#he better be handled with care from now on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doctorho · 2 days ago

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this one is for eveyone who needs some extra love around these times.

Viktor knows better than he'd like that life isn't always...pretty. Or simple, or easy, or fair. No matter how hard most of Piltover seemed to pretend that there was something magical in the midwinter turnpoint that made everyone suddenly forget the suffering and misery and the complexities of real-life situations, he knows that's not the case.

Which is why he doesn't ask stupid questions when you stay at the Academy over winter break. He doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to. It's evident enough in the way you preoccupy yourself with work that it's something you'd rather not discuss. You're focusing harder than usual, and he's familiar enough with what that precarious, tight-knuckle grip on being okay.

And Viktor?

Well. Viktor's more than happy to be a distraction.

When he gets to the lab, mid-morning, you're already there. He's not exactly surprised; he'd anticipated this. Maybe even hoped for it. He'd worked with you for a while now and grown exponentially more attached to your company - not that he'd told you the extent of his affections. But he'd get to that. Hopefully.

He came prepared with two warm drinks and still-steaming pastries, and he silently starts unloading those to the common desk that had been designated as the makeshift kitchen of the room.

"Good morning," he says casually, "I brought breakfast." He thinks of adding if you want some, but upon reflection, doesn't. There's a fine line between respecting someone's free will and pushing them to make good choices, and he's currently erring hard to the side of I don't know if you've eaten anything yet today but you definitely should.

You only hum in response, not lifting your eyes off your current project.

In response to this, he hums back and tilts his head, studies the organized mess on your desk; circuit boards, either half-assembled or half-taken apart, he's not sure, stripped wires, a steaming soldering iron. Your hands, shaking a little.

He places the drink intended for you on your desk, just annoyingly out-of-reach, and waits for you to look up.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he asks, holding up the pastry now that he has your attention.

"Why does that matter?" you ask, reaching for the takeaway cup on the edge of your desk. Viktor leans the handle of his cane to block your reach, which makes you look up at him. Properly.

"Just trying to determine if I should make you take a lunch break while I'm bothering you, or if the pastry will suffice."

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shift in your seat. He can hear your back crack in several places, and not in the pleasant type of way.

"Last night," you answer, leaning back with a sigh, then quietly add, "I think."

Viktor reaches over to turn off your soldering iron. "Lunchbreak it is, then. These can be dessert."

"I'm fine-" you start, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he says, completely casually, "I think you're pushing through low blood sugar to get this-" he gestures towards the desk, "finished, and I can tell you it's much easier to make mistakes when you aren't thinking clearly."

When you're quiet, he continues, picking up your coat and offering it to you. "You can trust me on this," he says, "I have more than enough experience."

You take a deep breath and sigh it out, feeling somewhat like a toddler.

"I promise you can go right back to poking at this later." He adds, and you slowly take the jacket from him.

"Good," he says, "I know a place."

It's a careful dance, and he knows this; he doesn’t want to push you. But he's been there, and he doesn’t want you to suffer more than absolutely necessary. And he really does know a place.

He re-packs the drinks and the pastries, and you follow him to a nearby cafe-and-drink-cart that's serving small steaming dishes outside. They're serving small steaming cups of - stew? Soup? And warm bread filled with different things, and you hadn't really noticed it before, but now that you were looking at - and smelling - the food, you were starving.

By the time you've registered the selection, he's already ordered for the both of you, and then the guy at the cart is offering you a brown paper bag and Viktor is moving again, and you take a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

You can see him smile before he answers.

"Well," he says, "I was thinking we could take advantage of the great hall being empty, and eat there." He turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "I can only imagine how displeased the Academy Staff would be if we risked dirtying their marble floors with common food."

"Oh, really, you can only imagine?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Are you insinuating I have experience with matters such as these?"

"Yes," you answer, opening the paper bag to study its contents while you walked.

He hums in answer. "I am shocked by your accusations." He says, then, clearly fighting a smile, "I would never get caught breaking such a boring rule."

You smile now, too. "Right," you answer, "only the interesting ones."

The way he glances at you and smiles is more than enough of a response.

He stops at one of the long tables at the grand hall, and as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down, you place down the paper bag and do the same. He starts unpacking the contents of the bag, focused, placing down steaming bowls with a spicy scent to them, paper-covered wraps of something, utensils, and smaller bowls of... something colorful. Spices? Toppings?

Viktor opens the containers one by one, making the contents of the single takeaway bag look like a pretty impressive feast.

And you study him as he moves. Careful, confident in his movements, calm. While your insides felt like they were trying to hide, and had felt like that for... a good while now, he was calm like any other day. A rock-solid presence in the otherwise empty room.

"Are you not going to ask me?" you ask, "why I'm working through the winter break."

Viktor's only imminent reaction is the gentle lift of a single eyebrow.

"No," he answers, casually, and it sounds simple when he says it like that.

He meets your eyes, and that feels simple, too; because he is here, too.

It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that. He unwraps a folded paper napkin with careful fingers, and then places a steaming-soft bread in front of you.

You look at him for a moment, and then take a bite of the bread. It is soft and warm and heavenly, and when you taste the stew-soup-something, it's like it warms you down to your soul. You eat in silence; but it feels like there's a gentle bubble of understanding surrounding you.

You hold the warm bowl, and slowly, your hands shake less and less. The tension around your head gives away a little, too.

"Do you like the snow?" Viktor asks, and you follow his gaze out the window.

"I probably shouldn't," he continues, "the cold isn't exactly gentle on me. But it is pretty, I can't deny that."

You hum in answer. "Yeah," you agree with a small sigh, "it is beautiful."

His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head.

"Do you want to break another rule?" he asks, something michievous curling at the end of his words.

You tilt your head in response. "A more interesting one?"

"Infinitely," he responds with a smile, and you're already on your feet.

And that's how you end up breaking into the roof of the Academy with him. Or, it's probably not technically breaking, since he has the keys, but you definitely aren't supposed to be in there, so that's what it feels like.

It also feels... breathless. And not just because it feels illegal, but it's... it's beautiful, and he holds your hand in the dark stairway and doesn't let go when he guides you to the expanse of the roof, and there's snow floating down all around you-

and for a moment, it feels like you're the only two people in the world, surrounded by a gentle blanket of snow and silence.

Or... not-silence. There is a song softly floating through the air, like it's being reflected in the snowflakes all around you.

And Viktor is offering you a hand.

You furrow your brows as your head catches up with your heart. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"Would you say yes if I was?"

And that was the question, wasn't it;

would you?

Your head tries to butt in with should you, but... something still-soft and light in your heart comes in way too solid with a yes.

Yes, you would.

So you take his hand, and meet him halfway to an embrace. He pulls you close to his chest, and the dance is as gentle as the snowfall around you; just a soft sway from side to side, breathing in sync with the music.

And Viktor isn't sure if this is a good idea, but... you look like you're further away from that edge now, no-longer shaking, and... he hated seeing you in your head that deep, and if he could do anything to help you find your way back to yourself, he'd do that.

It feels a little selfish, this dance, but... it was difficult to justify that when you were in his arms, breathing calm and even.

"I really am fine," you tell him quietly, and he runs a hand up your back slowly. You swallow. "Or I will be, at least."

"I know," he breathes out, and he means it.

You close your eyes, and believe it.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #scribbles #ok this is a quick non-edited thing i might come back to this but i just wanted to post something for christmas #i hope everyone who sees this is doing ok and i just wanted to remind everyone that life is hard sometimes but we'll be ok #you know?#i was going to make this more spicy but it just sort of turned out like this #idk. might come back and edit/add more later #but i just wanted to do a lil thing for now.#stay safe everyone.#also this is a gentle reminder that you don't need to spend your holidays the traditional way if the traditional way sucks for you.

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aayakashii · 3 days ago

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🎄 MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄

How will you 🫵 spend your holidays with the boys?

These headcanons are mostly non-Christmas specific activities so everyone can feel included, no matter if you celebrate Christmas or not!!

Credits for the cozy prompts here!

Credits for the gifs here!

Frostheim

Jin

Drinking mulled wine.

It reminds him of when he snuck a sip from his mom's cup – feeling his cheeks warm and his mind get fuzzy. It was worth the light scolding he always received. As he grew up, however, the drink didn't taste as joyous as it used to. The spices held memories that were too painful to touch. Until you shared your cup with him during one Christmas night. And as he took a sip of your wine under your soft gaze, his cheeks warmed, and his mind grew fuzzy once again. But maybe it wasn't the drink's fault.

Tohma

Bundling up and taking a walk.

Granted, he already does it on the daily, but there's a special thing in the air when the year is ending; and the cold is seeping through the thickest of clothes; and you're right there, beside him, with your hand gripping his as if it was your lifeline. He knows he has a lot more resistance to the cold than you, and he enjoys it to the fullest. Seeing you bundled up, almost drowning inside his coats, waddling beside him like a penguin – he loves it. You're so cute. You're lucky he's a gentleman now.

Kaito

Baking cookies.

He thinks there's nothing more romantic than baking sweets with the person he's in love with. Wants to go through all of the cliches with you – putting flour on each other's noses and cheeks, sneaking a taste before it's done, making awfully shaped cookies just for the fun of it... it's the date of his dreams. It's only fair he'll try his best to make something you can't forget either.

Luca

Playing board games.

It reminds him of home. Of late nights with his parents and his brother, playfully arguing over plenty of colorful boards and weird pieces. However, playing games with his family after his brother disappeared became hard. It took him some time to realize he could enjoy it again with you. One night, under the dim lights and to the sound of your laughter and playful bickering, he felt his chest grow warm and his eyes soften as he looked at you, sat right across from him. He felt like he could keep trying again.

Vagastrom

Alan

Taking a long nap.

When was the last time Alan let his guard down? As he curls himself up on his couch, he feels like it must have happened in another lifetime. He focuses on his own breathing and his slow heartbeat – the soft, weighted blanket you had given him protects him from the cold outside, and he catches his own eyelids drooping. He feels comfortable. He feels safe. Before he drifts into a calm sleep, he makes a mental note to gather enough courage to ask you to make him company next time.

Leo

Lighting scented candles.

Self care wasn't exactly a foreign subject for Leo. He knew all there was to know about it. Yet, one thing still remained special whenever winter came around: the holiday themed candles. Gingerbread, nutmeg, peppermint... He pushed every themed candle into your arms whenever you two went shopping during this time of the year. It was his guilty pleasure; one of the few things he actually got excited about. You just have to give in to his whims (and pray you have no allergies).

Sho

Visiting the Christmas market.

Sho can handle crowds easily. Better than you, that's for sure. So you trust him when he invites you to stroll through the market, knowing he'll keep your hand in his as you two look at all the trinkets for sale and all the stall foods. You get each other small gifts – Sho gives you a miniature motorcycle keychain, and you give him a new bandana (which he puts it on his head immediately). As you two walk leisurely, hand in hand, through the busy street, he selfishly wishes he could just stay in this moment forever.

Jabberwock

Haru

Knitting a warm sweater.

He just finds more and more work for himself, even when he tries to relax; as if his body is fueled on responsibilities he creates for himself. If you point it out, Haru will only laugh and say he just wants everyone to have their own matching, ugly sweater. And he's steadfast on his goal. He wants his fingerprints visible when he's creating his very own family. You wearing an ugly sweater he made is just the first step.

Towa

Watching romantic movies.

Is it surprising to know that Towa is probably the biggest Hallmark fan? He could watch a thousand of the same "workaholic woman moves to small town and finds love" movies, and still wouldn't get tired of them. He talks of how he wants to recreate the "airport kiss" scenes, the "kiss under the rain" scenes, and the "kiss in front of an entire city" scenes. You tell him you can't offer him that much, but you can give him a kiss for every godawful movie he forced you to watch. And that's more than enough for him.

Ren

Listening to podcasts.

He doesn't like Christmas. Not surprising, I know. He just thrives in being a hater, and hating Christmas is essential to his persona. He will never admit, however, how much he loves the holiday atmosphere, and how perfect it is to tune into his favorite horror podcasts during the chilly, dark winter. You don't even point out that Halloween was two months ago anymore. You just cozy up next to him, and under fairylights and mistletoes, you get ready to listen to his favorite monster stories.

Sinostra

Taiga

Watching the snow fall.

He feels like the white snow awaken old, softer memories of a time long gone. He lays his head on your lap as you two hide in one of the school building's balconies, observing the snowflakes slowly coat the grass outside. You gently card your fingers through his tousled hair. Maybe he doesn't need to remember anything else if he can keep the memory of this moment in his mind, forever.

Romeo

Wearing warm pajamas.

They're fuzzy, soft to the touch. He can even feel his shoulders sagging as you straighten his pajamas and gently massage his shoulders. No need to yell, no need to fight, no need to worry about things falling apart and through his fingers. He shares his skincare with you in silence, and you accept it, in silence as well. The hum of his air conditioner is enough noise to fill the small, cozy little space you had created for him.

Ritsu

Doing a jigsaw puzzle.

There are no strict rules, no correct way of playing. Just a simple task with a simple goal. For once, he feels like he can be in silence and just properly enjoy your company while you two build some generic scenery together. Ritsu can just be, without the need to prove himself the smartest or the best in order to justify the space he occupies. For two to three hours, it's just you and him and nothing else.

Hotarubi

Subaru

Drinking hot chocolate.

The contrast between the japanese ambiance of Hotarubi and how "western" Christmas feels never fails to amaze Subaru. His favorite part of Christmas, however, isn't the decoration: it's the food. The sweets. He loves to warm his hands with a huge mug of hot chocolate, blushing every time you plop a few more marshmallows in his beverage. You spoil him, shoving every little sweet treat you find in his hands. He promises to eat them all, but only if you always join him in his indulgence.

Haku

Reading a good book.

It's not hard for Haku to have a good day, holiday or not. He just wants to laze around and have you tucked under his arm. That's all there is to it. He looks up from the new book you had just given him as a Christmas gift, only to see you handing him a mug of hot chocolate. He smiles, setting the book and the mug aside, and taps the seat right next to him, effectively trapping you under his arm. If he's being honest, he doesn't really care about christmas, but man, does he love christmas with you.

Zenji

Decorating for the season.

While Subaru usually worries about contrasting decorations, Zenji makes sure to place fairylights in every tatami room as soon as winter comes. He drags you around the dorm, his official helper, while he hangs ribbons and bells and mistletoes in every wall. When you ask him if he's hanging mistletoes on the doorways on purpose though, he looks at you with wide-eyed curiosity – he had no idea what you meant. Was there some tradition he wasn't aware of? Well, you're more than happy to teach him.

Obscuary

Lazing around

It's hard to break his habits. You do manage to shoo him out of his room after announcing Rui and you would deep clean it, so it could be presentable during the new year. Ed is pretty sure you're scarred for life, but, well, you insisted, right? But it's the holiday time, and his undead heart feels a little bit for you. He invites you to stay at his now pristine room for a while, dragging you into a random, obscure youtube rabbit hole. At least his sheets are all clean.

Rui

Going ice-skating.

Isn't it the perfect date? Being able to show off his glorious skating abilities, all while being your knight in shining armor, ready to catch you if you fall. He loves the angry red of your nose and cheeks and the awe in your face as you look at the way the sun reflects on the ice. Rui can barely keep himself from smooching your face until you were red from his attention, not the cold. He can't wait to take you to a cafe date next.

Lyca

Doing arts and crafts.

He wants to give a gift to Santa, and who are you to say no when Lyca asks you for help? In fact, he wants to give gifts to everyone he knows as well: the blonde gigolo, moth eaten casanova, Harurin, Romi and you, of course. His room becomes a warzone of arts and crafts supplies – there's glitter, glue and colored paper everywhere. But cleaning doesn't even come to his mind as he gives you a cheeky grin, glitter all over his face, as he show you his little craft project for Santa. He'll catch him this year, for sure.

Mortkranken

Yuri

Listening to cozy playlists.

Holiday spirit is the one Yuri blames when he allows you to control the aux cord. He's so generous, only demanding that every song must be instrumental. His ears perk up while he works on his papers and you put some etheral music to play. Plastic Platina, you call it. He huffs. What a silly name. He wasn't expecting, however, to inadvertently hum to the repeating rhythm of the song, his work flowing a little more fluidly than he expected. Maybe he can give things other than classic a try. But only sometimes.

Jiro

Lounging by the fireplace.

His body feels a little cold most of the time. It's a common ailment of his after he had woken up from his coma. During winter, therefore, he allows himself to be dragged by your hands as you demand he sits in front of the fireplace. You place a weighted blanket on his shoulders and tuck it snuggly under his feet. You sit beside him, watching the fire crackle and nursing a mug of coffee. He looks at you, body flush against him and he feels his cheeks grow a litte warmer, much to his surprise. Being cold isn't so bad, when he has your company.

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abearinthewoods · 2 days ago

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One transmasc to another, please reflect on how your actions may cause actual harm to transfems.

A joke made in anger that is entirely unactionable does not warrant tattling to the organizations that are currently trying to strip all of us of our rights, and are looking for any reason to villainize our transfem comrades.

What’s been done cannot be undone, but please for all of our sakes remember that we’re all under the same boot, and licking said boot won’t make it any less likely to crush you too.

It’s our responsibility to take care of each other, learn from each other, and to look long and hard in the mirror when someone says your words and actions are harmful.

Solidarity. Solidarity. Solidarity.

(Most of this is answered here: https://www.tumblr.com/abearinthewoods/770794163004407808/okay-i-dont-know-a-lot-about-the-situation-but-i?source=share)

I need everybody to understand one uncomfortable but super important truth.

Class solidarity means an end to the oppression olympics.

You should never be looking in your neighbor's bowl to see if they have more than you, only to see if they have enough.

Like lets take a step back for a quick moment and recap whats going on here. She made jokes about killing one of the most unsupported and invisible members of the LGBTQ community, because why?

Like no, lets actually address that.

Trans men want to use terms like trans misandry and trans androphobia to talk about their oppression, not terms like trans misogyny and trans emasculation. and for this they got bomb and death threats from other people in the trans community?!?!?!?!?!?

Because trans men want to use words centered around their their hatchling gender, not their egg gender, to describe their oppression, because they don't want to center their discussions about their issues around some axis of women as the most oppressed, they got hit with a massively outsized amount of hate from (a tiny collection of, lets be very fucking clear here.) mostly trans fems who drunk a little too much of radfem's cis-male hate that they decided to transpose onto trans men. All escalating to bomb threats which my inbox is now also full of.

This is your brain on oppression olympics.

This is the threat to class solidarity.

