day,” he tried to joke.

Tubbo cracked a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are you alright, Schlatt? You were staring out at the lawn like someone died.” Tubbo said.

Schlatt froze. He did see someone dead. But it wasn’t a memory, what was it?

He looked at Tubbo and put his hand on the kid’s shoulder. Geez, he was just a kid, wasn’t he.

“Whatever happens, Tubbo, just know that it’s not your fault,” is all he said before walking into his office and closing the door. Tubbo was so confused, but Schlatt has done weirder and so he let it go. He wanted to see Tommy.

The clock in Schlatt’s office echoed in his mind as he worked. ——————

The one thing that Jordan hated was being mistaken for a kind-hearted fool.

He watched as Schlatt worked for another 3 days while enduring the visions of what may become of Manburg.

He watched as Schlatt ignored the shadows on the walls and the ticking of his clock.

He watched as Schlatt jumped in his seat when the whispers of the End began to echo in his ears.

He watched as Schlatt could not sleep for the rest of the 5 days.

He watched as the man slowly broke down. The visions kept him awake, the clocks were too loud, the whispers were in a language he couldn’t understand and the feeling of being watched drove him to the brink of insanity.

The others began to notice his quickly deteriorating health.

Schlatt had dark bags under his eyes that nearly looked like bruises. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and nearly broke all of the clocks in the White House. While talking to someone, his eyes always darted to the corners of the rooms. Most worryingly, he would just stare at something that looked normal, say an open field, and nearly put himself into a panic attack. The residents may not like him but they hated seeing anyone reduced to shambles. They tried to help him but all they get is incoherent mumbles or snippets of what may be Schlatt’s imagination.

Whatever it was, it had to stop.

The first time Wilbur heard of Schlatt’s health, he laughed. He laughed so hard he cried and couldn’t breath for at least 5 minutes. Tommy and Tubbo joined in, though their laughter was much weaker. The times after hearing about it, though, something changed in Wilbur. He could see how it was scaring Tubbo and at the rare times Niki visited, she expressed her genuine concerns over Schlatt.

“We may not like him too much, Wilbur, but you haven’t seen him. The poor man looks like he’s gonna run himself to his grave. We’re all worried about him,” is what she said to him when he asked why they were so concerned about him.

Wilbur wanted to see how Schlatt was fairing. Techno didn’t seem to care too much but he seemed interested in what happened to Schlatt.

“I’ll go along only because I wanna see what he looks like when he walks,” was Techno’s justification to visiting the White House. Okay then, Techno.

Tommy was coming along as well. He was practically dying from curiosity, but he also wanted to see Tubbo. Wilbur didn’t question his logic either.

However, they didn’t have to sneak into Manburg like they had planned to. They received an invitation to an SMP meeting in the community center in 3 hours. Everyone on the server had to attend, including Dream. This surprised Wilbur as he held the letter in his hands. Why would Dream have to attend if Schlatt was calling this meeting?

“Kinda sus of him, not gonna lie,” Techno said from behind him.

Wilbur hummed and turned around.

“Do you think we should go?”

Techno looked at him, practically expressionless. Wilbur stared back--- he was used to waiting for an answer.

“Tommy will complain for days if we don’t go, so yeah, we’re going,” is what Techno said eventually.

Wilbur sighed and crumpled the letter. He looked back at Techno, who was starting to head to the entrance of their ravine.

“Can you wait for Tommy and I before you go off and commit war crimes?” He joked.

Techno stopped.

“BruuUhhhH.”

Wilbur just laughed and went to fetch the blond gremlin from his room.

He just hoped this meeting didn’t go to shit. ———————— Schlatt felt like shit. He didn’t know what was happening to him or why but he just wanted it to stop.

Every corner he turned there was some depiction of an explosion or a massacre in that area. Quiet rooms were too loud with the whispers and the clocks. He kept the lights on at all times.

What was breaking him down the most was the constant feeling of being watched. Even with multiple people in the room, it was like a predator was watching its prey from afar. Waiting to pounce. He was at his wits end, but finally, hours before he called the SMP meeting, he got answers.

He was trying to do paperwork but was really just staring at the same paragraph for an hour. His mind was muddled and he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

He was so tired but every time he closed his eyes, it was another scene of death and destruction. He hands shook so badly that he had to put his pen down and place his head in his hands.

“You seem to be struggling, Schlatt,” a voice said from behind him. That feeling of being watched increased tenfold, causing Schlatt to tense and look behind him.

The Captain was standing in the corner of the room. The shadows obscured most of his figure but he could see his eyes—what happened to his eyes?—and his unnerving smile.

Schlatt tired to summon some of his dignity.

“Captain! Long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

Jordan’s expression didn’t change, but the room darkened a bit. Schlatt noticed.

“Have you been doing that? It’s been driving me nuts!” he angrily exclaimed.

Jordan cocked his head to the side.

“Have you forgotten about our deal, Schlatt?” Is all he asked. Why was his voice suddenly deeper? It rumbled in his ears and was vaguely threatening. His heart rate picked up and he had a feeling that Jordan was not just some guy he made a deal with.

He steeled his nerves. There is no way that Jordan is anything but human. He looked towards the Captain who was impossibly still with his creepy smile.

“No, I didn’t forget about it. I just....had better things to do,” was his defense. That apparently was the wrong answer.

Jordan was suddenly right in front of him, smile gone and eyes staring straight into him. Schlatt’s instincts immediately screamed ‘danger!’ and ‘run!’ but something was keeping him in place. He felt his heart pounding in his chest but he still couldn't move away. Purple eyes bored into his own.

Jordan placed a deceptively gentle hand on his cheek.

“I don’t like being mistaken for a fool, Schlatt. We made this deal to benefit both of us, yet you exploit my charity,” he patronized. The power radiating from those words nearly had Schlatt tumbling to his knees but he stood firm.

“I’ll give you 24 hours, but,” his hand suddenly gripped his face tightly and forced Schlatt to look at him. What he saw terrified him.

“If you continue to fail to uphold your end of the deal, then, well,” he released his hold on Schlatt, “I hope you’ll be able to get used to the way your currently living,” he threatened. The Captain straightened and gave him yet another unnerving smile.

Out of nowhere, he summoned an intricate clock and began to wind it. It was a beautiful black with purple and gold accents. The outer design of the clock resembled...scales? At the center, there was an ender eye. The numbers weren’t exactly numbers but looked like writing one would find in an enchantment table. How in the hell did Jordan get a clock like this?

He finished winding the clock and Schlatt thought he was going to place it down on his desk. He was wrong once again. A deep purple aura surrounded the clock and it disappeared with a burst of particles. Unfortunately, he could still hear it ticking next to his ear.

“This should remind you of the limited time that you have,” he began to back away before he stopped and turned around with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I’m not a cruel man, JSchlatt. But I do believe in an eye for an eye. I hope you make the right decision,” he said, and he was gone in a flash of purple.

Schlatt shakily sat down—when had he stood up?—and began to draft a peace treaty for Manburg. The writing was shaky and nearly illegible, but it would have to do. Then, he called a meeting for all of SMP to attend.

He sat for 3 hours listening to the incessant ticking. It was becoming more and more distorted in his mind as the hours ticked by. ——————— Once everyone was seated at a round table in the community house, they all looked towards Schlatt for an explanation.

The atmosphere was tense, mainly from Wilbur and Tommy, while the rest tried to sit as comfortably as they could. Dream was practically lounging in his chair.

“So, Schlatt,” Wilbur practically spat his name, “what did you call this oh so important meeting for?” he asked and crossed his arms.

It was his first time seeing Schlatt since his exile and he felt...just a little bit of pity for him. His clothes were rumpled as if he had slept in them, his eyes were red—he looked about ready to fall asleep but always jerked awake at the last second. His eyes were darting to the corners of the room. Wilbur looked around but found nothing out of the ordinary. He could see the others glancing around the room as well, unnerved by Schlatt’s paranoia.

Schlatt, even though he was incredibly shaky and oh so tired, stood up. He was still the President, damn it. All eyes were on him as he cleared his throat.

“I have called this meeting to.....to....” he was having second thoughts. Did he really want to give up his power over Pogtopia and Manburg? He enjoyed the chaos and having control over everything. He wasn’t ready to give this up yet.

He saw the shadows move and the Captain manifested from the shadows. The ticking was nearly deafening. Jordan’s eyes were deadly, his smile nowhere to be found. He looked non-human without his glasses on.

Schlatt was so focused on his appearance that he missed when the Captain drew his sword—a near black blade that looked wickedly sharp. The handle was intricately carved with ancient spells and magic seals. Schlatt noticed too late that Jordan had heard his thoughts.