This is exactly what they want. For us to be fighting over who has it worse. I don't give a fuck who has it better or who has it worse, and i sure as fuck don't care about any narratives that center this question around one's identity or demographics as some kind of universal truths that overrides individually.

Even when I do bring up ways in which cis or trans men have it worse, or ways in which women commit crimes more than men, I try to focus it on purely countering the opposite narrative, to make sure I am only pushing the pendulum back towards the center, nothing more.

No experience is universal and arguments about stats and oppression and privilege tend to paper over peoples individuality.

Solitary means respecting how we are different. How that changes how we all experience the world. You can't tell a trans man you have it worse than him without disrespecting this because you can not know his life, what he went thru, how his brain's chemistry makes minor changes to how he sees or deals with adversity that build up over time, or how the same difficulties may be harder or easier for somebody to handle or overcome based how they were raised or what other experiences they went thru.

There is a reason why countries who are not at war with each other fly their flags all at the same height; never flying their flag above their ally's flag. They stand as one. United. Because that is what solitary actually means.

We stand at a fork. Down one path is trans men using words like trans misandry to talk about their oppression and trans rad fems on tumblr not interjecting with some bullshit, and down the other path is trans men still using words like trans misandry, but also the hostility comes out and you'll get shit like them telling the same trans radfems to stop calling their oppression trans misogyny, and start calling it trans misandry, and the whole world goes blind. Because i've seen how understandably upset trans women have gotten at me when they've mistakenly thought i was actually suggesting that, its not a blow in the gender war we'll come back from if it enters the discourse.

(as an aside thought experiment, its actually kinda hard to truly only be sexist in one direction. like one could argue that slutshaming is implying there is something dirty or unclean about men/manliness that they 'taint' women with by having sex with them. but you'd rightly call me dick if MRAs started showing up to the local feminism meet and interjecting that every time the topic comes up. And as an MRA, So would I. So please lets stop trying to argue over the "true" direction of acts of sexism and let people be individuals who experience and talk about it in their own way.)

((Final aside, it would make things easier for our intersex and enby brothers, sisters, and gender nonspecific siblings to cast aside this gendered concept of oppression))

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pendingnomdeplume · 2 days ago

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hold me hard and mellow pairing: hozier x female!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Miscommunications/Misunderstandings, Pining, Drunk Flirting, Drunk Sex words: 4.0k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Pillowtalk by Zayn divider by: sylusz

Though your 30th birthday was months ago, it’s difficult to ignore some of the changes that aging has brought on. You’ve noticed a few new gray hairs sprouting where there were none before, and your cheeks have lost some of the cherubic plumpness that made you look like a high schooler attempting to swindle shops for alcohol every time you wanted a beer. These changes don’t bother you. In fact, you’re excited to look a little bit older, more like your actual age.

What catches your attention is entirely different. Something embarrassing, really. Something that you’ve been mildly self-conscious of while living in a giant, moving tin can with several other people and absolutely no privacy.

It takes exactly one Google search to confirm what you already started to suspect.

Why am I so aroused all the time???

The question marks aren’t necessary, but they feel right given how perplexed you are by this development. What’s returned is page after page of different threads and message boards, all filled with women over the age of 30 confirming that, yes, their libido also increased with age. In fact, it seems fairly commonplace for women to experience their sexual peak a little bit later in life.

While you’re relieved that this phenomenon isn’t unusual, you’re still frustrated by the fact that you feel insatiable. There’s absolutely no time to take care of yourself as often as you’d like, no space with enough privacy to even try. Your bunk on the tour bus is your only sanctuary, but even then, the curtains are easily ripped from their velcro tabs, and someone is always awake when you’re at your most desperate.

Hotel rooms aren’t any better. You always end up sharing the space, which you can’t begrudge anyone for, really. It’s a matter of pragmatism made up for by all of the other perks of touring with Hozier—or, Andrew, as he prefers from colleagues.

Therein lies your other issue: Andrew is currently the bane of your entire fucking existence. Not for any malicious reason, it’s just…well, you have eyes, and he’s an attractive lad. A kind lad. Funny, sensitive, talented—the list goes on. But he’s Hozier, for Christ’s sake. If he’s not a household name by now, he’s very well on his way with the release of “Too Sweet,” perhaps to his chagrin.

Honestly, it’s just a silly crush that you would handle a lot better were it not for the fact that you live within 20 feet of the man constantly. You’re either singing on stage behind him, or sitting a stone’s throw away from him on the bus. The only reprieve you get is on hotel nights, but even then, you’ve been dragged out for dinner and drinks on several occasions, somehow always ending up either seated directly across from him or squished into a booth next to him.

Recently, you’ve been trying to maintain a reasonable distance. You’ve stepped out of rooms he’s entered, hidden around corners as he strides by, and recused yourself from group outings for your own peace. It’s not as though anything would ever come of your crush, and it’s better to maintain space than force yourself into proximity to him and suffer at the hands of your own libido.

Honestly, you never expected him to take notice. Sure, he’s kind to you, and he’ll strike up a conversation with you when he’s in the mood, but otherwise, you’ve always thought of yourself as inconsequential. Not like Alex or Rory who have been with him since the beginning. Not like Larissa who enmeshes themself into the fold with their radiating energy and charm, nor Kamilah who is the human embodiment of glee.

Tonight is another night of planned avoidance. The group is getting ready to go out for dinner and enjoy their evening off before the show the next night. You’ve already declined the invitation in the group chat, already fended off Joy and Mel who follow you with exaggerated pouts and pleas. In the end, they respect your decision to stay behind and promise to bring something back for you.

With the next few hours to yourself, you curl up in bed and crack open the same book you’ve been attempting to read for the past few days—some fantasy novel with a gratuitous amount of steamy, spicy scenes that are…a little silly, if you’re being honest. But it’s fun, nearly brainless entertainment. A dessert of a novel, or perhaps the after-dinner mint.

A quiet, polite knock at the door startles you out of your reading not even 20 minutes later. You wonder if it’s Mel, if she forgot her damn room key again, and hop out of bed in your pajama shorts and tank top without another thought.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to find that it’s Andrew on the other side, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh, hey!” You greet, befuddlement obvious in your voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a few beats of silence as you stare at each other, until you finally ask, “Did…did you need something, or…?” Because, really, why the fuck is he here?

He’s quiet as he studies you, head tilting to one side. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his scrutiny before—at least, not that you’re aware of, anyway. It’s slightly intimidating, mostly because of his stature, but also because his attention is solely directed on you in a way you haven’t experienced previously.

Finally, he lets out a little huff and asks, “Are you avoiding me?”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. You quickly snap it shut, a flush already making your ears go hot.

“No! Of course not! What gave you that impression?” Lies, lies, lies, but what are you supposed to say to a question like that?

Andrew looks rightfully unconvinced. “I just…haven’t seen you around lately.”

He noticed?

“Right, yeah, uh…” You flounder for a response, rubbing your clammy palms against your shorts. “I’ve just—I’ve been busy, y’know? With stuff. And things.”

“Stuff and things,” Andrew repeats back slowly with a half-smile.

You nod, smile tightly. “Mhm. Stuff and things. Matters, even! And, um…affairs. States of affairs.”

“Of course.” He nods sagely. “It just seems like one of those very important matters that you’re tending to might be avoiding me.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “It’s—I’m not—” You’re beginning to panic, trying to think of anything to get out of this conversation that doesn’t involve slamming the door in his face.

“Because you haven’t gone out with us in weeks,” he continues as you stammer. “And you’re fairly quick to leave any room that I enter. Or, is that just a coincidence?”

Annoyance buzzes beneath your skin.

“There have been stranger occurrences, I’m sure,” you reply evenly.

“Right. I’m sure.” He pulls a grimace of a smile, lips pressed together tightly as he knocks once on the doorframe before taking a step back. He almost looks dejected, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re ready to close the door on him, ready to curl back up under the blankets and try to sleep off your embarrassment. Just as he begins to turn away, Andrew stops and turns back to you with a curious half-smile.

“Would you like to go down to the hotel bar with me, then?”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs easily, assuredly. “Since you’re not avoiding me, come down and get a drink with me.”

Anxiety grips your heart as your stomach flutters. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Being alone with Andrew under the influence of alcohol? You can only imagine that being a one-way ticket to a massive disaster that ends with you getting kicked off the tour entirely. God knows what dumb shite will spill out of your mouth the moment you start to feel loose.

His smile turns coy as he tilts his head. “Or I could always bring something up for you. They’ve a lovely wine list here.”

You swallow, searching his face as he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Finally, you sigh and let your head rest against the doorframe. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Andrew laughs, shakes his head. “No. Unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your own head. “I would never. Can you give me a few minutes, though? I can’t go down looking like this.”

He waits outside like a gentleman, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiles as you reappear in clothes more suitable for a public setting—merely a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it’s good enough for a booth in the dimly lit, fairly empty hotel bar.

You order a glass of blush wine, smirking when Andrew requests the bottle for the table instead.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It’s light, airy, asked as a joke and nothing more.

Andrew looks at you with a sly tilt of his head. “Trying to find reasons for you to stay a while.”

The answer stuns you, your face going pink as you avoid the waiter’s amused expression.

He orders a glass of Woodford Reserve, neat. When the waiter drops it off, he holds it out to you for a taste, and you hold out your wine glass in turn. The whiskey is bitter, spicy, and makes you cough into the crook of your elbow as the amber liquid burns all the way down to your stomach.

“Good lord,” you splutter as he grins at you. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

You study him as he sips from your wine glass, as he tilts his head in thought and nods to himself assuredly before commenting that it’s actually quite good despite blush wines not being his thing.

“So…” you start, hands folded on the table as you level his stare.

“So…” he echoes as he rests his head in his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you. “Straight to it then, yeah?”

He shrugs, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s not typically how I operate.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. “And what makes me the lucky one to be graced with your focus and attention?”

Andrew chuckles. “I think you’re trying to dodge my question.”

“And I think you’re trying to dodge mine.” You smirk before taking a sip from your glass.

There’s a brief pause as he studies your face. “Honestly? I think my ego is a little bruised.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, “You can’t deny that you’re avoiding me, yeah? It’s been fairly obvious. And I…well, you've been on my mind, is all.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. He’d been thinking of you? Apparently so, and often enough that he’s not only noticed the distance you’ve maintained from him, he’s actually hurt by it. The thought of hurting him at all makes your chest feel tight.

“It’s not personal,” you say weakly.

“Feels personal,” he retorts. “Have I done something or said something to…I don’t know, make you not want to be around me?”

“No! No. Of course not.”

Andrew frowns. “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I? I try not to be too forward, but I suppose it’s the Pisces in me. Or something. Alex told me that once, I don’t know.”

You blink. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable.” Not in the way he would expect, anyway.

His cheeks turn rosy as he runs a hand through his curls. He seems almost frustrated, as though your answers perplex him further. Andrew takes another sip from his drink, and you decide to follow suit, gulping down the last of your wine. Before you can even reach for it, Andrew takes the bottle and begins to pour a generous refill into your glass.

You meet his eyes as he sets the bottle back down with a thud before bringing the glass up to your lips again. He watches you carefully, unable to maintain your stare as his eyes flit to your mouth, your throat, your fingers carefully curled around the stem.

“Good. Grand.” He sighs. “If I haven’t made you…I mean, is there something else, then?” Your puzzled expression makes him frown. “Or, someone else, rather?”

The gears slowly begin to turn in your mind.

“Someone…else?”

It must be your tone, the obvious confusion in your voice that clues him in, a look of understanding softening his features. Embarrassment quickly overtakes him as he covers his reddening face with a nervous laugh.

“You—you’ve no idea what I’m—? Oh, Jesus…” He avoids your eyes as he slams back the remainder of his drink in one go, then sets the glass down with a wince and a grimace. “I think we may have a misunderstanding here.”

Your own embarrassment has you speechless, mouth opening and closing as you process what he’s just said. Surely, he didn’t mean…? No, he couldn’t mean that, because things like that don’t just happen, at least not to you. Not when it’s Andrew of all people.

It’s the wine that grips your throat and controls your voice, and you laugh incredulously as you ask, “Oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

He groans into his hands, then smooths them back over his hair before collapsing onto the table with a laugh. His face is tinged pink with drunken embarrassment, and he smiles at you before turning to hide his face in his arms.

“In no uncertain terms,” comes his muffled reply.

You laugh again and cover your own face, unsure of what to say. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your pulse thumping as a familiar heat begins to pool in your stomach.

After a moment, Andrew lifts his head again and pulls himself from the table until he’s upright once more. His eyes are tinged red now, bloodshot from booze. Your own head swims as you rest your head in your hand and smile at him warmly.

“D’you want to know why I was avoiding you?” You avert your gaze to the table, then sigh before the words tumble from your mouth. “Because you’re too fucking attractive. How am I supposed to get anything done when you walk around looking like this?”

He splutters a laugh as you gesture vaguely towards him. “Oh?”

The wine bottle is nearly empty now as you encourage him to pour some for himself in the empty glass on the table.

“It’s terribly inconsiderate of you,” you hum, and you catch his grin before he takes a drink.

Andrew grins. “My apologies for being such a distraction. I’d no idea I caused such distress.”

You chuckle and eye him coyly. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it distress.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Hmm…” You scrunch your face as you pretend to think. “Intrigue, certainly...and the uncanny ability to make me—”

“Anything else for you?” The waiter’s voice startles you both, and you whip your head up to look at him wondering how much of that he heard. If he’s heard anything, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he mostly looks bored, and you can see the black booklet in his hand that surely contains the check.

Andrew is quick to take it and scribbles in his room number for the charge, nearly shoving the booklet back into the waiter’s hands with hasty thanks.

You’re both drunk enough to make bad decisions that you know you’ll regret come morning, but it’s difficult to care about that when he’s pressing you back against the wall in the elevator and kissing you like you’re his only source of air. When his hands are all over you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as the doors open to let you onto his floor.

You stumble over yourself with a whispered, “Shit!” as he pulls you over the threshold of his room, and he laughs and apologizes before flipping a light on.

Andrew is a messy creature, and his room looks as though his overnight bag spontaneously exploded while he was out. It’s weirdly charming, another reminder that he is, in fact, just a regular fucking guy with standard quirks.

A thrill runs through you when he kisses you again, softer this time as he cradles your face in his hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The question is sudden, his eyes wide as he searches for any hint of doubt.

You’re quiet for a moment as you turn the question over in your mind. Even in an inebriated state, he’s still so concerned about your comfort, your consent. It’s unsurprising given how anxious he seems in general, but it’s sweet all the same.

Finally, you rest a hand on his arm and look up at him with a smirk. “What I was saying earlier, about you and intrigue…well, you have a knack for making me weak in the knees, amongst other things. It’s typically based on your proximity, though.”

You see his mouth turn up in a half-smile just before he crowds closer to you, pulling you flush against him as you wrap your arms around his neck and laugh into another kiss.

“I don’t normally do this,” he breathes just before moving to kiss along your neck.

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” You gasp when he bites down, not hard enough to cause any truly lasting damage, but enough to know that you’ll still be wearing his marks come morning. A thrilling thought, though you’re sure you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and Larissa for details later on.

Your hoodie is in the way, impeding his access, and he steps away to tug at the hem until you’re helping him peel it off. He stares at your chest, clearly surprised by your lack of bra and the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

“In my defense,” you say with a smirk, “I didn’t expect all of this to happen.”

He laughs quietly as he walks you back towards the bed. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

The sheets are rumpled and easily kicked away as you shuffle back on the mattress. Andrew drops kisses along chest, teeth grazing your skin and leaving little imprints. You squeak when he shoves your shirt up roughly, and he throws an apologetic look your way.

“Sorry, just a bit enthusiastic,” he muses.

You laugh, feeling breathless as his hands wander along your newly bared skin.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

His responding laugh— a low, warm sound, sweet as honey—makes you blush. You gasp when he gently bites your nipple just before taking it into his mouth. It sends a shiver through you as he moves to the other, and you squirm beneath him, almost glad that you’re too drunk to really be embarrassed at the moment.

Once your jeans are off and tossed away, Andrew freezes, his eyes greedily taking in your nearly nude body before snapping back up to meet your stare. He dips a hand beneath the waistband of your panties—a simple black pair without any details or flair, because you didn’t expect to have Andrew’s hand shoved into them like this.

He seems surprised to find you an already slick mess, his fingers dipping easily into you before pulling them back to rub your clit in slow circles.

“I told you,” you huff a harsh laugh that breaks into a small moan. “Weak in the knees, amongst other things.”

Andrew’s grin is obscured by his hair that curtains his face. He continues to touch you slowly, methodically, while capturing you in a kiss and swallowing down every little sound that escapes you.

He breaks the kiss with a small gasp and asks, “What do you—how do you want to—?”

You’re far too impatient for anything that isn’t his cock inside of you right fucking now. You’re aching, feeling empty in a way that you have so many times over the past few weeks. Except this time, the object of your affections is stumbling over himself to rummage through his bag after you ask about protection.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse as he approaches you again with something square in hand.

“So are you,” he shoots back, and he watches in awe as you slip your underwear off and cast them aside without batting an eye, emboldened.

He licks his lips before saying weakly, “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Andrew is far too impatient to remove everything, barely able to focus on even shoving his own jeans down and hastily rolling on a condom with shaky hands.

The feeling as he presses into you is heavenly, so full, warm, and satisfying. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder as he sets an even pace. The slick sound of your arousal makes you blush, but it’s obvious how much it spurs him on, delighting in your body’s reaction to him, his touch, his everything.

Weeks of wishing and wanting, and now you can’t hold back your moans as he fucks you the way you’ve imagined. You can feel the way he stretches you as he fills you, and he gasps when you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes screwing shut as he takes a deep breath.

You reach up and brush a stray curl from his face. “Are you okay?”

When he opens his eyes, he gives you a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, yes, grand,” he huffs, then lets his head fall forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He grips your thigh and squeezes gently, a silent bid to get your legs around him.

At first, he’s slow, taking his time as he kisses you between breathy laughs and whispered swears. It isn’t until you murmur, “You don’t have to treat me so preciously,” in his ear that he hums and shifts to press your legs further, damn near folding you in half. But it’s good, so fucking good, and you can barely form a thought as your eyes roll back and flutter as he picks up his pace.

And, Jesus, how are you already so close to your peak? Another testament to your seemingly insatiable desire. You cry out when he rubs a thumb against your clit roughly, out of sync with his thrusts as you press back and grind against his palm.

The stimulation is enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Tears blur your vision as you let out small, sobbing moans against his neck. Each wave of pleasure has you clenching down around him. and then he’s snapping his hips one, two, three more times before groaning in your ear while his cock twitches with his release.