The Captain rushed at him with his sword raised and cold eyes boring into his soul. HIs smile was nearly feral as he charged. Schlatt shrieked and stumbled backwards into the wall and raised his hands to defend himself from the blows-

But nothing came.

He shakily looked around and noticed that the room was giving him nervous looks. Quakity and Niki were nearly out of their seats while Dream was sitting straight in his chair. Schlatt shakily let out a breath and began to stand.

“Schlatt...” Tubbo began but Schlatt waved him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just my imagination,” he easily lied.

Those in attendance saw right through this lie, but decided that once he begins talking, they may get an explanation.

Schlatt took a breath and tried to calm his racing heart. He was so tired. His whole body shook with adrenaline and exhaustion and, god, he just wanted to sleep but he couldn’t. Not with the state he was in now. The Captain’s words echoed in his mind: ‘I hope you can get used to this.’

Schlatt decided that he couldn’t live like this and made his decision. He sat down and took out the drafts of the peace treaty and set them on the table.

“The fuck’s all this?” Tommy quietly mutters while picking up a paper and scrutinizing it. But of course, Tommy’s version of quiet is still decently loud.

“It’s a peace treaty. If you read through this and sign, Manburg and Pogtopia will cease their fighting and hold another election. This time, however, two partied cannot combine their votes,” Schlatt explained. He saw the room looking at him with mixed reactions.

Some looked relieved that the fighting would be over, others were skeptical, and some looked elated at the chance to live peacefully again. Wilbur, however, was not convinced. He was looking at Schlatt skeptically while reading the treaty silently.

‘He’s looking for a loophole,’ was whispered in his ear. It took all of Schlatt’s willpower not to look to his left in fear of what he may see. He could hear the smile on the Captain’s face.

Finally, Wilbur spoke.

“And why should we believe that you would peacefully give up your power? We know that you love the fighting, the wars, the power,” his voice rose as he continued, “why should we trust anything you say?” he finished with a shout.

Wilbur was breathing heavily and glaring at Schlatt. The atmosphere became almost unbearably tense until Jordan finally decided to step in.

He had been silently watching from the shadows, making sure Schlatt stayed in check but also to make sure that the deal was completed. There was mistrust in the air, and to be honest, he was getting impatient. Jordan really wanted to get the treaty over with and go home, take a nap, and preferably not get up for three days.

“Schlatt’s telling the truth,” he says before he steps out of the shadows. He nearly chuckles at the bewildered looks he gets as he steps into view.

A very eager Tubbo is soon clinging to his waist and looking up at him with such relief that he does not regret even the smallest bit of what he’s done to Schlatt. He noticed the boy looked close to tears and was starting to bury his face into his coat.

Jordan placed a gentle hand on Tubbo’s head and he flinched. Oh, he was about to murder whoever hurt his boy. His Lady’s influence reminded him that no, no matter how much it would have been justified, he could not kill someone in this land. He took a deep breath and looked up.

“Does anyone have any questions or will you sign the contract?” he said more as a statement than a question. Tubbo’s arms tightened around his waist. Jordan should really ask him what’s been going on; he wanted to help him and Tommy in any way he could.

Dream, however, had a question.

“How did you get into my server? You’re not whitelisted and I know for a fact that Tubbo doesn’t have the admin power to invite you” Dream said, though he sounded a tad accusatory.

Did he not see what was going on in his server? Did he not care that people were being traumatized? Did he not care that they were losing hope?

The Captain chuckled. The sound caused everyone to shiver and for Schlatt to shrink in his seat. He noticed the clock had stopped ticking and his heart sunk. Fuck, was he too late?

“Dream,” the Captain took off his glasses and his whole visage changed.

His warm brown eyes were now a deep purple that held a small glow to them. His hair was impossibly dark—it looked like of you were put put your hand on it, it would sink right in like a shadow. The outside around his eyes were veins of crying obsidian, a stark contrast to his skin. His clothes floated almost as if he were in water and the pure power of magic that radiated from him was nearly stifling.

“I don’t need your permission to enter your lands when I feel that ethical and moral laws are being broken. I knew something was wrong when Tubbo stopped talking passionately about anything and everything. I knew something was wrong when those from here flinched and loud noises. And I knew something was wrong when you didn’t seem to care,” he spat.

He gently pulled Tubbo from around his waist and walked next to Schlatt. The air around him rippled like water and the shadows grew.

“Now,” he purred. “Schlatt and I made a bit of a deal. A peace treaty that stopped the fighting on these lands that also prohibited future wars in exchange for books on basic magic,” he explained.

The room listened intently.

“But,” he dramatically sighed and Schlatt tried to make himself as small as possible.

“Schlatt here didn’t feel like adhering to our deal very much, so I gave him a bit of incentive,” he stopped there and looked at the room as if that explained everything.

“What does that have to do with my lands?” Dream asked.

Jordan paused. How could he say this as delicately as possible? He sighed and cleaned his glasses in his coat.

“You have to understand that I’m not a cruel man, but I hate being mistaken for a fool. I told Schlatt this when he had five days remaining to complete his end of the deal. If you remember, he may have started acting a bit...differently?” he began.

Niki gasped.

“You were doing that to him? Making him go nearly insane?!” she exclaimed. While she may not like Schlatt, that was cruel of him.

“Yeah, we were really worried for him. What did you do to him, man?” Quakity asked. He was really not liking this side of the Captain.

“I think it was perfectly reasonable, especially when the lives of children were on the line. Honestly, you all should be ashamed of yourselves. Making children fight—who does that?!” he angrily exclaimed.

“They wanted to fight!” Wilbur defended.

Jordan’s dark eyes rounded on him and while he would never admit it, Wilbur was terrified. There was such resentment and disgust in his expression that he almost regretted the war. Almost.

“Have you ever once asked then what they wanted? You’re living in a hole for my goddesses’ sake! Tommy looks like he hasn’t eaten in days and Tubbo is on the brink of tears! Are you so blinded by greed that you can’t see you’re hurting them?” his voice rose as he pointed out the obvious states of the teens.

Tommy was so conflicted. He wanted to defend himself and Wilbur, but he was intimidated by the Captain. He usually never cared for being weaker than other people, but he felt if he used his usual snark he’d be vaporized or something. He looked to Tubbo. His best friend was struggling to keep his emotions in check ever since the Captain arrived, but he knew Tubbo adored the man to high heaven. If Tubbo trusted the Captain’s judgement, then so would he.

Wilbur hadn’t spoken yet, so he did.

“Wil,” he began quietly.

Wilbur turned towards the blond. He hoped he wouldn’t say anything that would confirm what Jordan said.

“Yes, Tommy?” wilbur sounded near accusatory.

The teen but his lip and looked towards Techno, who sat next to him. The pink haired man gave him a subtle nod to continue.

Tommy let put a deep breath. Techno was always right, wasn’t he.

“I.....I want to go home,” he admitted.

Wilbur was shocked. Go home? Why? They were fighting for their country back and Tommy wanted to go home?

“Why would you want to go home, Tommy? I’m so close to getting L’manburg back! If we could just-“

“I don’t want to fight anymore!” he cried. The room went silent.

“I don’t want to fight, Wil....” he said again in a small voice.

Wilbur didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell if he was angry or heartbroken at Tommy’s admission. He didn’t want to fight?

“We can go home if you want, Tommy. Just let me call Phil and we can head over once the meeting is done,” Techno said softly.

Tommy nearly cried in relief. He would get to see Phil again and sleep in a proper bed in a comfy house. He hugged Techno tightly, not caring if it ruined his alpha male reputation.

“Thanks, Techno,” he shakily said.

Tommy looked towards Tubbo.

“Do you want to come along, Big T?” he asked with a small smile.

Tubbo hesitated. He wanted to go with Tommy, he really did, but he just felt...safer with the Captain. Jordan must have sensed his conflict because he immediately changed the conversation.

“So,” he drawled and garnered everyone’s attention, “will you sign or subject Schlatt to some more mind games for the rest of his life?” he asked. It wasn’t a threat, but they knew a promise when they saw one.

“How do we know that you’ll continue to pester Schlatt and not just leave him be?” Quakity asked.

“Please, no, just sign the treaty! He’s legit, he’ll keep going!” Schlatt begged.

He was right, Jordan would have to keep this up if the deal wasn’t finished.

“He’s right. The deal wasn’t just a simple handshake. Our souls are temporarily connected until the deal is completed. Until then, I have power over him,” he revealed.

Quakity’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and immediately signed the treaty. Schlatt nearly sobbed in relief. He knew there was a reason Quakity was in his cabinet.

He passed the treaty to his left and it soon traveled all around the table until it got to Wilbur. He glared at the treaty, then at Schlatt.

“If this is a joke, I’ll kill you myself,” he warned.

Schlatt gave a shaky smile.

“Believe me, I’m really not joking about this.”