Andrew is quick to collect you into his arms after collapsing next to you in bed. He reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over both of you, seemingly more of a courtesy than anything. You allow yourself to relax into him, nuzzling his shoulder before settling with your head on his chest.

“Wow,” he says after his breathing has evened, and he laughs quietly as he squeezes you.

“Yeah,” you hum.

There’s another stretch of silence, and your eyes begin to feel heavy as you follow the pattern of his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Another small laugh from him stirs you, and you look up at him questioningly.

“We’re going to feel fucking awful tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is a hungover breakfast a proper first date, d’you think?”

You grin at him and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Proper? No. But we haven’t done things by the book so far.”

#hozier fic #hozier x reader #sailor scout stories #hozier smut #it's 10:36 PM on December 25th so Merry Christmas ya filthy animals #and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate

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luimagines · 1 day ago

Note

Ok, now what would the links do if the group was travelling somewhere that's really cold and snowy, and the group is separated in a snow storm? Now imagine reader and the link in question are close, lovers perhaps, perhaps they're just besties, but the point is they're lost, seperated by from the group, and it's cold af-

I personally think being stuck with twilight would be the best scenario here, because Wolfie is a living heater. Problem solved.

And also, wild has all the right gear for any weather so you'd probably be ok with him too.

BUT- what're your thoughts? Who do you think would handle this well and who would let reader freeze on accident?

I hope you don't mind if I do headcanons on this one! It'll just make it easier to answer your questions that way. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Legend

Oh honey, you're in good hands.

You know he's got like 15 different items to help you out.

He's already putting on his gear and throwing stuff at you to keep you both warm

He's complaining the entire time though.

Legend's probably been through a situation like this before and now he's just cursing his luck

He's more annoyed than worried

Because of course this had to happen to him

Of all people

He might... leave you behind by mistake. Or at least begin to do so since he's used to continuing on in poor conditions

Yell at him if his pace begins to speed up and you're struggling to catch up.

He'll slow down when he realizes that you don't exactly have the same experience as he does

He'll let you catch up and go at your speed for a little while

Only to get re-annoyed with the circumstances and begin power-walking through the snow again.

He would probably try going through the night to catch up with the rest of the group so you would need to slow him down

Freezing through the night is not a concern of his.

He's too pissed off to care.

Is probably causing all the snow to melt around him in his rage.

....Maybe don't try to make conversation

Let him stomp it out

Sky

Oh no

Oh dear

Good luck

Now he's from the highlands

Get it?

Because the islands are high- they- they're in the Sky- Nevermind

That being said, he's used to colder temperatures

Not freezing

Hear that?

He's doomed.

Doomed I say!

And so are you if someone doesn't get their act together!!!

You both are better off staying put and huddling for warmth.

It's a good thing Sky gives great hugs.

Just wait for the others to come find you and regroup.

Not that Sky is going to want to stay put and wait on someone else.

He's still a Link after all

But good golly you better find a way to keep him put

Sit on him if you have to

Solves both problems

Four

He's going to freeze as well.

He may have an item or two that can help him.

But he's small, ok?

He doesn't have a lot of body heat to go around.

And he's not going to risk it and go out into a storm with ill-equipped gear and a lack of direction

No sir, he won't.

You are both going to sit down and wait.

He tries to avoid it early on, but after a few hours, fire or no fire, he will eventually latch onto you like a koala

I don't make the rules.

Snuggle time!

Please don't let him fall asleep.

That being said, I think that with the two of you missing, the group find you in record time.

You don't have to wait long in the snow storm until rescue comes.

So no need to panic

You both are going to be a-ok. :)

Time

He is on high alert the second you've been separated from the group.

Time makes sure that you are as close to him as physically possible.

He also makes sure to put away his armor. That amount of metal would have him frozen faster than a poe with an ice rod.

He (most likely) will have his equipment to deal with the cold, but his main concern will be on you the entire time.

Not that Time has a lot of ways to deal with the cold to begin with.

I'd imagine that he burns brighter than more so the cold won't bother him as much.

But being out in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard is not very conducive for a survivable experience.

Instantly tries to find a cave instead.

Does not hesitate to use Din's Power to warm the air and keep a fire going.

He somehow also keeps you from burning when he uses said power.

Don't ask me how. I'm using Suspension of Belief.

Once the fire has started, he'll sit you down and drag you close.

Cuddles for warmth. Obviously. Unless? o.o

Kidding.

Mostly.

Time goes full provider mode.

You cannot convince me that the dude who essentially played hero for his entire life will be able to turn that off on a whim

He's a caretaker and he's going to keep you both alive no. matter. what.

The others are going to have to wait. You come first.

Twilight

Oh, he's fine.

He's borderline built for this weather, you kidding?

However, he knows that you both have to reconvene with the group at some point.

So out comes Wolfie.

He can track like the best of them but may forget that you can't travel through it as well as he can.

He makes sure to keep you close.

You may have to have a hand on him at all times as he both try to make your way through the weather.

When you get too cold to move on though, Twilight transforms back into his hylian form and gives you his best gear.

He takes of the wolf pelt and wraps you in it.

Then he takes out all the other clothes that he has and puts them on himself.

They're lighter than his best gear but he's going to put as many layers as he can tolerate

Then he picks you up and carries you until he finds a safe place where you can spend the night.

He (like many in his family) is a man of action and is going to make sure you have nothing to worry about.

Twilight is going to forget that you're a team in his effort to keep everything under control

He means well so don't take it to heart

It's how he manages his stress

Your options are let him do what he wants and go along with it or try to (kindly) remind him that you can do just as much as he can

Results may vary for option number two.

Warrior

Fire rod?

Fire rod.

No need to worry he's going to have some fun.

You might have to worry about having your eyebrows singed off instead.

But let's just say the cold is not going to be a problem for the foreseeable future.

What's more worrying is trying to find your way back to the group.

That is going to be a problem and a half.

Kinda.

I'm tempted to say that Warrior shoots multiple fire columns into the sky to act like giant magical flares.

....Hopefully nothing else catches on fire.

You have to admit though, it looks awesome.

Your best bet would be that the others find you first before you find them because Warrior is not the best tracker known to man.

Wolfie is going to be your best friend.

Warrior cries when he sees Woflie.

He blames it on the wind chill on his eyes.

Wolfie knows better. XD

Wind

Help this poor child.

He's from an island.

A tropical island.

Not to mention he's just a kid!

Sure he's brave and smart and resourceful but to be trapped in a snowstorm?

He's not going to know what to do.

You better have a better inkling of how to handle yourselves.

Or you better place your bets in the group trying to find you first.

But he's not going to be of much help.

Would most likely be a liability in a situation like this.

I'm not saying that to be mean. I know he'd want to do his best to help and to pull his own weight and probably do most of the work since he's "The Hero".

But it's that same attitude that is going to put him in the way most of the time.

Not to mention that (to my knowledge) he doesn't have the gear to help out in the snow.

You're going to have to sit him down and give him a talkin' to because he's going to understand the problem you've both found yourselves in very easily.

Wolfie better be on his way and be there fast.

Wild

He's having the time of his life.

Between his gear to keep out the cold, his lack of self-preservation, and the fact that he can set anything on fire whenever he feels like- y'all are golden.

One of those people that'll accidentally take off without in their excitement, so please hang onto him so you're not left behind. ^.^*

Wild is also the one carrying all the food so you don't have to worry much on that front either.

Even if he didn't, he's also a hunter and is more than willing to hunt down dinner and cook it for you. :D

And that's still not even talking about his potions, his sheikah slate that can connect to Wind's Pirate Stone, and his ability to get lost figure out where he's going.

Aside from the boys already mentioned, if there was ever a need to draw the short stick and get stuck somewhere like this be aware that it could be very... very worse.

(Sorry Wild)

Granted, it'll probably take longer to find others.

Or for them to find you.

Let's be real, you're not going to be staying in one spot.

So! You're going to be set traveling with Wild!

That boy has everything covered! There's nothing for you to worry about!

Save for maybe him running off to explore without you.

And of course... because of that... prolonging the ability to return to the group...

Take pictures. At least have fun with it!

Hyrule

Ok- Mr. Streets Smarts would be an amazing bet to rely on.

He may not be the best tracker, but he knows his stuff.

Hyrule has an amazing sense of direction.

He may have a bad habit of wandering off.

But all those who wander are not always lost, you know what I'm saying?

You may be separated from the group but that doesn't mean that there's no way to find shelter of a nice place to camp.

Hyrule can sniff out this stuff (not literally)

It may not lead you both back to the group, but there's no reason to fear when Hyrule is here!

That being said, he's skin and bones.

This kid needs more layers.

Whether you headcanon him being part fairy or not, I can't imagine the magic he has also equating to him higher blood pressure or a high body tempt to fight off the fact that his boy is gonna be trapped in a snow storm/very snowy area

It may be up to you to make sure he doesn't get hypothermia and freeze to death.

He can lead you out of a mess like that no problem

...It doesn't mean he can lead you back to the group, but something is better than nothing

But I can't imagine him being able to retain his heat very well.

It's going to be the roll of the dice with one y'all.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #i unfortunately gave up on Four's #i'm equally afraid y'all can tell #i had a headache when i wrote it #and stubbornly refused to take painkillers thinking that it would eventually just go away #i think that by the end I may have forgotten the purpose of the prompt #if i went off course I apologize DX

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bleedingreverie · 1 day ago

Text

Yanderes who keep you in a daze…

You wouldn’t even know where the door is, let alone how to get there. Every thought feels distant, your limbs too heavy, your mind too clouded. And he loves it that way. You’re soft, pliant, and so adorably helpless. Whatever fight you had in you has melted away, leaving you curled up in his arms, so warm and small against him.

Some yanderes do it for the sheer convenience.

You’re easier to handle like this, reduced to a sweet, giggling thing that clings to him without a care. You’ll whimper a little in protest at first, trying to remember what you were so upset about, but soon enough, you’ll forget. You always do. You’ll sigh softly, resting your head against his chest as he strokes your hair, humming softly like he’s soothing a child.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips brushing your forehead. “So much better now, aren’t you?”

And you are. Or at least, that’s what you think in your hazy state. You even start to lean into his touch, pressing closer as he wraps his arms around you. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing under the hem of your shorts. You don’t stop him. You can’t. All you can do is let out a soft, sleepy sound as his hand moves lower still, his voice in your ear a low murmur of praise.

“You’re perfect like this,” he says, his breath warm against your neck.

Other yanderes enjoy it for entirely different reasons.

He thrives on the sight of you stumbling around, dizzy and disoriented, like a child after spinning too many times in a circle. He watches with an almost gleeful expression as you try to push him away with those weak, clumsy hands of yours. Your attempts to fight back make him laugh—deep, genuine laughter that only makes your cheeks flush.

“What’s that? You’re trying to stop me?” he teases, catching your wrists with ease. “So scary. I’m absolutely terrified.”

He’ll let you go, just to see you try again, toying with you as if it’s a game. You swing at him, but your hits are nothing more than playful taps, and he’s grinning like a wolf, letting you wear yourself out. It never takes long. Soon enough, you’re collapsing against him, breathless and flushed, too exhausted to keep up the charade.

“You’re adorable,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But you know you can’t win, right?”

By then, you’re too tired to care. You whimper softly as he pulls you closer, his hands wandering as he presses kisses to your cheeks and neck. You’ll whine, but you don’t resist—not really. He’s already won, and you both know it.

And then there are the ones who want the best of both worlds.

He keeps you this way because it makes you everything he’s ever wanted—soft, sweet, and utterly dependent on him. But he also loves the control it gives him, the way your struggles turn into nothing more than pitiful little attempts at rebellion. He can have you however he wants, whenever he wants, and all you’ll do is sigh and lean into him, your mind too far gone to do anything else.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Insert:

BNHA - Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Amajiki, Deku.

JJK - Sukuna, Mahito, Toji, Geto

HC - kuro, Kenma, Bokuto, Suna, Tendou

BLLK - Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Ego

DS - Zenitsu, Doma

HXH: Gon, Killua, Illumi, Hisoka, Uvogin, Meruem, knuckle.

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gaylordscooter · 2 days ago

Text

Cut Off

[warning for binge drinking and references to self harm]

He didn't know what to think when he saw the scars on his arms. He knew they were there but he never brought it up. He wasn't good at handling situations like that. He wasn't good at comforting others, he never has been. Not even when he was Sans.

And then Blue pointed out some of them seemed to be recent given that they weren't as healed as the others.

Instantly, he knew what caused those scars.

That argument they had. After he stabbed through his soul.

He avoided Killer as much as he could for about a whole week afterwards until they made up.

IT’S YOUR FAULT. YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE CARVED THOSE YOURSELF.

Horror seemed to come to the same conclusion. He stared at Dusk knowingly. He sighed and carefully put a shirt on Killer along with his usual jacket.

They weren't going to bother with changing his pants, comfort be damned. They've already intruded enough on his personal space.

Afterwards, Blue asked Horror to have a private talk with him in his room and that he’ll have one with Dusk after.

It was puzzling, but Horror went with him anyway, leaving Dusk alone with Killer.

It left him some time to ruminate, specifically about his relationship with him.

He stayed crouched down by the couch Killer was sleeping on.

They never labeled what it was—Killer seemingly didn't think of their relationship as anything special, which is what spurred that argument in the first place. Considering Killer's apology and the new scars on his arms, that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's true that initially it was casual. The kissing, the drugs, all of it was just to get away from everything.

Their horrible living circumstances, Nightmare, their guilt—those nightly meetings warded them off even if it was for just a little bit.

At first it didn't matter who the other person in the room was. It didn't matter who they were smoking with. They weren't…Killer wasn't thinking of him when they kissed. Initially.

And then it stemmed into something more, after the night they agreed to quit it with the drugs. Now they did matter to each other. The whole reason they hung out at night had changed. They liked each other's company. They liked each other.

Yet being trapped under Nightmare's grip evaporated any hope for a proper relationship. Killer always avoided talking about their relationship too—but Dusk didn't see that as the main problem.

But now they're somewhere new. Somewhere safe, hopefully.

SOMEWHERE YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE.

They could have a proper relationship now, he supposed, but diving into one immediately—living with each other—was starting to seem like a bad idea.

He cares about Killer a lot more than he ever expected to, so he wanted to do this right.

But what would that even entail? Was that even possible for them?

He studied Killer’s sleeping face. He didn't exactly look peaceful. He cupped his face with a hand. He felt him lean into the touch.

At least in their current states, he doubted it.

IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN. DO YOU THINK EITHER OF YOU CAN GET BETTER? AFTER EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE?

Horror walked into the room a few minutes later. “you're up,” he said.

Dusk looked at Killer, but he was still asleep.

“no, i meant it's your turn to talk to him.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and stood up. He walked into the hall even as Horror was trying to tell him where Blue’s room was located. He didn't need directions, it was pretty obvious with the light to his room being the only one that was on in the hallway.

Besides, he also had a concerningly easy time locating monsters in general, but that wasn't relevant in this specific instance.

He opened the door, which startled the skeleton inside.

His sockets widened. The room looked so similar to Papyrus’s, but it was off. While the layout was the exact same, the color of the carpet was different, the figures on his table weren't the same, and his bed looked like a rocket-ship instead of a car.

SEEMS FAMILIAR.

“Oh my god, I didn't realize my room would throw you off. Sorry,” Blue fretted. He was currently sitting on his bed with a clipboard and pen in hand. Seeing him in the room instead of Papyrus grounded him a bit.

Dusk waved his hand dismissively. It was fine.

“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the stool in front of his bed. It was kinda funny how professional he was trying to be despite the setting.

He sat down.

“So…I want to preface this by assuring that you and the others are not getting kicked out of the hub. I just wanted to talk to each of you one on one to properly sort things out. The hotel room you and Killer are staying at is actually a temporary place to stay before we build a permanent home. My question to you is: do you want to continue to live with Killer?”

Blue managed to ask the one question Dusk wasn't sure how to answer. He ended up staring at him blankly.

“This choice isn't permanent of course, you could always change your mind.”

It was mostly Killer’s choice to live in the same hotel room. He went along with it without complaint. They were used to living in the same building after all. It was comfortable, but it might've been too comfortable.

If they continued to live with each other, would they even find any motivation to go outside? He doubted Killer would.

YOU WOULDN’T EITHER.

Finally, Dusk shook his head.

Blue quickly jotted something down. “Alright. Um, another thing I wanted to mention. I don't know anything about what you guys went through when you were under Nightmare’s captivity, but I know it must've been rough—and I’m not exactly licensed—but if you need someone to talk to I’m available.”

Dusk looked at him blankly. It clicked for him that the torn-up coat Blue was wearing was a lab coat. This guy was a wannabe doctor.

His silence only made the other skeleton nervous. His eyelights darted from side to side as he waited for a response. When he didn't get one he cleared his metaphorical throat and went on, “What I mean to say is, I’m a therapist—again not officially, but it's not like I can get licensed anymore—but that's besides the point! I got a PhD in psychology, so I have the knowledge…Okay maybe I forgot some of it…Most of it. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Dusk perked up. If this guy had knowledge in that field he could probably help Killer better than he could ever. That was a pretty big “if” considering his questionable qualification, but Dusk knew with how things were now, he wouldn't be able to provide the support Killer needs. He was hardly keeping it together himself, he couldn't provide comfort for him for much longer without being dragged down too. For lack of a better way of wording it.

Hell, the only reason he's been keeping it together was out of pure stubbornness to make sure Killer was okay. He couldn't keep that up for long, that was for sure.

If they were going to live on their own, Killer would need someone else to support him.

OR ELSE HE’LL KILL HIMSELF.

can you not.

He glared into Blue’s eyelights. Did he really want this guy to be the one to do it?

Who else would it be? Horror?

Hell no. He's also got enough to deal with on his own.

“you can help?” he asked.

Blue’s sockets widened. “I…like to think so?”

That wasn't the most confident answer.

CAN YOU BLAME HIM? IT’S HARD TO HELP SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T DESERVE IT.

shut up.

“watch over killer.”

He watched Blue’s grip on his pen tighten.

“Okay,” he said.

No, he wasn't satisfied with that. He needed to be sure.

“promise me.”

Blue blinked in surprise, before a look of conviction crossed his face. “I promise. I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

LIAR.

He wrote something down again. “Um, is there anything I could do to help you?”

Dusk was about to shake his head, but then he thought of something.

HEY.

“medication.”

“Oh um, I don't have access to any medication…what specifically did you want them for?”

He pointed at the side of his skull.

Blue cocked his head as he tried to understand. “Headaches?”