Wilbur stared at him a bit longer before signing and passing the paper on. It finally reached Schlatt.

He was about to sign when a pen was in front of his face. He looked at the Captain in confusion.

“This pen will help end the deal. It’s all magicy and stuff, pretty swick,” he explained with a less menacing smile.

Schlatt instantly took the pen and signed his name. The ink glowed red and blue before fading. Schlatt slumped in his seat, unconscious. Some panicked and went to check on him but Jordan stopped them.

“He’s fine, just overtired. He’ll wake up in a day or two with a completely restored mindset,” he soothed.

They nodded but still picked him up and took him to a room with a bed so he could at least rest comfortably.

Jordan clapped his hands together and smile happily.

“Welp, I think that settles everything for today! Unless you have any questions, you guys are good to leave,” he cheerily said.

Some immediately left while others took their time leaving. Niki hugged Tubbo and Tommy before leaving while Techno left to wait outside for Tommy. Wilbur, Tubbo, Tommy, and Jordan were the only ones left in the room.

It seemed like nobody would talk first, so Jordan took a seat next to Tubbo.

“You can go with Tommy, if you want Tubbo. I won’t be offended,” he softly offered.

Tubbo glanced unsurely between Tommy and Jordan.

“Could I...speak with Tommy in private? Please?” he asked.

Jordan nodded and motioned for Wilbur to follow him outside. The brunet hesitated, but with a stern glance he was leaving the room.

Tommy and Tubbo sat in tense silence before they spoke.

“Tommy-“

“Tubbo-“

The tension broke as they laughed with each other. Tommy began before Tubbo could say anything.

“Do you not want to come with me and Phil?” he hesitantly asked. There was an undertone of hurt but Tommy was trying to understand. This was Tubbo, and he trusted Tubbo.

Said best friend looked away as he fidgeted with his fingers and sighed. Tommy felt his chest tighten.

“Come on, just say what you want. I’m a man!” he joked, but it fell a little flat.

Tubbo looked at him.

“It’s nothing against you, Tommy, or-or even Techno or Phil, but, I just....I dunno, I feel....safer? I guess? With the Captain cuz he’s just great and he listens really well and you know how I get sometimes but-“

“Big T you don’t have to defend him,” Tommy cuts him off. It’s not often that Tommy is serious, but he was now.

“I want you to be happy, Tubbo. If you feel safer with the Captain than with us, I guess that’s ok. Just don’t forget about me, yeah? I’ll fucking kill ya, bitch,” he admitted.

Tubbo felt incredibly guilty for leaving his best friend, but he wasn’t staying with the Captain for weeks! Maybe just a few days. He said none of those though and settled for a hug. He buried his face into his friend’s neck and felt Tommy clutch at his shirt.

“Thank you, Tommy, for understanding,” he quietly said.

“No problem, Big T.”

They stayed like that until there was knocking at the door. Jordan popped in with an apologetic look.

“Just wanted to check in. Techno is getting antsy and Wilbur looks ready to demonetize something,” he said to the teens.

Tommy and Tubbo got up from their seats and headed to the door when Jordan stopped them. They looked at the man questioningly but he held no malice on his face. Instead, he was looking at them with some form of understanding.

“Tubbo, whenever you want to visit Tommy, just tell me and I’ll make a portal to Phil’s place. I know you’ll miss him,” he said softly.

Tubbo’s eyes widened and he looked towards Tommy with the biggest smile that the blond couldn’t help but smile back. Tubbo tackled Jordan in a hug.

“Thank you, Captain! Thank you so much!” he exclaimed.

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck and stood a bit awkwardly, “Yeah, thanks.”

Jordan smiled. “Of course.”

There was shouting from outside.

“I think Phil is finally here,” Jordan said.

They peeked outside the room and saw Phil hitting Wilbur with his sandal and the desperate attempts to deflect by Wilbur. Techno was cackling while taking screenshots.

Jordan turned to Tommy.

“I think they’re ready to take you home. Take care, kid,” he said as he nudged Tommy towards the group.

Tommy looked towards Tubbo and they shook hands.

“See you in a few, Big T.”

“As always, Tommy.”

They watched as he ran towards Techno and began to take screenshots as well with a growing smile on his face. His signature loud laugh seemed to brighten the area. Tubbo watched fondly for a bit before Jordan’s hand was on his shoulder. He looked up at Jordan who stared at him with a soft smile.

“Let’s go home, Tubbo. M’lady is eager to meet you,” he said.

Tubbo immediately lit up.

“Does she like bees?! Could you teach me how to do cool magic stuff too?!” he excitedly asked.

Jordan laughed as he made a portal and stepped through with Tubbo.

-----------

There are many rumors surrounding the legendary Captain, but there are a few things for certain.

Even the most kind-hearted people can be cruel, and they can enjoy their own cruelty.

#mianite #jordan maron #captainsparklez #mianitian isles #dream smp #jschlatt #bamf jordan #i made him go a little feral i just love mind games he kinda drives Schlatt to insanity

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Note

can i ask hcs for tamaki, mirio, deku and todo crushing on fem reader from 1A who is an absolute role model but has a cold personality, like, they're the smartest in the class, they have the strongest quirk, they're always n1 in exercises/tests, etc.

Hello there! Thank you for the request! Refreshing to write some fluffs since I just finished a yandere story lol. I’m not the best at writing a cold reader, as I am a friendly person myself.

Warning: Soft fluffs

Izuku Midoriya

Your #1 fanboy since day 1. How you carry yourself across the room, the way you master your quirk like a pro, even the way you bite into your favorite ice cream... Izuku got it all down in that notebook.

You can act all cold and distant all you want; it is not going to stop Izuku!

He admires how you follow every rule, never stepping out of line. To him, you are the dictionary definition of a good student. Your marvellous grades are just another layer of awesomeness.

He notices how you would talk to the girls sometimes, but never consider them as “friends” or get attached to anyone. Being your friend is mission impossible? Consider Deku motivated.

One day he would approach you in the library, asking about a difficult question concerning history class. You would invite him to sit down with you and explain with great detail. When Izuku made a silly mistake, you chuckled.

He never heard or seen you laugh before, so he just froze there with astoundment.

That is when Izuku realize his feelings for you are more then simple admiration, more then the regular star-fan relationship. He would stick to you like a love-sick puppy from now on, beware.

After months of trying, you finally start to warm up to him. When he finally gathered the courage to ask you why you do not like making friends, you told him the story of your childhood. When you were young, you did not have a good control over your powerful quirk, and you had caused some permanent damage to some of your childhood friends. When you finally mastered it, you are already used to solitude. So you just did not bother.

“I’m surprised you want to spend time with someone like me, you surely have other friends.”

Why would you say such things? You are such an amazing person? Izuku is not going to let you hate yourself any longer.

Shoto Todoroki

You two are cut from the same cloth, both act aloof toward others.

That made Shoto curious about your backstory, as his is tragic as hell

Ever the good girl, how you always stay in top 3 in every test is beyond him. The only person who could rival you is Momo.

Seeing you spend almost all of your free time in the training grounds, makes Shoto wonder about why you are not chatting with you friends.

So he asked to join you for training. You accept, as he is one of the best in your class.

Training with you had made him realize how strong you are, he feels like he is back to the kid training with his father again. The way you strike at every opening mercilessly is breathtaking. You are so graceful, even your battle moves look like a dance.

That is when Shoto found he had fall for you, hard.

Being the two loners of your class, it is not hard for him to suggest doing group projects together. Once he got close to you, Shoto found you are actually a kind soul, so why you shut everyone else with that cold attitude first?

You say you would tell him, but not before Shoto told you his story first.

When he finishes, you are almost in tears. You had always known Endeavor is a cruel, harsh man, but abusing his own family like that? It is awful. His story makes yours pale in comparison.

Pulling him into a hug, you gently pat his back and say all is going to be okay.

Shoto would have an internal panic attack: He was not expecting you to take things this far? But he is happy to have this moment you, nevertheless.

After hearing how you injured your friends, and how you used to see yourself as a menace to others, Shoto would feel so sorry, as he promised you are not a threat anymore, so you could have friends.

Take you out for Sushi that night, that is the first time he seen your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He made a silent promise to himself: Shoto would make sure that glow stays.

“Let me be your fireplace in the winter, and your popsicle in the summer.”

Mirio Togata

Different from all the other boys, Mirio realize he is in love with you the moment he lay eyes on you. It’s love at first sight!

How can you be cold to him? Honestly, you will be a bit overwhelmed by his sunshine and warmth and stutter, breaking that icy façade you worked so hard on.

Mirio knows his way around shy or cold people: just look at him and Tamaki!

You are the only one who can land a hit on him during that brutal training session! Talk about a great first impression.

Would ask Midoriya all about you, from your performance on tests to your best friend.

Surprised to hear you do not really have any friends. An incredible, beautiful girl like you? Having no friends? What is happening in the world now...?

You start running into Mirio everywhere, it is like he memorized your schedule perfectly. He would attempt to make small talk at first, not getting discouraged when you give curt replies to his series of questions.

One day you would bluntly ask him why he is paying so much attention to you, surely he got more important stuff to do as a graduating student.

“But you are my priority.” Of course he did not say that out loud, it would only scare you away. He just says he happens to be free now.

When you accidently twisted your ankle while descending the stairs, luck is on Mirio’s side. He would pick you up and take you to the nurse’s office at that second!

He asked you why are you so distant towards other people, did something happen?

You guess you could tell him, since he just saved you a painful long walk.

“Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me! You got a better control over your quirk now, right? So why don’t you start opening up to other people again? Isolation is not good for you.”

Seeing him urging you to consider so earnestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to Mirio.

“You can start with me! Hi there, I am Mirio Togata and I would like to by your friend!”

You would laugh at his foolish phrase; it would be a moment he would cherish forever. Your precious smile.

He would guard that at all costs.

Tamaki Amijiki

How would you two initiate things?? Two introverts?? No way you two are just going to start talking by yourselves miraculously.

Tamaki is impressed, you were the only one in your class who managed to land a hit on Mirio! Why aren’t you the champion of the sports festival?

He found himself staring at you at lot when you were not looking. This dude is confused...what is this fluffy feeling in his chest? “IT”S CALLED LOVE, my friend!” Mirio almost broke his eardrums.

So when Fatgum said he would consider taking on one or two more work-study students, Tamaki recommended you and Kirishima.

The older man would notice the way he sings your praises, how you already grasped your quirk at such a young age, how your swiftness grants you endless advantage in battle. He would encourage Tamaki to say more, until the ravenette finally notice his intentions.

Oh, his shy little intern has a crush! How adorable, Fatgum has to do something.

Fatgum would be your wingman, no kidding. He would give you two a lot of alone time, saying Tamaki is experienced enough. Usually he would leave you two in the back while he and Kirishima walks in the front when patrolling.

Awkward silence is irritating, even for an unsociable person like yourself. So you would fill in the void with some chatter. The progress is slow though, as you are never talkative, and neither is Tamaki.

When he finally gathers the courage to ask you to train together during school, Tamaki would stutter. He did not expect to you to accept so soon, as you are already so good.

You are stunned by his quirk, even giving praises. You would start to bring him all kinds of food, just to see how he can utilize them in training.

“My quirk is nothing like yours, yours is everchanging! Mine is just so plain and boring compare to yours.”

Please do not say such bad things about yourself... You are amazing, quirk or no quirk.

You would start to join him and his friends for lunch whenever you have a break together and finds friendship to be a beautiful thing.

You would become a friendlier person not just towards Tamaki, but towards others too. He is happy that you have other friends now, but he would forever be your first friend in such a long time. You’ll remember him forever; Tamaki would make sure of that.

#bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #shoto todoroki #izuku midoriya #mirio togata #tamaki amakiji #i am too lazy to tag all of them so

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onyourzeus · 4 years

Text

• the answer | psj

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: the answer pairing: park sungjin (of day6) & you genre: FLUFF, non-idol!au words: 2.7k

author’s note: requested by this anon for a pregnant s/o headcanon with sungjin.

truthfully, this prompt is very new to me and at first, i thought i wouldn’t be able to write something. but i think i tried? i hope it is still enjoyable! (i have been binging sungjin compilation vids recently... i am in deep)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

sungjin is the most animated husband to a pregnant partner you’ve ever seen

and you have a handful of your friends who have gone through the “journey”

way before you did, so seeing the way their significant others react

to the baby bumps and sudden emotional breakdowns during double dates

it’s quite a show, really. they’re either so stunned, so careful due to their partner being more “fragile” than normal

and others who look calm and collected, seeming to have read every book on pregnancy and child bearing they can get from the local library

and of course, their partner admires the dedication and earnest reactions they all have towards this new beginning for the both of them: a life, growing inside their belly. how exciting

(and terrifying. absolutely terrifying)

so when you finally used one (that turned out to be five, just to be sure) pregnancy test you kept hidden in one of the bathroom cabinets

the rush of emotions start falling out: disbelief, pure bubbling joy, adrenaline rush of excitement, and then a few heavy pounds of anxiety

“baby you’re taking too long in the…” you hear sungjin’s concerned voice coming closer to you, and it trails off when the two of you meet eyes for the first time that night

that you realize you’re pregnant

“how many did you take?” is his first question, tone void of anything that you’re suddenly scared he didn’t want this yet

“five,” you reply quietly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while holding onto the tests strips

“should you take one more just in case?” he asks again, eyes wide and mouth hanging way too open for your liking

whining to him you say, “we might as well go to my doctor to make sure at this point because i think five is overkill already.”

a pregnant pause

you’re getting just a tiny bit annoyed at sungjin’s non-response at this point. he just looks like a fish out of water, and if you just didn’t find out you’re pregnant and are currently registering your own emotions, you’d have slapped him silly right there

but that’s just how sungjin reacts, especially with how important this all is to the trajectory of your shared life

“come here,” he tells you, arms spread out. face still nonchalant, but you swear you heard a hint of joy in that tone

you give in, though, because it’s sungjin and he’s suddenly getting teary eyed and you don’t want him to wait any longer—

“what do you think?” you whisper against his ear, folding into his embrace as he tightens his grip around your waist. the doubts that filled your mind about him not wanting this for any reason disappeared right when his warmth embraced you

“i think you’re gonna be the best parent ever,” he says but the way he’s squeezing you so hard causes you to audibly squirm

he lets go in a flash, apologizing back and forth

“sungjin it’s okay!!” you laugh, tears of joy welling up in your eyes because sungjin is already panicking about hurting the baby in some form due to him hugging you too much “i think the baby will be fine for now!!”

“let’s go,” he states, his hands holding onto yours and his eyes determined

“to where?” you laugh incredulously. sungjin’s switching of emotions in two seconds flat is hilarious to you, but you humor him for a moment

“to the doctor, so we know you’re healthy and the baby is healthy and what else we need to prepare for so that you can—”

it’s 9pm

ok it’s time to shut him up now

kissing his lips softly, you rest your forehead against his and the two of you share the peaceful silence inside your bathroom, in your own house, where your family soon will bloom

“too soon, sungjin,” you remark, smiling as you feel him blush inches away from you

he nods briefly, taking his time to kiss both of your cheeks and you indulge in his genuine love and care

“i’m so happy to do this with you,” he says, “to build our family together”

“i am too”

“should we start planning on the nursery room?” and there he is again, back to going on overdrive it makes you the less crazy one

you calm him down and remind him that it was grocery shopping day tomorrow then you can set up the appointment for your gynecologist. it seems to bring sungjin’s excitement down

by the end of the day, all the scrambling emotions you had accumulated once learning about your pregnancy has dwindled down to the most important one you have: gratefulness for sungjin

so that was just the beginning, right

in the following weeks that you have been confirmed to be pregnant yes, congratulations, a lot of things have changed in the household

from your newly bought maternity clothes, to less hours spent at work, and the empty room in your house finally being given the opportunity to bring it to life

it wasn’t only you doing the renovating, actually sungjin doesn’t want you near any tools or paint brushes at all

he wants the baby safe as well as your physical body

he is overreacting. you are only a month in

“you tell me the color of the walls, where the crib should be, and the paintings you want hung. i’ll do the work. deal?”