…Well that was a problem too but not the one he was thinking about. He shook his head.

“Uhh, hearing? Do you have a hard time hearing or—no wait, that wouldn't make sense, are you having auditory hallucinations?”

Honestly he wasn't sure if the voice in his head was a hallucination or something else. He knew it wasn't actually Papyrus. Though that did take him an embarrassingly long time to figure out.

I AM PAPYRUS. YOU JUST CONVINCED YOURSELF OTHERWISE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T FACE IT THAT I HATE YOU.

Yeah, that wasn't Papyrus, but he still had no clue what this was. He shrugged.

“If they're hallucinations, antipsychotics could probably help. It doesn't always work though…but I probably wouldn't be able to get you any in the first place and I’d have to make sure they're hallucinations first,” he rambled. “What are you hearing, exactly? If you don't mind me asking.”

DON’T TELL HIM. YOU ALREADY SEEM INSANE ENOUGH AS IS.

Dusk’s hands gripped his arms as he curled into himself as much as he could on the stool. He didn't want to speak anymore, but he had to get this out.

DO YOU? IT’LL ONLY PUT YOU IN DANGER.

He pointed at Blue’s clipboard.

“Oh! Do you want to write it down?” Blue put a clean sheet of paper on top before handing it along with his pen over to Dusk.

He hesitated before writing down the first word, but once he started the rest was written quickly. He handed it back for Blue to read before the dumb voice in his head could protest.

The look on Blue’s face shifted as he read. His eyelights flicked up to Dusk as he continued and then he put the clipboard down off to the side. He covered his mouth with a hand as he processed what he read. Blue was looking everywhere but at him. It seemed he couldn't bring himself to face Dusk anymore.

I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

“That's…that's horrible, having to deal with that, I’m sorry,” he said.

Dusk didn't expect sympathy. He just told him that he killed his own brother and he was plagued by his voice ever since. If anything—

YOU DESERVE THAT.

Blue’s voice got quieter, “i—i have something i need to confess.” He clasped his hands together tightly. “I already knew that you killed your brother.”

Dusk’s sockets narrowed. He curled his hands into fists but he remained seated.

Blue had the gall to shut his sockets, “I know more than I should about you and the other two. You saw the book with my notes. I wasn't sure if any of you actually read through it, but there's an entry on other versions of you guys. They're not exactly the same as you, so I don't know exact details but I know you and Killer have…murdered a lot of monsters.” Once he finished talking, he finally opened his sockets. He hesitantly looked at Dusk.

HE KNOWS ABOUT ALL OF YOUR SINS.

That only made his actions more confusing.

“why are you trying to help us, then?”

It seemed Blue wasn't expecting to be asked this question because all of his anxiety washed away and was replaced with exasperation. “I told you guys already that I want to. I get that it's hard to trust me when you hardly know me but can't you suspend your doubts at least a little bit? Sure, you've hurt a lot of monsters, but that's no excuse for you to give up on ever being good again. Everyone can—”

“don't finish that sentence,” Dusk said.

Blue’s breath hitched as he was interrupted. “right, sorry.”

Everyone can be a great person if they try. That's what he was going to say.

Of course the person trying to help them is so similar to Papyrus. It was a cruel joke, really.

Well, this wasn't exactly a joke. It wasn't funny in the slightest.

Blue cleared his throat, “After I finish talking to Killer, I’ll take you all to your new homes in the Hub. If you don't have any questions that will be all. I'd appreciate it if you told Killer to come over here.”

Even if he did have questions he was frankly too preoccupied with the upcoming conversation he was going to have with Killer. So he simply gave him a nod and got up to walk out.

Once he got to the living room he saw that Killer was awake. He’ll never get over how Killer lights up whenever he sees him. It was—he wasn't used to it.

His brief exchange with him was awkward. He sighed once Killer went over to Blue's room. He didn't mention anything about living apart yet. He probably should've done so before sending him over, but he wanted to put it off for as long as he could.

Which isn't for long at all.

He sat on the couch next to Horror, dreadfully awaiting when he’d return and he'd have to explain everything.

At first he thought Horror was going to be mercifully silent, but after a minute of silence he spoke up.

“so, are you and killer still gonna share a room?”

Dusk threw his head back against the couch with a groan.

“i’m taking that as a no. good for you.”

Dusk glared at him.

Horror shrugged. “what? i’m being honest. it is good for you, and probably killer. you two are…” he trailed off trying to find the right word, “hazardous, together.”

“you think so?” Dusk signed frantically.

Horror raised a brow bone. “is that sarcasm?”

Dusk fell back against the couch again, deflated. Hazardous? That was one way to describe their relationship. How many injuries have they caused each other?

It was to let off steam, was the excuse they had, but considering the scars was it just another way Killer would hurt himself?

The thought made him sick.

HE’S USING YOU.

What did that even mean at this point?

He couldn't answer.

“so me and papyrus are gonna move into our own house, separate from the rest of the guys. it's gonna be weird getting used to living with him again.”

Showoff.

THAT’S NOT SHOWING OFF. YOU KILLED ME! THAT WAS EASILY PREVENTABLE!

It wasn't that simple but he has a point. He gave Horror a thumbs up. Good for him.

“i’m mostly saying that just in case you come over to visit me. i know it's hard for you to be near him, so.”

Dusk let out a half-laugh half-hum. How weirdly considerate of him, and about Papyrus nonetheless.

Back when Horror learned he and Killer murdered their brothers, he was furious towards them. The only reason he interacted with them was out of self preservation, and even then it was rare.

Maybe being tormented by the same being was the easiest way to bring anyone together.

Or maybe he just realized he wasn't really qualified to judge them after all he's done.

If they wore each other’s shoes they’d find they’d do the exact same thing. It’s funny how being the same person works.

Either way, it's surreal that they're friends now. Though, he kinda thought he’d stop being so friendly once they got away from Nightmare.

“anyway, how are you gonna tell him?” he asked.

He didn't have the answer to that, so he shrugged.

Horror snerked, “dude, seriously?”

“what would you say?” he signed, moving his hands in a stilted manner.

“you really gotta brush up on sign language, i can barely understand you.”

Dusk clenched his hands shut in silent annoyance. He wasn't wrong. His sign language was horrible. He was only going off of what he remembered from past resets, and even then he only took the time to learn it in timelines where they reached the surface. Which were very very distant memories.

“just be upfront. it's not like you two have to live with each other. ‘sides, he’ll be fine on his own.”

Dusk leaned his head forward and gave him a skeptical look.

“probably…” he added without much certainty.

He dreaded the conversation to come. That dread didn't dwindle at all when Killer entered the room and swore at him.

Horror fled the room immediately. Which was fair, but he would've appreciated some support.

He didn't even say anything yet and Killer was already on the verge of crying. His voice cracked as he yelled, usually Dusk found his voice cracks amusing, but now it made his soul twist.

He brought up a point Horror told him. Only for him to panic even more.

LOOK AT HOW MUCH YOU’RE HURTING HIM. IS THIS YOUR REVENGE ON HIM AFTER HE CALLED YOUR RELATIONSHIP A JOKE? WAS HIM CUTTING HIMSELF OVER YOU NOT GOOD ENOUGH?

He didn't want to hurt him. This wasn't revenge. He didn't want to hurt him!

HE KNOWS YOU HATE HIM.

He cared about him!

He loved him!

The words came out of his mouth before he realized it wasn't the best time to say them. It was a horrible time to confess, Killer was already overwhelmed.

That was the first time he said “i love you” to him.

He needed him to know how he felt. He needed him to be sure that they were splitting out of necessity and that he didn't hate him.

“we need to spend some time apart,” he said.

Killer started hyperventilating. God, he was shaking. It looked like he was going to fall over at any moment.

THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO HIM. YOU’VE MANIPULATED HIM. NOW HE CAN’T STAND BEING WITHOUT YOU.

YOU’RE AWFUL.

YOU GAVE HIM THOSE SCARS.

Dusk hugged him, hoping it would calm him down.

Killer immediately clung onto him in return. His hand tightly gripped his jacket, desperate to keep him here.

He tried explaining why they had to be apart.

“dust, please, i’ve already been alone for too long!”

Dusk moved his hands to his shoulders and pushed him away so that he could look at his soul.

It looked the same as it did that night when they decided to quit doing drugs; it was jagged and changing frantically.

He didn't know what it meant exactly, but it didn't mean anything good.

Just like his soul, his face was a mess. He was crying. He thought he was mad at him for calling him “Dust”. He didn't even notice he did.

It hurt to see him like this, but that probably didn't compare to what Killer was going through.

It’d be worse if they stayed together. They wouldn't be able to leave their room. Why would they, when they had each other? No, he didn't want to live like that. It was going to be hard adjusting to a new life and meeting new people but they needed to.

YOU DON’T DESERVE TO.

Things will be better for both of them.

They just had to rip off the bandage first.

That whole conversation was worse than anything Nightmare’s put them through.

No, being overtaken by that parasite was worse, actually.

Either way, it ended up being motivation to go outside once they got back to the Hub. Only for him to b-line towards Grillby’s once he found it.

Once he walked into the place deja vu rushed through him. It looked the exact same as his Grillby’s, the only thing that reminded him that he wasn't in his universe were the patrons.

It was a lot more packed and it wasn't just the usual Snowdin residents that were here. Luckily, because it was so packed, no one paid him any mind when he walked in.

If this was his universe, everyone would greet him.

As he walked towards the bar he noticed that the establishment wasn't the exact same—because it seemed to be double the normal size.

That was the only noticeable difference so far, though.

Grillby himself looked the same, he was also cleaning a glass like he usually did whenever he had some downtime.

Feeling bold, he took a seat at the bar, not many people were sitting around here anyway.

Grillby looked at him, waiting for an order.

And then he realized he didn't have any gold on him. Maybe this Grillby would also put up with a stupidly long tab.

It was weird seeing him again. Fortunately, he's gotten used to seeing different versions of monsters he's killed. Even though they looked the same there was something off. It was like he could tell they were from different universes.

However, this Grillby didn't feel off to him at all.

He didn't need anything fancy to drink so he just ordered a glass of beer.

Grillby gave it to him without a word, which was typical of him.

He tried drinking it slowly at first, trying to seem casual and then he threw that out the window once he realized he didn't really care right now. He wanted to get wasted.

When Blue took them back here, both he and Horror accompanied Killer to his room. Horror practically dragged the skeleton over to his room with how unresponsive he got after their conversation ended.

Then when they said their goodbyes, Killer wordlessly clung onto his sleeve until Dusk pulled away.

Grillby refilled his beer, thank god.

He downed it immediately.

This is only temporary.

Another glass, actually, Grillby brought him two more. He knew he could always rely on him.

They’re not even that far apart from each other. He knows where he lives. He can visit at any time.

Another glass down. The fake Papyrus in his head has gone quiet already.

As his hand grasped the other glass of beer, someone sat down next to him.

“S-SANS?”

Dusk nearly spat out his drink, instead he choked it down, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

“SORRY FOR STARTLING YOU! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE!”

He looked over at the person next to him. Oh god yeah, that was a Papyrus.

Why did this one seem so familiar?

He wasn't even wearing his battle body. He was wearing casual everyday clothes.

He looked a lot more rugged than usual with heavy dark circles under his sockets.

This one had LV.

“it's fine.” Is what he wanted to say. Instead his tipsy mind only managed to say “you real?”

He looked so nervous. “I DON’T SEE WHY I WOULDN’T BE?” He squinted at the glasses on the counter. “HOW MUCH HAVE YOU DRANK ALREADY?”

Dusk looked over to count, but he was distracted by the fact he was currently holding a whole bottle of beer in his hand, apparently. He turned his attention to Grillby, confused.

“...” Grillby looked as blank as ever.

“THAT ISN’T AN EXCUSE TO GIVE HIM SO MUCH ALCOHOL!” Papyrus responded. He pinched the bridge of his nose bone and shook his head in disapproval.

What the hell was happening?

Maybe drinking like crazy wasn't a good idea in a completely new world. Ehhh he didn't really care. Oof, his eye sockets were getting heavy.

A nap sounded real good right now, actually. Consequences be damned, he propped his head against the counter and dozed off.

“HE DIDN’T EVEN ORDER FOOD, DID HE?” Papyrus remarked. He knew this Sans wasn't literally the one from his universe, but the second he saw him he knew he was from a similar one.

Obviously he was from a universe where he didn't die by his hand.

It was shameful, knowing that Papyrus never stooped low enough to harm let alone kill his own brother. He was a horrible brother.

As much as Grillby would insist he did what he had to in order to protect the other residents of Snowdin, he still regretted it deeply.

Seeing a version of his brother that probably succeeded in his task didn't change his mind on that at all.

Speaking of Grillby, “I KNOW YOU RECOGNIZED HIM BUT YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE HIM ALL THIS,” he gestured wildly at the group of empty glasses by the sleeping skeleton, “LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO SEDATE HIM! YOU KNOW HE ISN’T THE SAME ONE.”

Grillby adjusted his glasses even though they were already straight and grabbed one of the cups to start cleaning it.

“I KNOW IT’S WEIRD, THAT DOESN’T CHANGE MY POINT.”

“...”

“I CAN’T JUST WAKE HIM UP THAT’S RUDE.”

“....”

“I’M GOING TO STAY HERE UNTIL HE WAKES UP SO I KNOW HE’S FINE, OBVIOUSLY.”

Grillby paused his glass-cleaning to procure a shot of warm milk for Papyrus.

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR THAT,” he said, before snatching it up and downing it as if it were whiskey.

Grillby gave him a quizzical look.

Papyrus lowered the volume of his voice, which wasn't by much, “Of Course I’m Not Perturbed By Seeing Such A Close Replica Of My Brother That I Brutally Put An End To.”

Grillby got back to cleaning the pile of glasses.

“IT IS JUST A YOU PROBLEM ACTUALLY…SORRY, THAT WAS RUDE. STILL YOUR PROBLEM, THOUGH. THIS SKELETON NEXT TO ME IS A COMPLETE STRANGER, WE’VE NEVER MET HIM,” he said with total confidence that he didn't have.

At the Hub, it was expected to run into other versions of people you knew, but it was basic etiquette to treat them as strangers. You do not assume anything of them because you've never met this version before. Unfortunately, that was harder to uphold when they were from such alike universes.

It wasn't unusual for loved ones from different universes to settle for you if you were similar enough.

Fortunately for Grillby and Papyrus, they didn't really have to deal with that, being the only people from a “Dust” universe to live in the Hub.

But now this Sans is here.

When Dusk finally woke up, the bar was near closing time.

And the Papyrus was still here—oh never mind he bolted out the door the moment he moved.

He sluggishly moved his head towards Grillby, who was probably waiting for him to leave too so he could close.

“sorry,” he slurred. He put a hand on the counter to support himself as got off the stool. He reached into his pockets for gold that wasn't there. Oh yeah.

“my bad, i forgot i didn’t have any g.”

Grillby waved his hand dismissively, or he was shooing him. “...........It's fine.”

Dusk blinked in surprise. “thanks, i’ll uh, bye.” He gave a quick wave before walking quickly out of there, or at least he tried to. He ended up bumping into multiple tables and chairs until he tripped and fell down before he could even make it to the door. He doesn't know how long he napped but clearly he was still drunk.

He stayed on the ground for a moment, internally hyping himself up to stand.

He heard Grillby walk over. Ah, great.

At the very least he managed to flip himself on his back to look up at the fire monster.

For a moment, it felt like he was back in his universe and this Grillby was the one he knew, but he knew he couldn't be. He killed him along with the others.

Although Grillby had an unreadable face—because he didn't have one—Dusk was able to get a good idea about what he was feeling by looking at the pattern of his flames.

Either being drunk skewed his perception or he was reading it wrong, because from what he was seeing, Grillby was concerned for him.

He knew this look well, especially after he started remembering past timelines all of a sudden. Whenever he drank to stop thinking, Grillby would look at him exactly like this and then he'd offer to help him get home. Sometimes he'd try asking what was up. Which was completely in vain.

Usually this was the part he'd kill him.

The two of them stared at each other in silence. They were off script. They didn't know who was going to make the next move.

Until Grillby decided to take the lead. He knelt down by Dusk. His hands reached out to him slowly, ready to draw back if Dusk said anything.

Dusk’s mind unhelpfully insisted Grillby was about to strangle him or something. He stayed still regardless.

Grillby paused and his hands retreated. “...Why are you here?” He stood up.

“had a bad breakup,” he said. It wasn't really a breakup since they were never formally together, but they did separate so that word probably applied to the situation.

Grillby’s head briefly flared up. That could mean a multitude of things so he didn't want to bother assuming what it meant.

“GOOD LORD, HE HASN’T LEFT YET?” Papyrus's voice startled the two as he opened the door. Apparently he hadn't left the vicinity yet. “HONESTLY, OF ALL MONSTERS TO WALTZ IN HERE AND GET BLACKOUT DRUNK…DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANYONE THAT COULD WALK YOU HOME?” He remained outside, only peeking his head in through the door to be heard.

Well Horror probably could, but he had no way of contacting him. He did get that phone. He wasn't sure if he still had it on him and even then he didn't have the number or a phone.

That's a no.

Dusk shook his head even though it was hardly visible to the Papyrus.

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “FINE. AS A RESPONSIBLE CITIZEN I SHALL ACCOMPANY YOU TO YOUR ABODE TO ENSURE YOUR SAFETY.”

“i’ll take my chances sleeping on the sidewalk.”

“YOU CAN’T EVEN GET TO THE SIDEWALK ON YOUR OWN.”

“i guess my chances aren't looking too good. my doom is cemented. maybe even set in stone. just leave me here.”

Papyrus groaned at the puns. “I AM GOING TO GO OVER THERE AND PICK YOU UP AND THEN YOU ARE GOING TO DIRECT ME TO YOUR HOUSE, UNDERSTAND?”

“mmmm no.”

Then he was picked up by warm hands. Oh, Grillby picked him up. He walked him over to the door and was handed over to Papyrus.

The second the two were outside, Grillby hastily closed the door.

“the fuck happened to snowdin?” he asked.

Papyrus huffed, “WE AREN’T IN SNOWDIN.”

He took note of the sky. It was sundown. “we made it to the surface?”

“NO.”

“oh.”

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE YOUR HOUSE IS?”

“shouldn't you know?”

“I’M NOT YOUR BROTHER. YOUR BROTHER IS DEAD. YOU KILLED HIM,” Papyrus said coldly.

Man, his mind was scrambled. For a second he thought there’s been a reset. What timeline was this? No he was kidnapped by Nightmare—and then they were kicked out…Oh yeah. This is the “Hub” or whatever.

He drank way too much.

“i didn't want to…”

“I DIDN’T EITHER! BUT THAT DOESN’T CHANGE IT, NOW DOES IT?!”

He hasn't heard Papyrus get this mad in a while. Wait. “what do you mean you ‘didn't either’?”

Papyrus came to a halt. “IN MY UNIVERSE, I KILLED YOU.”

He may have been drunk out of his mind, but even he knew that didn't sound right. “you wouldn't.”

“WELL, I DID.”

“you can't.”

“CLEARLY I CAN.”

He couldn't even kill the human. How's he supposed to believe he would ever kill him?

“you can't kill the human but you killed me, is that what i’m hearing?”

Papyrus grit his teeth. Despite the conversation, he was still carrying him. “KILLING THEM WASN’T GOING TO STOP THEM. KILLING YOU DID. AND IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

“you never have accidents with your magic.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW ME. YOU AREN’T MY BROTHER! YOU CAN’T JUDGE ME ANYWAY.”

“...you can put me down now.”

“YOU’LL FALL ON YOUR FACE. NO.”

Alas, poor Papyrus. It wouldn't matter how much he reminded himself that he wasn't the same Sans. They were so similar to each other's brother.

And he didn't even remember where his new house was. If this turned out to be a torture method that Nightmare came up with, he wouldn't be surprised.

“so what, you're gonna aimlessly carry me around until you happen to find my house?”

“I GUESS SO!”

Of course.

He resumed walking, Dusk decided to accept it. It was an excuse to be lazy. Even though he hasn’t been “lazy” in years.

Then again, he hasn’t been carried by Papyrus like this in years.

#dust sans #killer sans #horror sans #blue(BSsans)#killer x dust #kist #love affair #utmv fic

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benispunk · 2 days ago

Text

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas

Y/N spends Christmas with Logan and Wade, and Logan's wondering what he really wants to find underneath the Christmas tree.🎄

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, angst & fluff, D&W.

word count: 5K+

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!!! before saying anything about this special chapter, I just wanted to thank you all for all the support on this series!! I love you guys so so much!!! and although this chapter made me giggle and kick my feet in the air, then I got a little carried away and...turns out Christmas isn't the happiest time of the year.....so sorry....enjoy? (don't worry, I will NOT let you down)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment as Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, her steps quiet against the floor. Her pajamas hung loose, her hair a tousled mess from sleep, but she didn’t care— not yet, anyway.

And then, she saw him.

Logan stood by the counter, leaning casually as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, the dark strands curling slightly at the ends. His shirt clung just enough to his frame to hint at the muscles underneath, and for a moment—just a fleeting, traitorous moment—her eyes lingered a little too long.

When he reached for something on the top shelf, the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing a strip of skin and a flash of muscle along his waist. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. What is wrong with me? It was just Logan. Her roommate. Her very grumpy, very private, very…

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm, breaking her train of thought.

Y/N blinked, her cheeks heating. “Morning,” she replied, forcing herself to look away as she reached for a mug.

The cup was warm in her hands, grounding her as she poured herself some coffee. She took a sip, savoring the bitter edge of it. This is fine. Everything is fine.

“So,” Logan started, watching her over the rim of his mug. “What’s your plan for Christmas?”

Y/N hesitated, swirling her coffee. “Nothing, really. My dad and brother are in Europe, and flights to California to see my mom… well, not exactly in the cards right now.” She offered a small shrug, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Logan frowned, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. After a beat, he said, “Wade and I usually celebrate here. Althea, his old roommate, comes over. It’s nothin’ fancy, but it’s good. You should join us.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Logan, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding,” Logan interrupted. “You’re family, Y/N. ‘Course you’re welcome.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Logan. That… means a lot.”

Just then, Wade barreled into the kitchen, already half-dressed for work. “What’s up, my favorite morning people?”

Logan smirked. “Y/N’s joining us for Christmas.”

Wade froze mid-bite of a piece of toast. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Y/N, you and Blind Al are gonna hit it off. She’s got this whole ‘beautiful disaster’ vibe going on, but you’ll love her.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling genuinely touched by their enthusiasm. “Thanks, Wade. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be!” Wade called as he rushed out the door. “Oh, and save me some cookies or I’ll never forgive you!”

The apartment settled into quiet again. Logan finished his coffee, setting the mug in the sink. “What about you? What are you doing today?”

Y/N tilted her head. “I need to run some errands, maybe pick up a few Christmas gifts. You?”

Logan shrugged. “Not much planned.”

She paused for a second, wondering if her next question was a good idea, then she smiled. Why wouldn’t it be? “Wanna come with me?”

Logan would be a liar if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

———

Logan had never liked shopping. Too many people, too much noise, and too many choices. It was the kind of thing he avoided at all costs—until today.

He trailed behind Y/N as she navigated the aisles, her attention flitting from one shelf to the next with a focus that he found oddly endearing. She examined items carefully, turning them over in her hands before either placing them back or tossing them into her cart.

Every now and then, she’d turn to him, asking his opinion. Like now.

“What do you think Wade would like?” she asked, holding up a pair of novelty socks with comic book characters on them.

“Probably those,” Logan said with a smirk. “The more ridiculous, the better.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it tugged at something deep in his chest. She smiled easily, even when he barely gave her much to work with. She always had a way of drawing him out, making him feel… less guarded.

“Noted,” she said, tossing the socks into the cart.

As they continued, Y/N brought up another name. “What about Althea? I want to get her something too.”

“You don’t have to get everyone somethin’,” Logan said gruffly.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted. “Christmas is about giving, right?”

Logan shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly.

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait—you got me somethin’?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Logan,” she interrupted. “It’s Christmas.”

Before he could respond, she turned and headed down the next aisle, her focus already shifting to whatever caught her eye. Logan stayed rooted to the spot, watching her go.

For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the people, the chaos of the store. All he could focus on was her, the way she seemed to light up even the dullest places.

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. He didn’t know what to call it, didn’t want to call it anything, but it was there all the same.

“You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the chatter of the store.

After a moment, he shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he trailed after her.

———

The coffee shop buzzed with a quiet energy, the hum of conversation blending with the clatter of plates and the hiss of the espresso machine. Logan sat across from Y/N, the table between them littered with sandwiches, pastries, and steaming mugs. She was talking, her voice animated as she recounted a story about one of her students.

“...and then he looks me dead in the eye and says, Miss, I’m not late. Time is just a concept.’” Y/N laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

“Smart kid,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Too smart,” she replied with a shake of her head, still smiling.

But then something shifted. The lightness in her expression dimmed, her smile faltering as her gaze fixed on something—or someone—behind him.

Logan’s brow furrowed. He turned slightly in his seat, his eyes landing on a man approaching their table. The guy was average-looking, nothing particularly striking, but there was something about the way he walked—like he knew he belonged in her world, or at least used to.

“Y/N,” the man said, his smile tentative. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Hi, Mark,” Y/N replied, her voice polite but strained.

Logan glanced at her, catching the subtle tension in her posture, the way her fingers gripped the edge of her mug just a little too tightly. So, that was Mark.

The man’s gaze flicked to Logan, his smile faltering slightly. “And… you are?”

“Logan,” Y/N said quickly, before Logan could respond. “My roommate.”

Mark’s eyebrows lifted, and his smile thinned. “Oh. Roommate.”

Logan said nothing, his face impassive, but he could feel the weight of Mark’s scrutiny, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Is that all you are?

Mark turned his attention back to Y/N. “So… how’s everything?” he asked, his tone forced, as though he felt obligated to make small talk.

“Good,” Y/N replied, her voice clipped. “Good. You?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I’ve been going to therapy,” he said, his words tumbling out awkwardly.

“Oh,” Y/N said, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “That’s… good.”

An awkward silence settled over the table, heavy and suffocating. Logan’s jaw tightened as he watched Y/N’s discomfort. He wanted to say something, to cut through the tension, but he knew this wasn’t his moment to step in.

“Well,” Mark said finally, his smile brittle. “It was good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Mark gave a small wave and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N stared down at her coffee, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Yeah,” she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see my ex today. Sorry, that was really weird.”

Logan nodded, his chest tightening inexplicably. “No need to apologize, he was the weird one.”

That made her chuckle and he smiled again. Y/N’s eyes lingered on him, her expression softening. “Have you ever had that happen?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “Can’t say I’ve had many good relationships to begin with.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small shrug accompanying his words. “I mean, nothing real or long-lasting. Guess I’m not exactly easy to be with.”

“I don’t believe that,” Y/N said, softly. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

Logan looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the coffee shop a distant hum. There was something in her gaze, something that made his chest ache and his thoughts scatter.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/N smiled faintly, her attention drifting back to her coffee, but Logan could still feel the weight of the moment lingering between them, unspoken and unresolved.

———

By the time they returned to the apartment, the festive glow of the city lights outside had faded into a softer, quieter hum. Inside, the atmosphere felt almost intimate as they each set about putting away the day’s purchases.

Y/N carried the neatly wrapped gifts she’d picked out for Wade and a few others to her room, her mind still replaying snippets of the day. She placed the bags on her bed, pausing for a moment as her fingers brushed over the ribbon on one of the packages.

Meanwhile, Logan busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking a few groceries he had bought for dinner. His movements were slow and deliberate, but his focus wavered as the sound of Y/N’s light footsteps from the other room reached him.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t quite empty.

When Y/N came back out to the living room, Logan glanced up briefly, his eyes catching hers.

“Got everything sorted?” he asked.

She nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, placing a carton of eggs in the fridge. “All set.”

It was an ordinary exchange, but it lingered, hanging in the air between them like the faint scent of pine from the tiny tree Wade had set up in the corner.

Neither of them said much else as they gathered their things to head out, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was... charged.

———

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filling the space. Wade was on stage, commanding the room with a confidence that seemed almost effortless.

Y/N and Logan sat together near the bar and when Wade finished his set, he bounded over to them, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Well, well,” he said, plopping down in the seat next to Logan. “Look at you two. What’d you lovebirds get up to today?”

Logan tensed, his jaw tightening as he shot Wade a warning glance.

“Ran errands,” he said curtly, taking a sip from his drink.

“Bought gifts,” Y/N added with a smile, her tone light and unbothered.

Wade’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his smirk growing. “Oh, gifts, huh? For each other, maybe?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “For everyone but each other, actually.”

Wade leaned closer to Logan, lowering his voice but making no effort to hide his teasing grin. “You’re gonna spill every detail later,” he said conspiratorially. “Or else.”

Logan sighed, his gaze flickering toward Y/N, who seemed blissfully unaware of Wade’s antics. “You’re relentless,” he muttered.

“And you love me for it,” Wade shot back, raising his glass in mock salute.

For Y/N, the day had been... strange. Comfortable in some ways, yet unsettling in others. Being around Logan had a way of grounding her and throwing her off balance all at once, a mix of feelings she couldn’t quite name.

For Logan, it had been much the same. A day that lingered, heavy with a tension he couldn’t ignore and wasn’t ready to face.

As they left the bar and stepped into the cold night air, neither of them said much, but the weight of the unspoken hung between them, unacknowledged yet undeniable.

———

*Christmas Eve*

The apartment was aglow with the warm light of fairy lights strung across the walls and a small Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. The scent of roasted vegetables and spiced desserts filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of holiday music playing from the speakers.

Y/N stood on a chair near the window, carefully hanging the last of the ornaments, a delicate glass star. She adjusted it until it caught the light just right, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her long red dress shimmered faintly in the glow of the lights, hugging her figure in all the right ways while remaining elegant and festive.

Logan walked in from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped mid-step, his breath catching as his eyes fell on her.

She was radiant.

He couldn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else faded: the chatter from the kitchen, the music, even the sound of Wade's muffled laughter from somewhere down the hall.

For a moment, he forgot where he was.

“Logan?”

Her voice pulled him back, startling him. He blinked, feeling caught, and quickly masked his reaction.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice gruff.

Her brow furrowed slightly, as though she wanted to ask something, but before she could, the front door swung open with a burst of energy.

“We’re here!” Wade’s booming voice broke the moment.

Logan exhaled quietly in relief, stepping aside as Wade entered, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him followed a petite older woman with cropped gray hair and a sharp yet welcoming presence. Her dark glasses hinted at her blindness, but her confident stride suggested it had never slowed her down.

“Y/N, this is Althea,” Wade announced with dramatic flair. “Al, meet the famous new roommate. Be warned—she’s deceptively charming.”

Y/N laughed, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Wade talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Althea’s tone was dry, but the faint curve of her lips showed her amusement. Ignoring Y/N’s hand, she reached out instead, her fingers brushing Y/N’s arm. “Forgive me, I don’t do handshakes. May I...?”

Y/N quickly caught on, her voice warm. “Of course.”

Althea’s hands moved gently to Y/N’s face, tracing her features with practiced care. Y/N held still, feeling a blend of curiosity and vulnerability.

“You’ve got a kind face,” Althea remarked, a smile softening her sharp features. “And I’d bet beautiful too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. She laughed lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Wade, observing the scene from the kitchen, raised a brow. “Look at you, Al, playing all sweet. Y/N, don’t let her fool you. She’s got a mouth that could make a sailor blush.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Althea shot back without missing a beat, her tone deadpan.

Y/N burst into laughter, startled by the abruptness of the retort. The sound of her laugh made Logan glance over from his spot near the counter. His lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something softer.

Wade caught the look and snorted. He leaned in closer to Logan, dropping his voice. “Oh, man, you’re hopeless.”

Logan scowled, draining his drink in one go. “Shut up, Wade.”

Unfazed, Wade grinned. “Hey, just saying— there’s mistletoe. Clock’s ticking.”

Logan’s ears burned red, but he turned away, pretending to busy himself with setting the table.

“Alright, ladies!” Wade called, clapping his hands. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s feast!”

———

The four of them gathered around the small dining table, the dishes carefully arranged in the center. Wade had gone all out, as usual, and the spread was both impressive and slightly chaotic.

Y/N found herself seated next to Logan, their chairs close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed as they passed plates back and forth.

“This looks amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes wide as she surveyed the food.

“Don’t give Wade too much credit,” Logan grumbled. “Half of this was my doing.”

“Hey!” Wade protested, pointing his fork at Logan. “Without me, this meal would’ve been functional but boring. Like you.”

Althea snorted, cutting in with a smirk. “Oh, please, the two of you are basically a mismatched couple from some sitcom. You just need a laugh track.”

The meal carried on, Wade cracking jokes like it was his job (it is) and Logan sighing like he couldn’t care less. Still, there was a rhythm to their back-and-forth, one that made Y/N smile even when Wade was pushing the boundaries.

At one point, Wade casually leaned back and tossed out a comment about how Logan’s “festive cheer” seemed to skyrocket whenever Y/N was around. Logan didn’t hesitate— his foot shot out under the table, hitting Wade’s leg.

Wade yelped, clutching his leg. “Rude! I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll aim higher,” Logan muttered.

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Wade, sensing he was close to crossing a line, dialed it back just enough. The jokes stayed, but the comments about Logan and Y/N turned more playful, less obvious.

By the time the food was gone and the playlist had shifted to quieter, slower songs, the atmosphere felt easy, comfortable. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped over the back of Y/N’s chair. He didn’t think much of it—it just felt like a natural place for it to be.

Y/N leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm every so often. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Wade noticed, of course. He always noticed. But for once, he kept his mouth shut, letting the moment pass without a single jab or smirk.

Logan found himself watching Y/N as she laughed at something Althea said, her whole face lighting up. He didn’t realize he was staring, not really. Everything about the evening felt oddly normal, like this was just how things were meant to be.

———

Y/N and Althea sat side by side on the couch, the room warm and quiet now that dinner had ended. Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, while Wade sprawled in an armchair, pretending to be invested in their conversation. In reality, his focus shifted between the two women and Logan, who seemed utterly captivated by every word Y/N spoke, though he still didn’t seem to realize it.

Wade smirked faintly to himself, but again, said nothing.

“You know,” Althea was saying, “it’s rare to find people who make you feel at home so quickly. You’ve got a good heart, Y/N. I can see why these two keep you around.”

Y/N laughed. “Well, thank you, though I’m still figuring out how to deal with them sometimes.” She glanced playfully toward Logan and Wade.

“Hey!” Wade interjected, feigning offense. “We’re delightful.”

“That’s debatable,” Althea quipped.

They all laughed, and Y/N reached for a small bag she had tucked away under the coffee table. “Speaking of feeling at home, I actually got you a little something. Just a small gift.”

Althea’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For me?”

Y/N handed her the bag, and inside was a plush, incredibly soft sweater in a deep burgundy color.

“For winter,” Y/N explained, smiling. “I thought it might be cozy for the colder days.”

Althea ran her hands over the fabric, her expression softening. “Alright, you’re officially my favorite now.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “What about us?”

Logan smirked into his glass, shaking his head.

“You two?” Althea said, turning her face toward the men with mock exasperation. “I don’t even know how Y/N puts up with you.”

The group laughed, the easy warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a blanket.

Once the laughter subsided, Wade and Logan presented their shared gift to Althea— a huge weighted blanket in a beautiful forest green color.

“For when you’re not here to roast us,” Wade said with a wink.

Althea ran her hands over the blanket, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Alright, fine, maybe you two aren’t so bad. Thank you.”

———

When it was time for Althea to leave, Wade grabbed his coat and keys, patting Althea’s shoulder as they headed for the door. “I’ll drive her back. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he teased, looking between Logan and Y/N.

“We’ll try to behave,” Y/N replied with a grin, earning a chuckle from Wade and a low, amused hum from Logan.

As the door closed behind them, the apartment was blanketed in a peaceful quiet. The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast warm patterns on the walls, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air.

Logan moved to the table, stacking plates. “We should probably clean this up,” he said, glancing over at Y/N.

“Good idea,” she agreed, grabbing a tray of glasses. They worked side by side in silence, their movements synchronized without effort.

“You didn’t have to get Althea anything,” Logan said after a moment, his voice low. “She’s not really the sentimental type.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “It wasn’t about that. She’s important to you and Wade, and I wanted to show I appreciate her too.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “She seemed to like you.”

“She’s easy to like,” Y/N replied with a smile, turning back to the sink. “I think she keeps you grounded.”

Logan let out a small huff of amusement. “Yeah, she does. She’s one of the few people who knows how to call me out without pissing me off.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his as she handed him a glass to dry. “That’s a skill worth respecting.”