“no take backsies?” it sounds like a plan too good to be true

sungjin chuckles at your suspicion, but nods firmly

“fiiiine”

there was definitely a change in atmosphere in your relationship, however. it suddenly became a bit more… intuitive? it boggles your mind because sungjin has always been the perfect husband for you since day 1

but each passing day, he’s becoming so much more careful, gentle, and all-knowing with you

for example the one morning that you just felt the urge to throw up everything you ate the day prior among other things

sungjin had already prepared the bathroom with extra paper towels, a glass of water to gargle with

and even brought awaiting breakfast in bed, just a few fruits maybe an oatmeal and brewed tea (just the way you like it)

he doesn’t take too much time in the bathroom when he showers (and sings loudly) before a gyne appt or just when the two of you were supposed to bond that night

this is kind of a given but grocery shopping is more of a competition than cooperation months before

who brings the most bags and gets to the car the fastest (without spilling anything) will not cook food that day

now, sungjin doesn’t hesitate but almost force you to stand by the entrance of the place, and make you wait there until he finished putting the stuff in the car and drive where you were

“i need exercise too, sungjin” you’d poke him on the side while on the drive home, and sungjin just half-smiles

those days he’d try and order take out instead because, well, sometimes he just doesn’t want to cook

and you’re prepared for this, at least he lets you continue your hobby of being the master chef in the kitchen

it’s a nice way to bond with the baby and your husband. as sungjin plays music in the living room through a speaker or by singing himself

you enjoy trying new healthy recipes

the baby bump is forming shape now, your clothes definitely give out a hint. it’s been a complicated ride of what to feel about it

excited, thrilled, of course, sungjin takes a moment in the morning to really look at you

and his child that you bear so beautifully, and with so much grace

the sun shines somewhat through the curtains, and sunjin wonders how you sleep so amazingly well

his eyes never tire of tearing up with incoming thoughts of the next few months, years with you and your little boy or girl. he doesn’t even have an inch of doubt that you’re going to raise them well, and raise them kindly

on the other hand, as sungjin thumbs over your cheek, admiring your presence in front of him...

synchronized breathing

sungjin is afraid if he will not be enough for his child. there’s so many things that can go wrong in the first three years, let alone the moment they’ll come to this world

what if he gets cold feet? what if he cannot financially support the two of you anymore? what if you become disappointed at how he’s presenting himself as a good father?

it pains sungjin to realize all of these what-ifs. with a few more minutes to spare before he has to go to another day at work, sungjin makes sure to feel the curve of your belly, and transfer over his warmth to you

he closes his eyes, immersing himself with the beat of his heart, knowing that it’s for you and your family

if you’re lucky, you wake up to the whispers of sungjin about the many different things he loves about you, his forever partner, the future super parent of your child

resisting to open your eyes and see his embarrassed face is almost harder than not drinking coffee nowadays

but you get used to it, just barely seeing how shiny his eyes get, how relaxed his features become and how much love leaves his lips

saying your name, singing to the baby a little good morning jingle, telling you both

“i love you so much, more than you can know in this lifetime”

and when sungjin is busy at work, half relegating tasks to his employees and the other burying down the anxiety about leaving you at home all day alone

you do your part to ease his worries, sending him cute texts throughout the day

sometimes he even asks about the belly more than about you

“hows the baby?? can i see?? does it feel different today?? did you feel a kick? do you think it will be twins??”

(god you hope not)

“sungjin you are at work and i can hear your colleagues laughing at your excitement, quiet down!”

he’s so proud, so so proud of you. getting those texts and short calls from you while he’s away does more assurance than you think

he readied himself by asking his family members about parenting, asking his friends about their opinions, and reading so much online that he’d forget to do his share of the workload in the office

being 100% prepared is his mission, and he thinks you’re not taking it seriously. you say it comes with intuition for you because, well, you’re carrying the baby. but there’s one thing the both of you just cannot explain to each other which confuses sungjin all the more

your cravings

it was fairly normal in the beginning, maybe you wanted cheese on everything one day, and then you just had to add peanut butter on your garlic bread… okay, at least sungjin didn’t have to eat it with you

but the times that you didn’t have the ingredients you were specifically asking for, sungjin was at a loss for words

“sungjin…” you whine on the bed with him, sitting up as best as you can with the bump and pushing his shoulders so he gets up. he was lying down but had his back facing you, as he he had tried multiple times to convince you to go back to bed already

it wasn’t successful

“babe it’s too late to go out,” he’d murmur, hugging the pillow close to him as if to block out your voice. this offends you, a little over the top than normal, so you continue shaking him up

“but i neeeed it. the baby neeeeeeds it. you want the best for baby, right? anything baby wants, baby gets, right?” you say with a pout, although futile as he couldn’t see you

sungjin groans lightly, understanding that cravings aren’t even explainable on your end but there must be something in the house that can, well, emulate what your tastebuds desired— or, sorry, the baby

“we have leftover vanilla ice cream in the fridge, sweetheart, will that be okay for now? we’ll get the other flavor tomorrow morning,” sungjin calms you down, turning over to see your face soaked with fresh tears

this gets him to sit up, cuddle mode on, but you refuse

“baby, i’m sorry—”

“no i’m sorry sungjin, i just wanted to eat because i can’t sleep if i don’t but you’re upset and now i feel so lumpy and gross and—”

“hey hey no,” he scolds you softly, never liking the way he hears you call yourself such a word. his arms embrace your from behind, hands secured on your bump as he peppers you with tender kisses on the side of your face, kissing the tears away

“sungjin i don’t look cute right now,” you pout, somehow knowing what you’re saying is ridiculous to a point and irrational, but also the way you’re thinking isn’t logical right now

“that’s a lie,” sungjin tells you. “don’t ever believe that.”

you find his hands caressing your bump, and intertwine them together. sungjin lets you breathe in and out for a minute, as he finds it the best way to help you out when emotions start to overwhelm you

no words, no distractions, just the feel of him and his security

“do you really want strawberry cheesecake ice cream right now, babe?” he finally asks as the tension from your body dissipates. you nod and crane your neck to the side just enough to meet his lips with yours

one kiss, two kisses

sungjin looks at you brightly, smiles and nods once

“okay, i’ll get it for you, you just stay here and rest. okay?”

exhausted from the emotions but still hungry from your cravings, you follow his words. after, he tucks you back in bed, gives your bump a quick peck and goes out the door

“don’t forget the potato chips :c” you text him 5 mins later

“of course love, pickle-dill and strawberry ice cream ready for you soon ;)”

when he came back, he didn’t think to spend the next 20 minutes watching you put the potato chips as a sort of topping for your ice cream

suffice to say, it was a strange night that ended in laughs, you trying to get him to take a bite (which you succeeded), reminiscing on old times, and falling asleep with him fitting right by your side perfectly

it were these moments that you feel more and more in love with sungjin because he doesn’t just care for you

he cares with all of his being, and you make sure he knows how much he’s appreciated with the little things he does, and the big things he shows off to you

the nursery room gets done earlier than expected, and surprisingly enough sungjin let you paint a patch or two of the wall. you spend time off decorating the whole place with pictures of the two of you way back then, pictures of your child’s (favorite) uncles, paintings you have finished that embodied the love you have for your future family, everything that reminded you of home with sungjin

“you think our baby will like it?” sungjin asks you right after hes finished with the last picture frame. it was empty, undecorated, but hung right next to the crib.

“absolutely, appa made it with love.”

“and sweat”

and he holds you right there, the fresh scent of furniture and a new beginning amidst the air

he holds you and your blossoming family in his careful, gentle hands. and you whisk yourself away in the moment and how perfect it was, how grateful you are to live this through with sungjin

a slight kick reverberates within your bump, and sungjin glances at you immediately

another bump, and the two of you slowly form the widest grins

“i guess you got your answer, sungjin.”

his answer has already been in front of him

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #park sungjin imagines #park sungjin scenarios #day6 x reader #day6 fic #by:jiae

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charmmycolour · 4 years

Note

Answer questions about Dakavendish pls UwU

YES! I love any excuse to talk about my dorks!

1. Who kissed the other first?

Cavendish.

I know, I know, but hear me out! Let me put a short and a long answer because the long one is long.

Short answer: Cavendish kisses Dakota for the first time without realizing, because he’s simply too excited and not thinking properly. And we know how touchy he gets when he’s excited.

Long answer (you can skip): It’s a personal headcanon that in the future Cavendish alone will get a better job at PIG, and at Dakota insistence he will accept. There’s a ton more to that hc, but basically at some point Cav would be in danger and, in his usual fashion, Dakota would rush to save him. But because they are trying to blackmail PIG and Cav is now important, they kidnap Dakota.

Cavendish tries to convince PIG to send a team to save Dakota, but Bob is all “he’s just the janitor, we can’t waste resorces on a rescue mission for him. Don’t worry about it!” and Cav is FURIOUS, but can’t really do anything about it and he’s too scared to go on a rescue mission on his own. This is too dangerous and he’s clumsy and insecure.

So Cavendish is mopping alone, not knowing what to do. At some point, Milo, Melissa and Zack find him and unaware of the situation just ask where is Dakota. And Cav is like, I can’t tell them the true! They would want to help and get worried, and I can’t involve three innocent children on this. So he lies and tells them everything is fine and Dakota is doing his own thing somewhere else.

But since the topic is there, Milo mentions Dakota is a cool guy and the rest agree. Cavendish, still on his "everything is fine" act tries to act like usual pointing Dakota's flaws "you won't say that if you had to work with him, he's messy, irresponsible, impulsive, always hungry, has no sense of fashion..."

But then he starts to trail off "and he gets excited with the smallest of things, can you imagine? I guess that's quite admirable on it's own way, but... I mean, I don't hate him, Dakota can be pretty helpful sometimes. He knows how to act under pressure, can talk his way out of situations, made our job a lot less boring, and to be honest, he's quite funny, even with that odd sense of humor; and he's the most loyal person I have ever know, he's kind and witty and selfless and..."