The quiet between them was comfortable, almost tangible, but it was broken when Logan cleared his throat. “Speaking of gifts…”

Y/N turned, curious. Logan reached behind a stack of plates and pulled out a small box, wrapped neatly in dark green paper. “I, uh… I got you something.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Logan, you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his tone gruff but soft.

Taking the box, Y/N unwrapped it carefully, revealing a delicate necklace with a shimmering emerald pendant. The stone caught the light beautifully, its hues shifting like the ocean.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s stunning.”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it might suit you.”

Her fingers brushed over the pendant, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. But then, realization dawned, and her eyes widened. “Wait… is this an emerald? Logan, this is way too much!”

“It’s a gift,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

She looked at him, torn between awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe you—”

“Let me help,” he murmured, taking the necklace from her hands.

Y/N turned around, holding her breath as he fastened it around her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. When she turned back to face him, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Logan’s gaze lingered, his expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words eluded him. Instead, he gave a small nod, stepping back just enough to give her space.

“I should get your gift,” Y/N said, breaking the spell as she hurried to her room.

She returned with a neatly wrapped package. Logan opened it carefully, revealing a sleek black leather jacket. His brows lifted, his fingers brushing over the material.

“You mentioned your old one was wearing out,” Y/N said quickly. “And I thought—”

“It’s perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice steady but warm.

She relaxed, her smile widening as she watched him try it on. It fit perfectly, the jacket molding to his broad frame like it had been made for him.

Relief washed over her, and she returned his smile. “I’m glad.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked at the jacket again. "So, let me get this straight... you can get me a jacket as fancy as this, but I can’t even get you a beautiful necklace for Christmas?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Y/N smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s Christmas, Logan. Don’t overthink it," she replied, brushing him off with a quick wave of her hand.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, right, of course. Christmas," he muttered, half to himself. He glanced at the jacket again, his fingers brushing the smooth material. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he said quietly.

“You’re worth it,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. The weight of her words hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

The moment stretched between them, the only sound being the Christmas playlist in the background, playing on low volume. Logan’s hand brushed hers as he set the jacket down, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

Before either of them could say more, the front door swung open.

“I’m back!” Wade announced as he burst through the door. “I hope you two didn’t burn the place down without me.”

Y/N and Logan stepped apart almost instinctively, their brief closeness retreating into the unspoken space between them.

“Place is still standing,” Logan said, his tone calm as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Wade gave him a pointed look, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they flicked over to the small box on the table. He didn’t comment immediately, though a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Hate to think I’d miss out on the drama. So,” he added, as casually as Wade could manage, “what’ve you two been up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” Y/N said with a warm smile, the necklace still hanging delicately around her neck.

Wade’s eyes landed on the necklace, his smirk widening briefly before he shook it off and clapped his hands together. “Right, cleaning. Sure. Well, hope you saved me some holiday cheer. Now, let’s finish this properly and…give me my gifts.”

As Y/N moved toward the living room to join him by the tree, Wade paused briefly near Logan. He leaned in, speaking just low enough to avoid Y/N overhearing.

“Nice gift, Peanut,” he murmured, a sly grin on his face. “Now, try to take the next step.”

Logan shot him a warning glare but said nothing, shaking his head as Wade walked off with a chuckle.

By the tree, Y/N had already settled herself cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the pendant. Logan hesitated, standing back for a moment as Wade grabbed a gift and rattled it loudly.

“Come on, Grinch, get over here,” Wade said, louder this time.

Logan sighed and made his way over, sitting a bit stiffly on the couch behind Y/N. His gaze lingered on her as she leaned toward the tree, her movements soft and unassuming. She turned slightly, catching his eye with a brief smile that made something stir in his chest.

As the night carried on, the living room buzzed softly with warmth, the twinkle of Christmas lights casting a gentle glow. Wade lounged near the tree, holding court with one of his exaggerated stories about a gift exchange gone horribly wrong. Y/N laughed, her face lighting up as she added her own tale— a hilarious recount of a miscommunication during her first Secret Santa at work.

Logan sat on the couch, watching them. He leaned back, silent, his gaze flickering between Wade’s theatrical gestures and the way Y/N’s smile reached her eyes. The sound of her laugh stirred something warm and sharp in him, though he kept his face impassive.

The way she wore that necklace—his gift to her—like it had always belonged there. And maybe it did. But that didn’t mean he did.

The leather jacket sat on the coffee table. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t just the thoughtfulness— it was the way it seemed to fit him so perfectly, like she had known something about him that even he didn’t.

“You’re quiet, Peanut,” Wade teased, nudging him with his foot. “Plotting your next great escape?”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Just listening.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Alright, Logan,” she said, leaning slightly toward him, “what’s the worst gift you’ve ever received?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, the question cut through the haze of his thoughts, and he scrambled to push the weight of his emotions aside.

“Worst gift?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N prompted, tilting her head with that easy, genuine interest she always carried.

“Probably a pair of socks with reindeer on them,” Logan said with a wry smirk. “Ugliest thing I ever saw.”

Wade snorted. “Bet you still wore them, though.”

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching. “They were warm.”

“I know I love mine.” Wade said as he put his feet in the air, showing off the socks Y/N had got him.

The conversation flowed on, but Logan felt himself retreating into his thoughts again.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the pendant around her neck, and Logan’s heart stuttered in his chest. She wore his gift like it was a part of her, and somehow that made the ache in his chest sharper.

The truth clawed at him, relentless. He wanted something to happen— something more than these stolen moments of warmth. But he couldn’t let himself have it. Not with her.

Not someone like her.

Someone so kind, so brilliant, so effortlessly beautiful. Someone who deserved all the light and laughter she brought into the world. Someone who didn’t deserve the shadow of his past— the darkness he never spoke about, the weight of nightmares that dragged him down night after night.

The necklace had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. When he’d chosen it, he hadn’t thought about what it meant, only that it was perfect for her.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he knew what it meant.

But the moment he held it in his hands, the contrast had been too evident. It felt almost cruel to give her something so precious, as if he were trying to convince her he was something he wasn’t.

Wade’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging his focus back to the room. Logan could feel his friend’s eyes on him. Wade always saw too much.

And Wade knew. Of course, he did. The way Logan’s gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his words faltered whenever Y/N was near. Wade saw it all, he knew it wasn’t just a simple little crush. It was probably the reason why he wouldn’t stop commenting on it.

But Logan didn’t need any of it. He didn’t need Wade pointing out how far he’d already fallen.

His heart ached with the weight of it. The selfishness of wanting to reach out, to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of more. But it was her. And he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Wade’s eyes briefly. He saw the smirk, the unspoken challenge, and ignored it.

He’d make it through this. He’d hide what he felt. He had to.

Because Y/N deserved better than him.

Logan leaned back on the couch, his face as still as stone as he forced his thoughts into submission.

“Alright,” Wade said, clapping his hands. “Time for another story— this one’s a real masterpiece.”

Logan let out a low hum, feigning interest as Wade began, but his focus was elsewhere.

Y/N’s laugh rang out again, soft and clear, and Logan clenched his jaw against the warmth it stirred.

He’d pretend. He’d hide.

And maybe, if he was lucky, it would be enough.

XXX

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ropebunnykant · 3 days ago

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i've said it before, but i truly feel like a lot of the hate towards kant really comes from a place of people not understanding him and why he's handling everything the way he is. like i feel like at this point, more people understand his motivations and the fact that he's doing all of this to be able to raise babe, but i feel like the disconnect is now coming from the way he's handling it all.

and like, i understand that everyone has different interpretations, but one thing i have never been able to understand and get behind is the idea that kant, at any point, didn't feel anything for bison. we see before kant gets blackmailed by christ, before he is told that bison is an assassin and he needs to get close, that kant clearly felt something real on his and bison's first night together. you can make the argument about it just being because they had really good sex, and i'm not saying that wasn't part of it, but the thing is that when kant is laying there, daydreaming about bison with that silly smile on his face, he's not thinking about just the sex. yes, we get a shot of that too in his little daydream, but we also just get bison at the bowling alley. and kant tells style that bison didn't stick around as if he's disappointed, and again, sure, you can make the argument that he just wanted to make a fuck buddy out of bison or something like that, but style is teasing him about it in the same way a friend teases you about a crush - and style knows kant and his fuck boy ways better than anyone, so it's obvious this isn't just the way kant acts when he has good sex with someone.

but then captain christ calls. and kant is given this job that he has to do. this isn't an option, he doesn't have a choice here. it's do this job for captain or he brings back his car theft charges and he looses custody of babe. you can argue about his tactic in getting close, sure, but the truth is i don't think kant trying to be bison's friend would have even worked, nor would it have likely made much sense because they had already slept together.

and again, i've said it before, but a lot of the reason that kant was able to be convincing with everything in the beginning is because while sure, he was definitely playing things up, he also did always have a real interest in bison. kant isn't a good liar. we've been shown this time and time again, not just with bison, but with fadel and even with style. if kant hadn't had any interest in bison to begin with, he wouldn't have been able to fake it so easily. there's just no way to me that he didn't have some amount of interest from the beginning.

his interest has always been real. the problem has always come in with the fact that kant knows it can't be.

and i think in the beginning, it was easy for him to justify it, to brush it off. to tell himself "it was just good sex" or "it's just a crush" because as much as it may be real, kant needs to to be a lie. he needs to be faking it, be lying through his teeth, because none of this is real! he can't approach bison in a way he otherwise may, he has to be over the top. he can't win bison's heart naturally, he has to wiggle his way in, he has to lie and cheat and manipulate, he has to pay off his friends to help him and drug him to get information. it can't be real because even if it is, he has to do these things anyways. even if it's real, he won't get to keep him in the end. it's either bison gets locked up or kant does, and if he's the one in the cell, then there's no one to take care of babe.

so of course kant pushes away and ignores every bit of feelings he has until he can't anymore. of course he ignores the way he redraws bison's cat tattoo for him when he doesn't have to. he ignores the fact that maybe he does actually like it when bison hits him, that maybe they are the perfect match. he ignores the little kiss he gives bison despite him being totally out of it. he ignores the note he has in his phone of all the things bison likes, the things he dislikes.

until he's sat in bison's room and he sees pictures of the northern lights and thinks "he has dreams, just like babe does."

until bison calls him his boyfriend and he giggles like a teenager with a crush.

until he's in the shower and can't stop thinking about bison giving him his heart and the way he doesn't deserve it.

until style calls him on it, tells him what he already knows but can't be true, that bison has him wrapped around his finger.

until bison is telling him he loves every story on his body. until bison is kissing his way up his skin like he's something beautiful and precious but he's not. because bison says he loves the parts of him he thinks are ugly. but would he still if he knew? would he still look at kant with all that love, all that vulnerability, if he knew it was built on a false start? would he still find those parts beautiful, too?

of course kant doesn't think so. of course he has no reason to believe bison would forgive him. how can he expect that when he can't even forgive himself?

so it's better, isn't it, to just get it all over with? to do what he needs to and try to live with himself once it's all over? to let himself love bison for just one night because he'll lose him either way after that, won't he?

that's what it is, for kant. he can't keep bison. no matter how much he wants to. no matter how real any of it is.

#of course kant has an 'i gotta do what i gotta do' attitude. he doesn't have any other options #and he hates that more than anyone else #this got away from me but like. of course he ignored it. of course he didn't want to feel any of it #of course he's trying to get it over with #god it kills me fr #the heart killers #kant pattanawat #my analysis #mine

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alexvolleyball · 10 hours ago

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🧸ྀི A man! 🧸ྀི

What lads men doing for you?

characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.

a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open!!!

It's New Year's Eve in four days. I would love for you to decorate my Christmas tree!

warnings: Mentioning clubs, drunk people, clingy men, kids, not highly toxic jokes.

Sylus:

• He won’t let you feel uncomfortable.

• Is the club music too loud? Sylus will throw out the DJ to lower the volume.

• Is the company unpleasant? He will wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you away.

• Is some guy staring at you strangely? Sylus will take care of him without hesitation.

• Today was another visit to the club. You didn’t give Sylus a heads-up, and now you regret it. You’ve had too much to drink and are struggling to walk. It feels like you might break your ankles in these heels. Leaning against the wall of a tall building, you touched your hot face with an equally warm hand. Your eyes struggled to make sense of the figures around you.

• “Hey, gorgeous! Need some help?” a strange male voice called out. The stranger stood too close, his hands already reaching for your shoulders when suddenly, black and red threads wrapped around him and lifted him away.

• “Keep your filthy hands to yourself.” Oh, that voice—you could recognize it anywhere. Your man arrived just in time, as always. You heard the man's screams, the crack of bones, and Sylus’s heavy footsteps. “Here I am saving you again, kitten.”

• “Sylus?” You swayed and fell right into his arms. “I missed you so much!” To be honest, Sylus likes it when you’re drunk because you become quite clingy. “These stupid heels hurt! Can I take them off?”

• He supported you with one hand while the other removed his shoes. Then he crouched down and placed you on his knee. Sylus began to take off your heels and slipped on his shoes instead. “Is this better?” he asked, gently standing while holding your heels.

• “Oh! So comfortable!” You clapped your hands joyfully, and in response, he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

Xavier:

• He always walks ahead of you, shielding you with his broad back.

• As one of the top Hunters, Xavier takes on the most perilous missions. When you join him on assignments, he turns into a protective hen. “Hold on. I’ll check it out.” Or “Shh, there’s someone over there. I’ll handle it; you stay put.” Or “Don’t interfere; I’ve got this.” At first, it stung, making you feel like a burden. But that couldn’t be further from the truth! Xavier just wants to keep you safe and sound.

• His worry for you even led him to argue with his superiors. When they refused to make any changes (Xavier believes you should get easier tasks), he got angrier than ever before.

• It seems that Hunter has everything under wraps, but when it comes to his beloved, he just can’t keep his emotions at bay.

• He protects you even during casual strolls. Xavier is always alert, ready to take on any threat just so you’re okay.

• When unfamiliar guys approach, he draws you in closer and shoots them a cold glare. With that displeased look, he wards off anyone who dares to come near. “Wow, you’ve really got a jealous streak!” you chuckle, watching him shoo away yet another suitor.

• “Jealous?”

• “Well, it’s when you think that someone you care about might go off with someone else. You’re deeply attached, and you feel a pang when someone tries to steal your partner. Something like that.” You smile awkwardly, realizing how silly it sounds.

• “Yeah, probably.” Xavier’s words hit home. “I’d protect you from anyone in this world.” He gently brushed your cheek and pulled you closer. “Especially from men who have their eyes on my treasure.” His soft lips brushed against yours. Through that tender kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t say aloud.

Zayne:

• This doctor won’t let you lift anything heavy.

• Heading to the store? He’ll tag along to haul all those bulky bags for you.

• Want to move the couch to make the room look nicer? Better step aside. Zayne will handle it all.

• Right now, you’re secretly trying to drag heavy boxes filled with useless junk up to the attic without your husband knowing. But you miscalculated the distance from the wall and crashed into it, sending the boxes tumbling. The racket alerted your husband, and he surveyed the scene with a disapproving look. “Why didn’t you call for me?” First, he helped you up, then you both gathered everything that tumbled out of the boxes back inside. After a heavy sigh, he stacked the boxes and lifted them effortlessly. Once everything was stowed away in the attic, Zayne came back down to you. “So, why didn’t you tell me?”

• “You were busy working, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

• “And that’s why you thought it was a good idea to do this on your own? Y/N, you’re my woman. You shouldn’t be doing all the heavy lifting when I’m around.” He pulled you into his chilly embrace, but the warmth of your body soon turned it cozy. “You could’ve hurt your back or worse.” Zayne pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

• “Sorry for worrying you.”

• “It's all good,” he sighed. “But don’t let it happen again. The mother of my future children needs to stay healthy.” He smiled and ruffled your hair.

• “Mother of your future children?”

• “You thought you could get away from me? Not a chance. I want to build a family with you. I want kids, and only with you.” Zayne's words made you blush. Despite his serious nature, he loves to playfully tease you just to see the flustered look on your face.

Rafayel:

• He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair like a true gentleman.

• This man is far too glamorous and sophisticated for this world.

• Today, like usual, he decided to take you to the most upscale restaurant. You’ve realized time and again that in his suit, Rafayel is just too hot to handle.

• He loves it when your outfits match; it shows everyone around that you’re a genuine, loving couple.

• As he opened the car door, he waved his hand gallantly, inviting you to hop in. You laughed, lifted the hem of your dress, and slipped into the car.

• Once you arrived, the artist was the first out, opening your door and helping you out. Wrapping your arm around his, you beamed and rested your head on his shoulder. “Today, you’re glowing with happiness—it’s nauseating,” your husband joked, pretending to feel ill.

• “Oh, you rascal! I’m just…” you turned away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m just happy to have you with me.”

• “Ah, that’s it!” He said, holding the door open and ushering you inside. “How adorably sweet!” The artist chuckled, and as you made your way to the table, he pulled out your chair, sat you down, and scooted you in. “In that case, order whatever your heart desires, babe! Let’s blow this card’s limit!” He slapped the table, placing his credit card beside your hand.

• “Wow, what a surprise!” You feigned amazement. As you browsed the menu, you sneaked glances at your man. Rafayel met your gaze. “Why are you staring so hard?”

• “I love you.”

• “What?”

• “I said, ‘hurry up and order.’ I’m starving over here.” You noticed his ears turning red, and with a giggle, you intertwined your fingers with his. Rafayel looked at your hands, half-lidded eyes taking in the moment. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles and gently raised your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I want to spend my life taking you to fancy restaurants.”

© 2024 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @alexvolleyball

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gldnstrngs · 3 days ago

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thoughts post merlin season finale rewatch for the anniversary:

(let me preface that ive never cried to the finale despite me watching it twice and rewatching arthurs death scene several times— i definitely got emotional but never cried)

1.) …so i cried… from the beginning of the episode… i just hated how gwen never got a proper goodbye from arthur and was aiding all of his men, wondering where he was and if he was okay😭 and then later on, when leon tells her that arthurs missing and she turns around and silently cries, but quickly recovers… that was SO heartbreaking. she just keeps going and cries to herself like she deserved so so so much better and i hate that she never got closure

2.) i know that merlin has really truly become emrys but im not sure if it was necessary for dragoon to be his Final Form. i didnt watch the first part so maybe i missed the importance of that, but i feel like the scene would’ve been so much better if merlin looked like himself and casted all those badass spells and everyone would see him

3.) WHEN ARTHUR WAKES UP TO MERLIN AND THE FIRST THING HE SAYS IS “merlin, where have you been?” IM NOT OKAY??? it wasnt “merlin, what are you doing here?” or “merlin, how did you get here?” it was merlin, where have you been? that whole time arthur was in battle all😭he😭wanted😭was😭merlin😭

and then the magic reveal. the goddamn magic reveal. that entire scene is so heartbreaking. tell me why i was so distraught when ive seen that scene more times than i can count. and he doesnt just say “i have magic, i used it to protect you” NO. he says i use it for you, only for you. THAT IS A CONFESSION. it’s such a subtle shift of words but it says SO MUCH.

arthur immediately being in denial kills me. it was never a thought in his head that merlin would actually have magic because he associated it with evilness and cruelty. but then he finds out that merlin has always had magic and the way his eyes become so sad… the way his finger brushed his merlins chin right before realizing the truth… im so…

4.) i couldnt stop crying when the scene cut to gwen in the castle, staring out the window and feeling that arthur is alive. her eyes are so sad. i just can’t get over the fact that she never had the goodbye she deserved

5.) as much as i hate the way arthur reacted to merlin having magic, i do understand. he was literally just in battle, was mortally wounded, and found out that the only person he thought he could trust had been lying to him from the moment they met. i dont believe arthur actually thought merlin was dangerous— he’s prone being angry before being sad as a defense mechanism and that was only fueled by finding out that gaius was also lying to him. at that point, it must’ve felt like every person he’d ever known and trusted only ever lied to him. its so tragic I CANT.

BUT ALSO on the other side of that i actually cannot handle how utterly heartbroken merlin looks. his red rimmed eyes because he was crying all night😭 thinking that arthur would hate him forever…

5.) this entire scene bro…

“why did you never tell me?”

“…i wanted to, but…”

“…what?”

“you would’ve chopped my head off.”

“…not sure what i would’ve done.”

“and i didn’t want to put you in that position.”

“…that’s what worried you?”

“some men are born to… plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others… to be great kings. me… i was born to serve you, arthur. and i’m proud of that. and i wouldn’t change a thing.”

UMMMM SO I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS. i have rewatched this scene so. many. times. it is genuinely one of the most beautiful scenes ever written in cinema call me dramatic but im just speaking facts

arthur’s face when he realized that merlin really did care for him. the way he instantly lights up, despite being in pain. and his eyes… theyre glued to merlin. the whole time, he couldn’t look at him directly, but now he was. he was just scanning his face, memorizing all of merlin’s features AND MERLIN IS JUST STARING AT ARTHURS LIPS

also. ALSO. how have i seen this so many times and never. NEVER. caught onto the fact that gwen and arthur’s theme (which is originally titled the love theme) WAS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. there was no mention of gwen at all in that scene. that was all merlin and arthur. this just confirms to me that this is the moment arthur fully realized and accepted that he was in love with merlin

6.) gwen deserved to know that merlin was a sorcerer FROM MERLIN. they were best friends. THEY WERE BEST FRIENDS!!! HE SHOULDVE BEEN THE ONE TO TELL HER!!! they deserved a scene where merlin comes back from avalon and he and gwen hug and cry.

7.) gwaine and percival should NOT have gone after morgana. i understand their rage but there was no way they were going to defeat her unless they had excalibur or something…

and gwaines death was so unnecessary. that was clearly for shock factor and i hated it. but i did get emotional when percy was able to free himself because he heard gwaine was being tortured… and then hes there when gwaine dies… their foreheads touching… (im not ok)

8.) it breaks my heart that morgana felt no guilt or remorse when she saw arthur, wounded and on the verge of dying. you can so clearly see that arthur feels that way when he sees morgana die, but there’s nothing on her end. i know it’s meant to show how far gone she is but it genuinely doesn’t feel right. i really do think she would’ve experienced some sort of internal conflict when seeing her own brother dying… like maybe she realized that none of this was worth it. it didnt feel as good as she thought it would

and when she’s stabbed by merlin😭 and he says he blames himself for what she’s become. people don’t recognize it enough how merlin feels so much guilt for the way he treated morgana. i just know he didn’t want to kill her, but he had no choice and he knew it was his fault…

9.) is there a reason why merlin didnt call for kilgharrah. i know kilgharrah said in the previous episode that he would finally be lying to rest for eternity, but i feel like this was an especially dire situation where he was needed😭 AND MERLIN SUMMONS HIM LATER ON!!!

or what about aithusa??? LIKE THEY DID NOT HAVE TO BE ON HORSES THE WHOLE TIME

(if anyone can explain the reasoning then lmk otherwise it was just a plot hole and that pisses me off bruh)

10.) arthur’s death did not need to happen, yet it was one of the best death scenes i’ve ever scene. it was just so raw and painful. “just… just hold me…” WHAT IF I DIE??!?!,,!!, he thanks merlin, he pats his head, he brushes his cheek, he tries to hold his hand like im fjwjdjsjjswhshshsj

also originally i was not fully convinced by the theory that the breath arthur took before saying “thank you” was “i love you.” i didnt want to be delusional but i actually do think he did say that he loves merlin. AND THAT CAN BE INTERPRETED AS ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC!!! i def see it as romantic but yes… im so Normal…

11.) “i’ve failed?” just. don’t talk to me.

12.) when merlin stands by the boat arthur is laid to rest in, trying to hold back his tears only to sob as he touches his forehead. the way he tries to gather himself. the way he struggles to say arthurs name and cast the spell. the way he watches arthur drift off, shaking. just. pls.

13.) gwen my baby girl. i cannot emphasize this enough. you deserved so much better. my heart broke when she played with arthurs royal seal and then when i saw the empty throne beside her. she had no time to prepare for this. she just lost the love of her life.

14.) it cuts to leon and then percival. and then i realize theyre the only two left in the round table. they both look so distraught. they lost everyone they ever loved.

15.) gaius :( he was waiting for merlin with his favorite meal :(

16.) bro the truck always jumpscares me omfg why is it so loud😭😭😭 then i get sad because merlin is old and walking alone and its the present and he’s still waiting for arthur :(

they should’ve had the show end with arthur saying “merlin” instead of kilgharrah saying it. that’s literally all we needed. it would’ve been so perfect but here we are…

final thoughts:

i love that this episode wasnt just the battle and action. the focus of it was merlin and arthur, navigating their feelings from the magic reveal and arthurs mortal wound. its so painful and heartbreaking but that just symbolizes the love they have for each other. this entire episode was filled with their gentle moments, softly speaking and touching each other. then arthur dies in merlin’s arms but i dont think he’d want to be anywhere else

also!!! colin and bradley’s acting in this episode… it was absolutely PHENOMENAL. they are already such great actors, but they really nailed it in the series finale. i can’t get over how they speak with their eyes the whole time. you can the love, fear, and acceptance they experienced throughout the whole episode. it was just so beautiful and i think that was what rlly made this ep

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theotherrookie · 22 hours ago

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"It's the struggle of being a work in progress." Rook replied with a slight shrug, "At least wearing shades lets me hide the bags under my eyes. You make sure to take care in the meantime. Both of you. I mean it."

"Don't worry, dear. I'll be around to enforce that." Veronica reassured.

"Sounds good!" Erica grinned, once again a bit too widely for comfort, at Travis' approval. "Thanks! It's a trick I learned while fighting a guy with robo tentacles on his back!"

And before that, while hunting for survivors. That one might have been a bit too morning to bring up, though.

"Let's put it this way. You let me have this and I promise I will not set foot on a stage." Lucien said, before heading off to go serve the soup. He nodded at Russell to quietly thank him for getting some bowls ready while he grabbed the ladle.

Erica's ears perked up and immediately reached to poke one of Antonio's ears, before she proceeded to gently scratch them.

Willow was going to be so jealous.

Veronica waited patiently, figuring it would be pointless to point out to Bill that he could have just offered instructions and rest. "Thank you. Come on, Chick."

"Yeah, yeah..." Rook moved to sit as she was handled the bottle. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Really? The solution is stronger Spitfire."

"Fire purifies. Now, drink."

"It better taste the same." It did, which made Rook more willing to try this strange cure. She took a couple more sips, unsure of what to expect while a bit of smoke escaped from the corner of her mouth.

Then it hit and Rook all but threw herself at the bucket just in time before she threw up. Veronica hovered closer to gently pull her hair back while she gasped for air and stared down at the vile black liquid that unfortunately still infested her body even after all this. Unfortunately, they would have to repeat the treatment a few times.

Rook stared at it for a moment, before she fell back, somehow looking even paler than before. "Help..."

"I'm glad you guys are looking after each other." Rook said, nodding slightly, "And I hope your eyes get better soon, Leofric. I kinda know what it's like to be stuck looking at blurry shapes and it sucks."

At least she was too drained to be bothered by the light at the moment.

"It sounds like you two could be the secret weapon against that guy, then!" Erica replied, "As long as he can't put you to sleep, that is. His weird sword also needs a lot of space to be used. Maybe next time you should make sure to fight him in an enclosed space."

Erica stood up and waited for the shadows to disappear, before making her way over. The soup smelled amazing and she had decided she was going to have some before Lucien even offered.

Though she'd get that in a minute. There was still another matter waiting to be settled. She moved to stand by Antonio's side, looking up expectantly.

Lucien smirked, "While I recognize your talent and experience in the field, I have been in the anti hero business for longer. Therefore, I will allow you to be my sidekick for now."

"Yay, cat practice!" Erica cheered.

Lucien chuckled as he stepped back in the kitchen, "Thank you, Russell. Let's get to it."

Veronica watched for a moment, before she pulled out what very much looked like a bottle of rum. "Edmund was busy cursing the French, but he let me have a bottle of this. Between this and the angel's tears, should be strong enough to purge the toxins."

Rook's eyes widened when the ghost lady uncorked the bottle and smoke started pouring out of it. "De, mamma. I don't want to burn Bill's house down."

"I doubt that'll happen, but you might need a bucket."

#blooddrinkingbartender #scholar of flames - Rook #elf in training - Erica #hunter hunter - Lucien #ardens medica - Veronica #vomit tw

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what-have-i-unleashed · 2 days ago

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three cheers for your ego

hello mtt nation, i am here with my promised angsty christmas fic, as part of my defeat of my evil twin in the twinter war (i am the better twin now obviously). enjoy, and happy holidays >:3

When Sans comes back home from a tiring scouting mission, he immediately notices something is off. The food rations he’s so sure were left near the kitchen entryway are gone. That meager bits of fresh meat he’s scraped together for Gyftmas just simply… disappeared.

“what happened to the food?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

His younger brother, seated on the sofa in the living room, flinches but doesn’t look away from his intense blood red gaze. His hands twist nervously in his lap. “I… I GAVE IT TO THE BUNNIES.”

“you what?” Sans says, voice deceptively quiet. His whole body goes rigid and his fists clenches, threatening to break off the door handle he’s gripping.

“THEY NEED IT MORE THAN WE DID – THAN I DID,” Papyrus replies, his voice carefully laced with a tone of defiance that is not very helpful right now. “AND… IT’S GYFTMAS.”

Sans thunders across the room as he stands before papyrus, his teeth clenched so hard he can hear them grinding in his skull. “what does that even mean?! who the hell cares if it’s gyftmas?! that was all we had! do you understand what you’ve done?!”

Papyrus shoots up on his feet, his frame towering over Sans’ short stature. Sans unconsciously takes a step back, momentarily surprised by his brother’s reaction.

“I UNDERSTAND PERFECTLY,” Papyrus says, his voice low and steady. “THEY HAVE KIDS, SANS. LITTLE ONES. AND THEY ARE HUNGRY AND COLD. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO NOTHING? TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM?”

“yes!” Sans snaps. “exactly that! if we starve, who’s gonna save us? who’s gonna keep you alive?!”

Papyrus’ face twists in discomfort, but he stands his ground. “I DO THINK ABOUT IT, BROTHER,” he says, his voice soft. “IT’S UNCOMFORTABLE TO THINK ABOUT. BUT, WHAT’S THE POINT OF SURVIVING IF WE’RE JUST… CANNIBALIZING EACH OTHER IN THE PROCESS, LIKE WHAT’S HAPPENING IN OTHER PLACES? IN SNOWDIN, WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A COMMUNITY, SANS.”

“oh, spare me the sentimental piece,” Sans growls. “do you know how hard it is to get food around here? and you just threw it away to some family who wouldn’t lift a finger to help us if the tables were turned!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” Papyrus shoots back, his voice slightly trembling. “KINDNESS STILL EXISTS! NOT EVERYONE IS LIKE YOU!”

The words hang in the air like a shotgun. Papyrus looks shocked at what came out of his mouth, but he doesn’t look sorry. Sans stares back at him, mouth open like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. Without a word, he turns on his heel and storms towards the door, anger rolling from him in waves.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Papyrus demands, rushing to block Sans’ path. Sans glares at him, irritated.

“where do you think?” he hisses, his eye narrowing dangerously. “i’m taking our food back.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO ROB THEM?!” Papyrus gasps, disbelief making way to horror. “THEY HAVE KIDS, SANS!! AND THEY HAVE NOTHING TO EAT!!”

“well, too bad then,” Sans spits. “no one steals from me. and the bunnies will learn real quick what happens when someone does. they’re gonna have a mad time.” A feral grin spreads across his face.

Papyrus stands in front of the door, defiant. “NO.”

“out of my way, paps.”

“NO! I WON’T LET YOU!”

“you think you can stop me? i can easily shortcut pass you.”

“I KNOW! BUT IT’S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING, AS YOUR BROTHER! IF YOU CROSS ME, I’LL WHACK YOU TIL YOU SEE SOME SENSE IN THAT CRACKED HEAD OF YOURS!!” Papyrus crosses his arms, disapproving.

“you think you’re so much better than me? you think you can survive on morals alone?”

“NO,” Papyrus replies, his voice soft. “I JUST WANT TO BE BETTER THAN THIS.”

After an eternity, Sans drops his coat and lies on the sofa, the tension in the room lessening but still palpable.

“well, merry fucking gyftmas then,” he mutters. “i hope you’re happy with this.”

The frozen streets are silent, blanketed with layers of dust and snow. The streetlights flicker weakly as Sans makes his way towards the party venue and his favorite spot in Snowdin – Grillby’s. The place is quiet and empty, but bears a feast of dusty wine bottles, cold cinnabuns, and some canned goods. Sans hums a strange, broken tune as he prepares the table.

“paps, do you think this will be enough?” he asks, holding up a container of homemade soup he made by himself. He turns to the younger skeleton lingering near the jukebox, whose face is skeptical but amused.

“I THINK THAT SHOULD SUFFICE, BROTHER!” Papyrus says. “NO ONE WOULD EXPECT MUCH FROM YOU LAZYBONES, SO NO NEED TO BE SO WORRIED!”

Sans chuckles, putting the soup container onto the table. “you’re right, paps. shouldn’t be too important how it tastes – it’s the intention that counts.”

He walks up to the jukebox to see if it still works. A bit rusty from underuse, but he can fix it in a flash, no problem.

As he works, Papyrus trails behind him, his voice teasing. “WOW, YOU’RE REALLY PUTTING IT ALL THIS YEAR OF ALL TIME, HUH? FOOD, DECORATION, MUSIC, ALL THAT JAZZ. NYEH-HEH-HEH!”

“ha, good one, paps,” Murder snorts, then in a softer tone he continues. “it’s gyftmas. it’s supposed to be a special day. i guess… i just wanted to do something different, something new, this time. something nice. for you. for everyone else too.”

The next minutes are draped in silence, but the more comforting kind as Sans tinkers with the jukebox. Papyrus’ voice breaks it for just a moment. “IT’S WEIRD SEEING YOU SO… SENTIMENTAL.”

Sans doesn’t answer, busying himself with fixing the broken machine and then with arranging cracked plates and mismatched cutlery. He tries to be as meticulous as possible, careful not to disturb the frail air of festivity he has created in this small space. It should be a wonderful day today after all.

When everything is done, Sans sits in his place, reserving the place next to him for his brother. No one has arrived yet, but he guesses he can always start the feast early, a private celebration between him and Papyrus.

He pours a glass of wine for himself, then one for his brother. Papyrus looks a bit affronted at being offered a drink, but he doesn’t complain, so that should be good enough.

“a toast.” Sans raises his glass. “to time. to the end of a year. to family. to… the ones we’ve lost.” He clinks his glass softly against Papyrus, who doesn’t pick it up but does sigh, an exasperatedly fond sound.

“to you, sans. to your newfound resolution. and holding on to your goal for once in your life.”

Sans drinks, and drinks even more. The guests start to pour in, their voices echoing around him but muffled as if he was underwater. Only Papyrus is clear in the cacophony – a beacon of light he can hold onto in this strange but joyous time. Sans laughs at the jokes coming from Papyrus, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bar. He smiles as he listens to Papyrus recount the things he can’t be sure are real in his inebriated state – childhood memories, plans for the future, a warmth that doesn’t spread to his snow-soaked bones anymore.

So, he drinks again. And again. And again.

As the nights wear on, some things start to slip through to his foggy mind. Plates that remain untouched. Wine bottles that remain unpoured. The soup he made sit alone on the table, growing colder by the second.

And yet, Sans still smiles. At his brother, who hasn’t changed at all. “thanks for staying this time,” he whispers, trying to touch Papyrus’ hand but stopping at the last moment, the distance between them so small yet so inexplicably big at the same time.

“OF COURSE, SANS,” Papyrus says, a faint grin on his severed skull. “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

It has been raining snow a lot these past few days in the town. A normal monster would be freezing out in the snow, but, well, he’s hardly a normal monster anymore, is he? Few things phase him at this point, and the cold isn’t one of them.

He knows he isn’t supposed to get close to anyone, but he can’t help it when his friend hasn’t been here with him for months now and the light show in the snowy town is too tantalizing to pass up. So he goes in, wearing a large puffy coat and some hat and scarf to cover his whole face up – a perfect disguise. Now he looks like one of the children playing around near the big tree in the town center. Just a normal, socially awkward child standing near a building, watching his peers mess around from afar. It isn’t exactly fun, but it’s something to do to sate off the gnawing boredom in his chest.

And then, he sees them again.

A skeleton monster just like him – how peculiar. He was interested of course, but something has held him back, something nagging at him at the back of his mind. He can’t name it exactly, but it makes his SOUL pang uncomfortably in his ribs, as if warning him of something. So, he is content with just staying back, idly watching the scene play out.

The strange skeleton monster has been doing this for days – asking people around about their sibling, someone with a name that keeps slipping away from his mind. Again, how odd. Everything about this skeleton monster is odd, from the way they tower over most people yet never intimidate anyone, to the way they enthusiastically play and talk with the town’s children like it’s second nature to them. They’re an opposite of him, and yet-

Ah, whatever. It’s no use thinking about it anyway.