He ends listing all kind of virtues and the kids look at each other and Melissa goes: "Wow, someone likes-likes Dakota, uh?". And Cavendish is just "What? No! I don't... I would never... Dakota is not..." then he suddenly is hit by the realization and just stares in the void, eyes wide. And Melissa of course would tell Zack "I told ya" and he would give her five dolars, because they absolutely have a bet going about this.

The kids will leave saying "Tell Dakota we said hi!" and after a few more moments of existential crisis, Cav would change to absolute determined and will go "I will" and decide to save Dakota on his own. And he goes and is BADASS CAVENDISH rescue mission.

And THEN, when he finally gets to Dakota, and sees him, and screams his name and hugs him, he kisses Dakota out of pure joy, and then smiles at him and says “Milo and his friends said hi”.

END OF LONG ANSWER

2. What was their first fight about?

We know it was about using the training car to get burritos hehe

3. Who sleeps in the couch more often?

Once they had a proper bed? Absolutely Dakota. Cavendish gets super huffy and Dakota would rather use the couch that listen to his complains (also Dakota probably don’t have problems sleeping everywhere, not because of the place at least.)

4. Who drinks coffee and who drinks tea?

Easy one! Cavendish drinks tea, Dakota drinks coffee.

Although I will say Cav secretly puts a lot more sugar on his tea that the average person would find acceptable, and despite his sweet tooth in other deparments, Dakota likes his coffe very bitter to keep him awake.

5. Who goes grocery shopping more often?

Dakota. Cavendish had been so sheltered all his life that he’s blissfully unaware on how much money food cost, or what is truly needed in a house. If you let him go shooping, he ends getting too much, and half of it totally unnecessary.

On the other hand, years and years of poverty had made Dakota an expert of how to buy cheap. However he also buys a lot of unhealthy food, but fortunately Cav is improving that part.

6. Who brings breakfast in bed?

Dakota does so often, the thing is that his concept of “breakfast on bed” consist mostly of a cup of tea and whatever sparse pastry was around at the moment.

Cavendish only does so on rare ocassion, but when it happens, he gets flowers, the most fancy breakfast he’s able to prepare and a a sweet note, if not some small detail. He takes the gesture very seriously.

7. Who sleeps first?

Cavendish. He enjoys routine, wakes up at 6:30am every day and it’s in bed at 9:30pm. By 10 he’s sleeping.

8. Who watches the other sleeping?

Dakota has bad sleeping habits, but it’s mostly due to night terrors and nightmares. He often watches Cavendish sleep, just happy he’s there, and he’s alive.

He also enjoys watching him mumble on his dreams, except when it’s about Hildegard or any of the other previour crushes of Cavendish, which Dakota hates. Not as much because the jealousy but at the fact Cav always gets rejected and hurt on these dreams.

9. Who met the parents in law first?

Assuming they ever get to see their families again, Dakota would be the one meeting Cavendish parents for sure. In fact, I’m not even sure Dakota wants to ever introduce Cavendish to his abusive mother and probably absent father, if father at all.

10. Who does the laundry?

Sunday is laundry day (Dakota doesn’t wear much on Sundays!), and the shorter man is the one that takes care of it. Putting clothes on a washing machine it’s easy, so he jumped at claiming the task inmediatly.

Plus he can pretend there’s no clean clothes he can wear for the day...

11. Who washes the dishes?

Cavendish, altough Dakota had to teach him because he hadn’t washed a dish before in his life prior to his job at BoTT.

12. Who clean up the house?

Cavendish. Again, he needed some help, but now he knows how to keep the space clean and tidy, he WILL keep the space clean and tidy. Dakota really don’t care much for order, but Cav can’t live without it.

13. Who washes the car?

You can bet Dakota not only washes the car, but absolutely does a lewd spectacle of it. There’s always more water and soap over him that over the vehicle.

14. Who brings take outs?

Both of them take turns, as take out is one of their favorite things. Sometimes Dakota just appear with them without warning, though.

15. Who calls the other to ask if they want something from the street?

Dakota is always too loud “Hey Cav, Cav, what do you want?? I take a large or an extra large?? What’s better? Cav, Cav, CAV!”

Cavendish often wants to sink on the ground out of embarrassment.

16. Who’s more likely to make plans?

Count on Dakota making plans on the spot and making most of the day. Cavendish has problems with changes, but still obliges because, well, it’s Dakota.

17. Who dreams about a big wedding?

Cavendish always had imagined his wedding as the most big, fancy, white party in the world.

Dakota was unexpected on that plan, of course. Wearing white around him can’t end well, Cavendish knows it. But somehow... he doesn’t care as much about the wedding anymore.

Dakota didn’t even want to get married, but now the idea looks a lot more appealing, if only to have the change to carry Cav around on his arms.

18. Who breaks the cups?

Cavendish, actually, all the time. Too clumsy for this world.

19. Who holds the umbrella?

When raining starts, Dakota usually silently puts the umbrella over Cavendish, which more often than not doesn’t even realize it’s raining and what Dakota is doing for several minutes. Dakota ends wet a lot, but he don’t care. When Cav finally realizes, though, he makes sure to put both of them under it and hold the umbrella, since he’s a lot taller. Dakota is thankful because his arm was starting to hurt.

20. Who takes the other to the dance floor?

Cavendish is a good dancer, but he absolutely never dances on his own volition. Dakota drags him to dance every time, and every time, Cavendish ends enjoying it.

21. Who does the big romantic gestures?

I think sacrificing yourself hundreds of times to save the other’s life counts as a big romantic gesture, so Dakota.

Cav tries his best, but is misfortune doesn’t help. Not that Dakota cares.

22. Who’s more likely to serenade?

Dakota. Not only has he the better singing voice, but he can make songs in the spot. Plus he likes to fluster Cavendish serenading him in public.

23. Who forgets the wet towel in bed?

You can bet Dakota does and you can bet Cavendish nags him for it.

24. Who don’t pick up things when they fell?

Dakota. What’s another thing in the floor?

25. Who keeps losing the keys?

Cavendish is CONSTANTLY missing everything. He don’t even understand why, his order is impeccable! Meanwhile Dakota, that thrives on his own messes, can locate any item in seconds.

26. Who sings the rap part?

The idea of Cavendish trying to rap anything is making me laugh too hard, so Dakota.

27. Who pretends to be sad just so the other will cheer they up?

Dakota is always cheering Cavendish up, although Cav is genuinely sad. It’s possible that he gets more pouty than necesary just to get Dakota’s attention, though.

28. Who wakes up ready for a maraton?

Cavendish does exercise every morning. Dakota hated it, until he discovered Cav wears a really ridiculous and tight 80 workout aerobic outfit for it. Since then, he wakes up early too only to watch Cavendish doing exercise in front of the TV.

29. Who buys them tickets for shows?

Cavendish. He insist they need to do more cultural things. Half of the time they end leaving at the middle and going to some childish activity instead, though.

30. Who choose the movie?

Oh, they are always bickering about who is choosing the movie and who has better taste. True is, both have terrible taste.

31. Who says ‘I love you’ more often?

After the first time (that took more than ten years!), Dakota finally feels free to say I love you, and will absolutely use it. Dakota reminds Cav he loves him several times a day for the tiniest of things.

Cavendish is more reserved, if only because he still gets flustered with the idea. He likes his words to hold a sense of uniqueness, and so he limits his love words to the most intimate or romantic moments.

32. Who keeps waving at people after they got engaged?

Half the city knows all the details about Dakota’s ring, because he can’t stop himself from bragging about Cavendish to everyone.

33. Who uses the most ridiculous nicknames for the other?

Cavendish is not a fan of pet names and only uses Dakota, and sometimes Vinnie or at most dear. Dakota don’t extend the courtesy to him.

Dakota calls Cavendish every pet name under the sun. Babe, handsome, amore, casanova, cutie, cupcake, muffin, sugar plum, sweetie, tesoro mio... even mister hot stuff or sexy pants.

Cavendish hates it.

He tried to make ridiculous names for Dakota, but Dakota loves every one of them. So now Cav calls him teddy bear.

34. Who’s responsible for date nights?

Date nights, as an event, is mostly Cav’s job. He organizes wonderful dates, but gets frustrated quickly if anything goes wrong, so Dakota spontaneous nature it’s a blessing.

35. Who wakes up one day and decides to stay in bed?

That’s Dakota 90% of mornings.

And 85% of the time, Cav doesn’t let him.

Sometimes, though... a few extra cuddles can’t hurt anyone.