He watches as the skeleton monster again asking the townsfolk about their brother again. And again no one has any clue where the missing person can be. The monster looks dejected, but only for a moment. The resilience… it would be heartwarming to see if he had one.

He subconsciously takes a few steps when the monster finally stops at the giant tree with presents underneath it. He has taken some of the presents for himself, and no one seems to have noticed so far. The skeleton monster looks up at the tree, which has a star on top of it. When he gets just close enough, he can vaguely make out what they’re saying.

“-I WISH THAT THIS GYFTMAS, MY BROTHER WILL RETURN HOME! HE STILL HASN’T PICKED UP HIS SOCKS, NYEH!” the monster grumbles, then in a softer tone continues with a mournful sigh. “… I WISH I HAD SEEN THE SIGNS. HE HASN’T ALWAYS BEEN THE MOST CHEERFUL PERSON, BUT I THOUGHT HE’D TELL ME IF SOMETHING’S WRONG. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED… I DON’T KNOW WHY HE LEFT… I FEAR THAT- NO, THAT’S- I WOULD KNOW ABOUT IT, SURELY!”

The phantom watches the whole scene slow around him. There’s something about this monster that feels familiar to him yet fills him with dread. They’re… weak. Vulnerable. Sentimental to a fault. In this world, it’s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. There’s no place for kindness when everyone is out to get you.

But, looking at this monster, whose eyelights sparkle under the lights, he feels an urge to avert his eyes, something clawing at his red-hot deadened SOUL. A memory flickers in his jumbled mind: his friend showing him the real stars on the surface, twinkling like their carefree eyes.

Ah, isn’t he forgetting something?

He turns away, boots crunching in the snow as he disappears into the shadows. This is just a distraction – a fun yet trivial thought experiment. But the image of the monster standing under the Gyftmas tree, wishing for something impossible, stays in his mind long after he’s gone.

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proheromidoriyashouto · 2 days ago

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Rookanis Accidental Baby Acquisition AU

Zara Renata was about to call Illario "amatus", right? Lover? Wouldn't it be fucked up if they had a child. Like in a back room or office or something and Rook's team and Lucanis found them before they left the Ossuary.

Assuming Zara had real feelings for Illario, maybe she felt bad to had "killed" his beloved cousin and was like "Here. Another of your bloodline to love." Which for blood mages is probably of some significance.

And Illario couldn't bring this bastard Dellamorte home to Caterina. There's too much at stake at the moment. He'll come for them after making himself the First Talon and eliminating the threat of the Crows. His regime was going to align with the Venatori anyway so it's just a waiting game. His claim will be stronger when he reveals an heir with Venatori ties, too.

Except maybe Zara locked their child away before fighting Rook's party- for protection- so Illario had to make the call to leave them behind, intending to return after they'd left, only to find that Rook and company have already come to the rescue.

What does he do? He can't accuse Rook and Lucanis of having his secret Venatori bastard in their possession. He doesn't even know that for certain. Another Venatori could have made the rounds and taken them along to another facility.

He's panicking because his cousin he tried to have assassinated is very much alive, furious about it, and his own infant child is out in the world somewhere lost, possibly in the possession of mages who work for the Blighted gods, and the Crows are bound to find out--!

Meanwhile, Rook and company have a baby now. Even if they can't be 100% sure Illario is the father, they can't just leave this kid at any orphanage. Their mother was Zara Renata, infamous Zenatori blood mage, with no shortage of enemies who could possibly do something terrible blood-magic-fucked-up-style to a baby.

Despite Lucanis absolutely denying Illario's possible paternity, the child is obviously Antivan with big dark brown eyes and the thick wavy hair. Lucanis cannot handle the much more at this point. He was just freed from imprisonment after a year of being tortured and fused with a demon, certain someone in the Crows has betrayed him, he does not sleep, he's so tired. He's a man on the brink. He can just agree that the child is better off with his new employer than a blood mage prison or without protection out in the world.

He does not stay up at night thinking about the familiar features of his cousin brother on a small round face just a few rooms away. He has enough on his mind, Spite! And if he thinking about the baby, it's only because he can't comprehend how a monster like Zara Renata had such an innocent creature in her clutches in that gods-forsaken place.

The team is hesitant on how to even start taking care of a baby, but Rook is into it. They're so cute! And sure babies cry and poop and test one's patience, but it there's anyone who is going to understanding about it, it's going to be the optimistic team leader who made the call to take the child with them in the first place. Rook made that choice and they're going to stand by it. Besides, the child needs someone to be a consistent caretaker right?

While the team helps in the day time, nighttime feedings and diaper changes are mostly Rook's responsibility. And the milk station is in the kitchen where Lucanis just so happens to be most nights.

Reluctant baby bonding with Lucanis every night. Talking in soft tones over the sounds of infant suckling at a warm bottle in Rook's arms. Lucanis offering to burp them over his shoulder, nose buried in their soft hair, Spite quiet for once. Rook sitting next to him and telling he's good at this, taking care of others. Something he's never been allowed to do with Caterina all but caging him within the confines of Crow duty and terror as surely as any mage's prison.

Hands touching as the baby is transferred from one another. Rook catching Lucanis' soft, unguarded smile looking down at the babbling baby, little hands reaching for his face. Lucanis scolding the baby in a playful voice when they tug at his beard and hair. That kind of dexterity will be good for handling kitchen knives later.

Maybe he could teach them to bake? They might make a good kitchen assistant if he starts tutoring them now before the team can pass down bad habits. He tells them never to follow Harding's cooking advice or develop Neve's preference for Tevinter coffee. They will be a good little Antivan chef, yes.

Shared glances over late-night coffee and cioccolata calda and an empty milk bottle. Giving unhelpful advice on how to properly change a cloth diaper, knocking shoulders. Exasperated sighs as they take turns bouncing the crying baby trying to soothe some unknown hurt for hours. Spite's wings fascinating the baby, who stops crying to reach for black feathers that disappear as they brush against their skin. A first kiss shared over a sleepy child cuddled to Lucanis' chest.

Even after accepting the truth, Lucanis can't bring them to Caterina. Can't stomach this child going through the same conditional love and training to be a Crow that he went through, and that will inevitably happen if he, or Illario, come forward about it.

So he makes the decision to lock up Illario just so he can approach him in private to imply that the child has been found and is safe in Rook's hands. Because Lucanis still loves Illario, and Illario does care somewhere deep down about his child's life. Lucanis can't afford to lose the family he's finding for himself now, not even for the family he used to have. It's a tenuous balance.

And in the years to come, if that child lives in a Lighthouse in the Fade, and squeals a delighted papà! as soon as they see Lucanis returning from Treviso. Well. That's Veilguard, not Crow, business.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #can be any gender rook ofc #crow rook in my mind though #inspired by fics where rook takes their exile true and personal and refuses/avoids viago and treviso #this rook in my mind is freelancing hero stuff after the events of the game and stays living in the lighthouse #the space and lack of rent are pretty sweet #and it makes a safe place to raise a dellamorte bastard with their dellamorte lover as a former crow and current crow talon respectively #havent played the game yet so ignore lore inaccuracy and just be insane with me fellas

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gabrielleyueerrrrr · 13 hours ago

Text

Rain Lilies - AVA/M

Word count: 2,165

CW/TW: - Canonical character death, if you survived AVA 11, you can survive this :)

Characters: Victim, Mitsi, Agent

Relationships: VictimxMitsi, Victim&Mitsi, Victim&Agent

Addtional tags: It gets better before it gets worse, Victim has speech impediment, Mitsi my beloved is trying her best

Summary: Mitsi and Victim grow some flowers.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

A brown paper bag rested on the table, slumped slightly under the weight of its contents. Inside it were small, teardrop-shaped bulbs, their surfaces covered in delicate, dry papery layers.

Victim frowned at it. “M-Mitsi... d-did you double-check our g-grocery list? We d-don’t need this m-many... sh-shallots, do we?”

The familiar stammer clawed its way out of him, and frustration curled tight in his chest. He should have learnt to speak properly by now-

“Hmm?” Mitsi’s head appeared from the kitchen, her ponytail swaying as she turned toward him. She followed his gaze to the bag, then broke into a delighted giggle. “Oh, Vicky, no! These aren’t shallots—they’re flower bulbs!”

Victim blinked. “Fl-flower bulbs?”

“Yep! The auntie at the flower shop gave them to me for free, as a thank-you gift for fixing her radio.” Mitsi hopped over and reached for Victim’s hands, her slender fingers wrapping warmly around his. Victim stiffened, but she didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she didn’t care. “I thought we could plant them in the front yard! Imagine—a little garden of our own. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Her eyes sparkled, bright with excitement.

How she can find joy in every little thing around them, Victim could never understand.

Victim tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “W-why would you want to do th-that?” he asked, his voice slow, hesitant. “It’s not like they c-can b-be eaten... or, or turned into s-something useful.” He flicked his gaze to Mitsi’s face, bracing for the impatience or annoyance he’d come to expect from others. But all he found was her usual gentle smile, as if he hadn’t stumbled over every word.

"B-but if you like, like flowers, we c-can always buy some..." His voice grew smaller and smaller.

“Well, sure,” Mitsi said breezily, giving his hands a small squeeze. “But what’s the fun in that?”

“I d-don’t see the ap-appeal in handling dirt all, all day.” Victim muttered.

Her smile widened, and she leaned closer, a playful glint in her eyes. “But have you ever tried gardening before?”

“…N-no?”

“Then how do you know it’s not fun?”

“I…” Victim opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded, defeated.

Mitsi laughed, the sound light and clear, like the tinkling of silver bells. “Come on, Vicky! I know you’ll love it.”

»»———— ❋ ————-««

“Y-you know I can just…use my tools to make a h-hedge, right? Much q-quicker and sturdier.” Victim crossed his arms, glancing down at his partner, tone unimpressed. Mitsi sat cross-legged on the ground, humming a cheerful tune as she stitched together pieces of branches with straws.

“Yes, but I want to do it this way,” she replied, testing the durability of her handiwork before driving it firmly into the dirt.

Victim sighed and leaned his full weight against the makeshift hedge, pressing it deeper into the soil. “I d-don't know why you insist on doing e-everything by h-hand,” he said, his voice breathless from the effort.

“Well…” Mitsi paused to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead. “It feels like cheating to use quick and easy solutions for something like building a garden. Kind of takes away the magic, don’t you think?”

Victim shook his head, watching as she moved on to another piece. “I d-don’t think I get it, but…” He crouched beside her, meeting her expectant gaze. “Show me how you w-want it d-done.”

Remove all the grass and weeds.

Loosen the soil to a depth of 2-3 inches.

Plant the bulbs 2-3 inches deep, with the pointed end facing up.

Water the bulbs thoroughly.

Finally, add a layer of mulch on top of the soil.

By the time they finished, the sun was setting, casting their small garden in a honey-colored glow.

The two of them collapsed onto the ground, shoulder to shoulder, panting as they admired their work in silence. The soft chirping of crickets filled the air, and the tiny patch of earth in front of them looks tidy and full of promise.

"Oh, Vicky, hold still-"

“Hm?” Victim turned, only to feel Mitsi’s fingers brush against his cheek, wiping away a smudge of dirt.

“There.” She smiled, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of the alpenglow. For a moment, she looked at him like she’d uncovered some hidden treasure.

And although every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion, and his back was sticky with sweat, Victim thought that maybe, gardening wasn’t so bad after all.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

For the next few weeks, their garden thrived. Baby-green shoots emerged first, sharp as needles yet tender as silk. The shoots grew, unfurling slender, elegant leaves that swayed gently in the breeze. Two months after planting, small, tightly bundled buds began to form at the tips of the stems. Despite himself, Victim often found his gaze drawn to the window, secretly hoping to catch their first bloom unfurling under the sunlight.

Spring faded, its warm, floral breezes giving way to the heavy stillness of summer. The days grew hotter, quieter, as though the world itself were holding its breath.

Then, without warning, the storm struck.

The sky turned a bruised gray, and rain fell in relentless, bullet-like drops that battered the earth. Their little house shuddered under the force of the wind and rain, its wooden walls groaning like an old ship at sea.

Victim paced fretfully back and forth in front of the window, his gaze fixed on the blurred outlines of the garden. The rain fell too hard, too fast, obscuring everything. The thought of their flowers—exposed, their delicate leaves tearing and stems snapping under the storm—made his chest tighten.

“Vicky, what’s wrong?” Mitsi’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, but this time, her touch didn’t calm him. He shrugged her hand off, his stammer spilling out faster than usual.

“I-it’s all my f-fault,” he cradled his head, shaking it in frustration. “T-the flowers… I-I should’ve… s-set up a canopy, or… or s-something. I-I should’ve kn-known this w-would happen.”

“Oh, Vicky…” Mitsi cupped his face, her hands firm yet gentle as she lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “It’s not your fault. No one could’ve seen this storm coming.”

“T-the flowers, they’re p-probably all r-ruined…”

“They’re not,” Mitsi said softly, her tone sure and unwavering. “Storms happen all the time in the wild. If wildflowers can survive, ours can too.”

“H-how can you…be so sure?” he asked, his gaze flickering between her eyes and the rain outside.

“I'm not,” she admitted with a small smile. “But I choose to believe.”

Victim’s eyes widened. Mitsi wrapped her arms around him, she smelled of sunlight, dried wool, and machine oil. “Our flowers are strong, Vicky. Stronger than you think.”

He stayed still for a moment, then nodded slowly, leaning into the embrace. “…W-what should we do now?” he asked.

“We eat lunch,” Mitsi said, her voice steady and comforting like a weighted blanket, “And we wait for the storm to pass.”

»»———— ❋ ————-««

The rain ended as abruptly as it had begun. The sky slowly lifted, a thin ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds to bathe the ground. Everything felt freshly washed, the world damp and drowsy. A great silence settled in, broken only by the soft drip of water falling from the roof tiles.

The front door swung open with a gust of wind, and Mitsi darted outside toward the garden, Victim following closely behind, clutching the back of her jacket. Their footsteps splashed through puddles, sending droplets scattering. A frog, startled by the sudden movement, leaped from the middle of the road and vanished into the tall grass.

But then Mitsi stopped, making Victim nearly bumping into her. Wordlessly, he slipped her jacket over her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes, wide and bright, was fixed to the garden in front of her.

“Look!” She said in a hushed voice.

Victim took a small step to the side, his breath catching as he mentally braced himself for the worst.

“Ah…” was all he could manage.

Countless newly bloomed flowers peeked out from a sea of green leaves. Dew drops rested lazily on their delicate petals, reflecting the sunlight with a mischievous glint. When the wind passed through, they twinkled like stars—white, pink, and yellow. “Hello, hello!” they seemed to sing, "Hello, hello!"

“Rain lilies,” Mitsi whispered softly beside him, “They bloom after a storm.”

Victim’s hand found hers, his grip tight, “T-They made it,” he said, his voice trembling, a shaky laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe they made it.”

“No, Vicky!” Mitsi turned to hold both of Victim’s hands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at him then—more beautiful than he’d ever seen her—her face radiant with untamed joy. “We made it!”

With that, they spun in circles together, the cool, muddy earth squelching beneath their feet. Mitsi laughed a pure, contagious laugh, one that Victim would try to remember all his life. Their shoes were soaked, their trousers splattered with mud, but they couldn’t care any less.

And if a rainbow appeared above them, arching over their garden as though the heavens themselves were smiling down on them, well… that was just a bonus.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

“Sir, you need to rest.”

Victim didn’t respond. His fingers, stiff and numb, pressed the replay button again. The screen flickered to life, Agent’s memory recording lit up the dark room.

Fire, debris, the deafening screams. Mitsi running toward a citizen trapped under a collapsed wall. Mitsi struggling beneath the rubble while bombs of fire rain down upon her. Mitsi, swallowed by the explosion.

Three days after the destruction of Newgrounds, Victim sequestered himself in the memory machine room. He replayed the scene over and over, watching it until his eyes burned like acid, until his head felt ready to explode, until the diabolic face of the black hollowhead, Mitsi’s killer, was seared into his mind, his nightmares, his soul.

Agent crouched in front of him. Behind his sunglasses, his best friend’s eyes were bloodshot, full of pleading.

“Vic, please.” Agent’s voice shook, and Victim had a sudden image of him teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Slowly, Victim stood, his joints stiff and protesting. He trudged toward the office he and Mitsi had shared, feeling the weight of Agent’s gaze on his back, a ghost haunting his every step.

Inside, the office felt strangely large and hollow. Mitsi’s big armchair faced away from him, as though it would turn at any moment to reveal her—smiling, teasing him across the desk. “And where have you been, my second-in-command?”

A horrible, broken sound tore from his throat, he swallowed it, covering his face as he walked quickly to his own desk.

But it wasn’t empty like he expected.

A gift box, wrapped meticulously in grey ribbon, sat in the middle of the desk. His heart skipped a beat. He recognized the handwriting on the tag.

For Vicky.

His hand shook as he opened the gift box, careful not to damage it in the slightest. Inside lay a flower crown, its glossy green leaves shimmering faintly. Inlaid among them, were—

When the wind passed through, they twinkled like stars — white, pink, and yellow.

—rain lilies.

Tears blurred his vision as he held the crown against his chest, cradling it as if it were the last piece of his girl left behind.

Beneath it, he found one last thing: a folded card.

He opened it slowly, reverently, like it was made of butterfly wings.

To my dearest Vicky,

Happy 4th anniversary of Rocket Inc.! I’ve always wanted to give you something special for this day, and I know you’d probably prefer something practical, but please don’t be mad at me for this flower crown instead! It took me forever to make—the flowers keep falling out—but I hope you’ll still like it. :)

Do you remember our garden? The rain lilies we planted? They’re my favorite flowers, you know. And I think they’re perfect for you, because they always bloom after a storm. I’ve always thought of them as a symbol of new beginnings. No matter how wild the storm, the rain lilies still bloom—stronger, more beautiful than before.

When we first met, you were hurting, Vicky. You were lost in your own storms, troubled by things I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I saw you change, little by little, bit by bit, you grew stronger. More confident. Happier. It’s hard for you to see, but I saw it. Every day.

You’re like our rain lilies, Vicky. You’ve faced your storms, even when you thought you wouldn’t survive them. But here you are, blooming. And I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.

I hope this flower crown helps remind you of that strength, of everything you’ve already overcome. And whenever you feel like the storm is too much, just look at the rain lilies. They’ll be here, just like me.

I’ll always be with you.

Yours, M ♡

#alan becker #animator vs animation #ava victim #ava mitsi #ava agent smith #ava fanfic #animator vs minecraft

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