#dakavendish #balthazar cavendish/vinnie dakota #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #milo murphy's law #mml dakota #mml cavendish #mml

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dj-yukio · 4 years

Text

A fanfic theory idea for rwby post v8 e13

Fun fact: I had a German test on Monday, so to relax I thought I’d go onto tumblr on Sunday, and it turned out to be the single greatest mistake I ever made because I found out then that Yang had fallen off the platform and turned into gold dust as she fell into the void AFTER not catching her literal lifeline so my mind has been coming up with a what if scenario about what happens next in the form of fanfic plot points

Fragmented memories like that of mirror shards

- end of battle, cinder and Neo escape, rwb sad before realising that ambrosius can’t kill

- Summon ambrosius, convo goes something like “ah, another chance to exercise my creative— oh it’s you guys, again— hey yellow is gone”

- RWB ask him about his warning, he tells them that his vault is about creativity, and that his creativity is like a bottomless pit

- He explains that falling is not fatal, however what goes in is going to be very difficult to extract out (in reference to oscar

- Semblance is manifestation of aura, aura is soul manifestation, and falling into vault fragments soul (thus yellow powder after falling in) (also think of fragments like mirror fragments such that each piece reflects a certain past or truth)

- Worlds created tend not to make sense as it follows a particular fragment’s memory or logic, but it is theoretically possible to put the fragments together to bring the person back (why penny soul remembers shtuff)

- After discussing with the rest of the other people like green team and Jaune team, they plan for what to do for vacuo and stuff

- RWB resolve to get Yang out, while other people who also fell in... well they’re living better lives, can’t exactly save them if you don’t know who the extras are

- Somehow get into vault without fragmenting themselves, with Ambrosius building a pathway for them (rabbit hole) directly to yang’s first fragmented world

- At the end of the path is just darkness, and the team wonders if they lost until they suddenly find themselves in Patch, a recreation of it

- Place is misty as hell (long forgotten memories), and Ruby sees her house and leads team there

- No one else is around, so Weiss goes straight to trying to knock on the door

- Knocking on the door, they easily find the first fragment, a young Yang about five years old

- The fragment confuses Ruby for Summer, and that’s when Ruby realises that her clock has changed to white among other things (such as how the cakes and drink in Alice in wonderland change one’s size and how the end of the story is about Alice recognising the logic and stuff) because Yang has perceived her to be their mother. Weiss and Blake are unaffected as this fragment has no prior memory of them at this age

- other shenanigans at each major life point

The goal is to reconcile the abandonment issues that Yang has, because we have the Story of the girl who fell through the world was that when she found her way back she was sad and not the same and honestly I just want a nice twist where Yang’s sad in the sense that she has, with the help of the team, finally accepted those abandonment issues of hers (bitch I think this has gone on way too long please for the love of god let her accept those fears and progress but feel free to correct me) and is no longer the same person in the sense that she has grown from the experience

And now my thoughts continue to be overwhelmed with oh shit what’s next when I don’t even watch the show, just slices of it in gifs but it’s forcing my brain to come up with scenarios that I’m too lazy to write a full fanfic out of but still want to theorise stuff which is why I’m here right now

#yang xiao long #I want her to be happy thanks #rwby #rwby 8 spoilers #rwby 8x13 #thank god I’m usually wrong

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theos-writing · 4 years

Text

EDS Chess headcanons

me? projecting? yes. i thought it'd be nice to bring a different type of diversity to the fandom and i can really see Chess having eds, so i thought it would be nice to come out with my hcs. slight warning, this is very long

for those who dont know: Ehlers Danlos Syndrom (EDS) is a genetic connective tissue disorder that affects collagen, that is one of the main proteins of the body and is in charge of keeping us together. there are thirteen types of EDS, but overall, the main symptoms are: joint weakness and fragility, stretchy and fragile skin, and chronic pain. people with EDS, if they do any sports, usually have a short career in them, since growth spurts or short periods of time without exercise can make them lose muscle mass easily, and in consequence, not have the compensation for their weak joints and end up feeling pain and dislocate things easily. wanna learn more go to this site (The Ehlers Danlos Society)

this is mainly based on my experiences. eds is different for each person.

Riley never did the stabby thing au

TW: addiction, injury, doctors, medicine and medical exams

Chess had a terrible balance when she was little

she was always falling and getting hurt

so her parents decided to sign her up for gymnastics when she was about four

she was really good at it

the teachers did say she had hypermobility

it wasnt a problem tho, it could even make her a better gymnast if she wanted to keep going!

at the beginning, she got hurt a lot

she twisted her ankles and complained of pain

everyone just brushed it off as growing pains and said that as she got stronger, she would get better

and she did!

for a long time, she had nearly no pain and only dislocated a couple joints

but when she was about twelve, that started getting worse

she was feeling her joints go out of place more often and she was feeling more pain

at this point, she doesnt want to tell anyone

all the pain was just growth pain, they would stop one day

until she started having this weird pain on her shoulder. it wouldnt go away, no matter how long she put ice on it or how she trained. it wasnt stopping.

she was fourteen and on the beginning of freshman year when that happened.

after a while, the pain was just a normal thing for her

it was annoying as hell and she hated it, but she wasnt going to let it stop her gymnastics

so she kept training.

but the pain started spreading. her other shoulder, her elbows and wrists

it was getting hard to write

but she could write on the computer so that didnt affect her studies

she was more concerned about gymnastics

she was amongst the top ranked on the country

even in her worst event, she was still in third place

she couldnt give up now

so she ignored the pain

until she couldnt anymore.

Chess was just practicing when she felt this massive pain shot up her shoulder

she let go of the high bar and fell

the way she landed, half on her feet, half falling down took a turn on her knee

she felt it leave the place where it was supposed to be and she screamed

her knee was nearly on the side of her leg

she panicked, not because of the pain, but because she knew what this meant: her career as a gymnast was over before it had even started

she was fifteen, a sophomore in high school, one of the youngest people recruited for the next olympics

now, all that was over

knowing that hurt more than her knee

Chess needed surgery so they could fix it

and at least four months of rehab to get it to normal use again

but as she thought, no more gymnastics. ever.

she cried for days. if she didnt have gymnastics, what did she have?

then one day, after a really bad pain crisis, she was given vicodin

it felt... good. so she accepted the next time they offered her. and whenever they would ask after, she always had pain.

it wasnt a lie. she had a lot of pain. and with weeks of bed rest, she was developing more and more pain areas. her back, her hips, her ankles, her neck, everything hurt

but she didnt need meds for it. she needed meds so she could fill up that void inside her

she recovered, partially. she still used crutches for months

finally, two months before the end of the year, she was back to walking normally and even doing p.e.

so she decided to try out for the cheer team. it wasnt gymnastics, but it was better than nothing

Kate tried out with her and also quit gymnastics for her

"a best friend wont let you suffer on your own" she said

they both got in, and when they went back to school after the summer, Chess was already fully healed

but she didnt stop with the meds

she would say she knows what happened that year but for her its all a blur her mind blocked out

she dropped Farrah, she knew that, and the younger girl hated her for it

to be honest, Chess also did. she hurt someone, even if not on purpose, she hurt someone. if Farrah landed weird she could've hurt herself as much as Chess did or even die and that would be on Chess.

so for a while she agreed to try to stop

but the pain and the withdrawals were too much

so she went back to it

until the next year. after the sleepover. after what Kate said.

and it was hard. so hard. but she made it through a day, then a week, and a month, and it got a bit easier.

the only thing that got to her was the pain. where the hell was the pain coming from

she refused to take any pain meds for it, she was scared she would slide back. she dealt with that pain for so long, it couldnt be that bad

but it was. she was starting to subluxate and dislocate things almost every week

after another scare with her knee, the school board and her parents decided it would be better if she went off the team

she was distraught again.

but now, what they wanted were answers. they went to doctor after doctor after doctor for months. no one really believed her

she researched and looked for answers on her own until she came across EDS

it sounded... like her. the pain, the dislocations, the short lived life in gymnastics, the skin that would always end up with massive scars, the hypermobility she had since a young age

she talked to her parents about that, and they agreed to take her to a geneticist

she was terrified going to that appointment

she was scared the geneticist would say what everyone else did, tell her its for attention or for the meds

but she listened. she listened while they told Chess' story and their family health history. she did a physical exam and didnt say anything until they were done talking

then she said Chess was right. she did have EDS.

Chess cried when she was told that. she finally had a diagnosis. she wasnt crazy, she wasnt faking it. she had an actual illness

it did mean she would most likely feel pain for the rest of her life, tho

but it also meant she could stop with the E.R. visits and the dirty looks from doctors and the countless blood tests and scans that got them no where

that didnt mean no scans or blood work, but those meant something. those were now to check if she was alright, not to check if she was telling the truth. and it felt so good

she told Kate right when she got home

at first she was scared, but they spent all night reading the articles Chess' doctor had sent to them and watching videos of other people with EDS, and she wasnt scared anymore. not as much anyways

#wow this was long #but im proud of it :)#chess watt #we are the tigers #we are the tigers musical #we are the tigers headcanons #kate watt #kate dalton #nix writes #addiction tw #doctors tw

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 78 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 78 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Kurin smiled, “Did you give helmswoman Darkistry the idea to ride the eye of the Coriolis storm north?”

“No, Little Fish, that was her own idea, and an excellent one. At that time they did have to hide but I could not allow them escape over the Dragon Sea to another fleet. I still regard the Naral fleet as my fleet and it had done a terrible injustice. If the fleet was not given the opportunity to undo the injustice, a new Captain of Captains could arise. War and ruin could follow. It has before.”

“When and where did you have your talk with Barad and Tanlin?” Kurin asked Mecat.

“In the eye of the storm, as the Grandalor rode it north.”

“Besides barring them from flight,” Kurin wanted to know, “what else happened during that talk?”

“I found out why the Lady Tanlin was so highly regarded by such a rough-cut crew. That led me to give her a Dragon’s Gift.”

“What was the nature of the Gift, if you will tell us?” asked Kurin with high interest.

“Singularity of self, acceptance of loss, internal peace, an end to nightmares. She deserved no less,” said Blind Mecat quietly. “She made many hard choices. The Wide Wings, Skye and Thunderhead, got included in the Gift by accident. That may have far reaching ecological consequences. I urgently wish to find out.”

“I think that you will have that chance, Mecat,” said Kurin.

Turning to face the Court, Kurin paced as she talked. “The incident with the Fauline is now closed and all the charge of piracy dealt with. We have the word of Dragons who were direct witnesses. By the Tenth Great Law the facts as described by Captain Barad are incontestable.

“The matter of the poison plot has been exposed, not as the action of a whole ship, nor even of a large cadre, as it indeed did appear. It was the work of a very limited circle. It is probable that at least one murder, Master Selked’s apprentice, Merk, was committed solely to reduce the size of the circle even further. Captain Barad, having changed his mind about the plot, tried energetically to prevent harm to me or any other.

“Mister Morgu and Silor Elon, who are being held prisoner aboard the Grandalor for Council trial, were the sole attackers. On them alone lie the charges of murder, attempted murder and mutiny.

“As to the matter of unlawful flight, it was the Council itself that broke the Second Great Law. The Grandalor had both a duty, now discharged, to seek proper justice and the necessity to preserve the lives of the innocent against the blatant injustice involved.

“Neither Barad nor Tanlin can be held accountable for the piratical attack by the Longin on the Grandalor. I personally ordered the counter attack in defense of both the lives of the crew in my care and the ship itself, my sole property. Effort and care were exercised to minimize the damage to the Longin while still putting her out of action.”

That revelation caused consternation among the Court and spectators. A shocked Sula demanded, “You ordered the attack on your own ship?”

“The ship that I grew up on, yes,” said Kurin softly. “And it was the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. I had to, Sula. These lives were in my hands.” From her pile of notes, Kurin pulled out the book entitled ‘Grandalor Adoption Register.’ She handed it over, with the simple explanation, “I’ve confirmed the whole lot, personally. There’s not one person on board, except for the two prisoners, who did not adopt in. They did it after they knew what kind of trouble they were in. Captain Barad had saved many of them and they were determined not to let him down in his need. Barad and Captain Tanlin have that loyalty from their entire crew. Few Captains do.”

“I petition the Court to dismiss all current criminal charges and actions against the Grandalor, her crew, officers and Captains. They acted as reasonable people. Their assessment of the situation was proved accurate on all counts but one.

“They had no need to flee from the Honored Huld and the Soaring Bird. He was seeking to enforce their rights and would have fought Sula herself if necessary to do so.”

This bombshell caused consternation among the audience. The Great Sea Dragons were regarding each other and nodding their agreement. It made sense of confusing reports from Iren’s Orcas. Sula turned to Huld and said, “You said that we must pursue. That’s part of the reason that I did.”

Huld thought for only moment before saying, “Indeed, necessary it was. Injustice obvious was. Rights protected and enforced was need. Found them not. Error found you for yourself and correction made without help. Way of adult, not child.”

Sula turned to Kurin and asked, “How did you know?”

“I long ago asked him what Honored meant,” Kurin replied. “If what he told me were true, and I believed him, then he could not act in any other way.”

Sarfin concentrated on the petition that accompanied the revelation. He consulted Sula for a few minutes of whispered conference. Both gestured and remonstrated, at the last asking, “Captain Farrol, do you have anything further to add to your case?”

“An hour ago, you could not have changed my mind about Barad or any from his ship. Guilty, I would have said. Since then, I have heard Dragons testify in Court. I have heard things that make sense out of things that I have accepted without question. We, the Court, still have much business to address. The Grandalor case though, I concede. They are innocent of these charges.”

Sarfin stood and raised his hands for silence and got it. “The decision of the Court in this matter is final and may not be appealed. The Grandalor and her entire crew as represented in this document,” he held up the ‘Grandalor Adoption Registry’, and her Captain at the time of the charges, are innocent.

“I am not done. Captain Barad shows many qualities that are, now that we understand them, admirable. He has saved lives that would have been lost. He is right. We did not look into many matters as well as we ought to have.

“Unfortunately, that does not excuse the civil matter of the counterfeit scrip and many other infractions of conduct. His Master’s Certificate is revoked. In five Gatherings, he may petition the Council for reinstatement. During the penalty, he may not hold any position of command.

“Captain Tanlin, subject to approval by the full Council at the next Gathering, is instated as Captain of the Grandalor.

“This trial is now over.” He sat.

Kurin stood and held up her hands for recognition.

Captain Urson sarcastically said, “What, isn’t it enough that you got that load of scupper trash off?”

“No,” said Kurin with deceptive mildness, “it isn’t.”

Turning to Captain Sarfin she stated, “There are Council charges that must be brought against the Fauline. As the owner of the Grandalor and her advocate before the Naral fleet, I am the proper person to bring these charges for the ship.

“The Fauline dodged share tax. She knowingly brought false capital charges against another ship. You have the Word of Dragons on those. She has willfully lied to the Council. She could not have got to the Arrakan fleet and then to her Spring waters in the time that she had.

Kurin smiled slightly and added, “In addition, she has not yet filed the quitclaim on the Grandalor’s hull secured loan, as an integral part of her deception of the Council. Until all the parchments are signed, the Grandalor, remains out of the Naral fleet and cannot legally collect what is due to her. Thus, her loan reverts to the fleet and the Grandalor will cheerfully leave it with the fleet as partial payment of her fines. That makes the entire 12,306 Skins, 209 blocks of arrears due for immediate payment.

“If they produce the quitclaim, the date will prove it to be false, because their Log will show them to be in Arrakan fleet waters at the time. The loan will have to be paid up to current. If the date is any other than what the Court has heard from the Great Sea Dragons, the entire document is void due to forgery and the loan must still be paid.

“However it falls out, Skua, by Naral fleet Law, must lose his Master’s Certificate for life because he willfully allowed his ship to become bankrupt. Also by Law, the bankrupt vessel must be Scattered.”

Captain Urson slammed both hands down on the table and launched herself to her feet in a rage. “You little Ord! How can you do that to somebody like Captain Skua! What did he ever do to you?”

Kurin looked at her as if she were a particularly noisome bit of offal. “To me personally, nothing. To my fleet, he’s a liar, cheat and tax dodger. To my friends, the Grandalor and her crew, he’s a scoundrel who doesn’t pay his debits, a rapist and an attempted murderer. I try to take care of those that I like.”

Captain Urson was about to sit again when it hit her. “What do you mean, rapist?” she asked uneasily.

Kurin once again spoke with that deceptive mildness that Captain Urson was now beginning to dread, “Captain Sarfin, I have a few parchments here that may be of interest. These are fleet certified copies of unaltered Grinna Log entries. They detail a trial held some Gatherings back. You will find my copy of the same entries, for comparison, marked and highlighted for witness’ names and certain other information.”

She handed over another set of parchments with the explanation, “These are fleet certified, unaltered crew duty rosters for the time periods noted in the trial record, along with the whole Wohan before and after. Please note that every crewman or woman in that whole time who is absented from duty for more than a few minutes is noted.

“A simple comparison of the witness list and the duty roster proves that this trial was never held at all.

“The charge was seduction in violation of the Marriage Laws, a potentially capital offense, if no ship will take in the one found guilty.

“Captain Macom, now deceased, First Officer Skua Calin Grinna, Second Officer of the First Night Watch, Kotance Warn Grinna, Harpooner Miklot Moen Grinna, now dead from a Strong Skin attack, and one other conspired to the rape, attempted murder and denial of Great Law rights to one Darkistry Colm Grinna, now Darkistry Colm Grandalor.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 78 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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