#he’s just end up feeling worse and hurting himself farther

[thechaotichorselord]

Paratober Day 5

Internet.

[ckret2]

Reading the book I couldn't help but notice how weirdly touchy Bill is when it comes to his previous romantic relationships. He stops himself from talking about his exes and loses his cool whenever the topic is brought up. What's up with that?

Bill is a toxic, controlling person who's perfectly charming and likable (albeit manipulative as the devil) when he's getting his way, but the moment he isn't getting his way, he gets abusive—emotionally, verbally, physically, psychically...

Look at his relationship with Ford: regardless of whether you interpret that as romantic or platonic, Ford is somebody he liked enough that he went on a bender that ended with grossly sobbing in a fast food restaurant when their partnership fell apart; and yet, as much as Bill liked Ford, when Ford refused to do what he asked, Bill had no trouble mangling him, publicly humiliating him, getting him in legal trouble, attempting to emotionally torment his brother, and threatening worse. That's what he does to a person he likes.

Do you think he was any kinder when he didn't like what his lovers did?

I think every one of his relationships ended not just badly, but SPECTACULARLY horribly. "Hours long screaming match" horribly, "break all the furniture" horribly, "quickly and secretly moving out while Bill's distracted" horribly, "looking up how to file a restraining order from the hospital bed" horribly. Bloody Mary ghosting him is probably one of the softest breakups he's had (and I suspect it's because she saw the red flags and ran before Bill could show his worst side).

NONE of those breakups were amicable. All Bill's exes hate his guts—the ones that survived him, anyway.

And I'd bet you anything that how abusive he got correlated with how much he loved them. (And let's not have any "but that isn't REALLY love" nonsense—performing love as an action and feeling love as an emotion are two different things, and abusers are capable of feeling love for someone they think they've got the right to hurt.)

The more he likes this person, the more it matters to him that they stay forever in the little box he's put them in and the farther he's willing to go to ensure they don't defy or leave him. The more he loved them, the more he hurt them, and the more devastating the breakup.

But if he liked them that much, then the fact that it's OBVIOUSLY his fault wouldn't make getting dumped hurt less. Getting dumped is the thing he was trying to prevent by making them too scared to leave!

All Bill's memories of his exes are memories of people he loved telling him how much they detest him and cutting him out of their lives. Of course he doesn't want to talk about it.

Bill says himself, "love is just the pupa stage for hate." In his experience, that's how it always ends.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you become the first of many tragic deaths...

tw: murder, graphic descriptions of injuries, suicide, descriptions of a corpse, spoilers for all of the game basically

a/n: LAST PART! gosh I had such an evil smile writing the beginning of this. sorry that the end is literally just the game, I wasn't sure how to make commentary on it that the game doesn't do beautifully already :(

wc: 2.9k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

no

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

This couldn’t be real.

“They came at me like they went mad.”

You couldn’t be gone, you wouldn’t leave him like that.

“I had no choice!”

Daisuke felt like he was going to puke, your unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling, lips slightly parted and the darkening skin around your neck. 

“It was either me or them.” 

Daisuke felt his hands shake. He couldn’t accept this, there was no way you were dead. You would get up any second and say this was a prank. Please. He doesn’t think he can handle this. You had been the only one keeping him sane, the only one he found comfort in, the only one to stand up for him if he felt uncomfortable doing something. You both were supposed to get off this rock together. You were supposed to meet his parents and have dinner and…and…and

Daisuke felt himself let out a sob, rushing towards your body and falling to his knees. Shaky hands reached out towards your face. You felt cold. You weren’t supposed to be this cold. You needed a blanket, or…or something. His hand went from caressing your cheek to holding your hand, bringing it up to his face. Your knuckles were bloody, but Daisuke didn’t care, he just wished you could cup his cheek again, reassure him that everything would be okay and you would always be there for him. 

Swansea scoffed at Jimmy, glaring daggers at the man, “Right, like they were much of a threat.”

“You think I’d lie about this?” Jimmy seethed. “You think I enjoyed doing that?”

Anya felt like herself plunging even farther down her spiral of madness. Why the hell did she tell you? Every time she tries to speak up, to get comfort, to find help for what’s happened to her she finds another tragedy left in her wake. First it was the crash and Curly, now you’re dead…who else will get hurt because of her? She couldn’t even look at your body or face Daisuke. Your cloudy eyes seemed to be taunting her, blaming her, and Daisuke’s sobs were like a stab to the heart. 

“Maybe you did,” Swansea glowered, bumping harshly into Jimmy’s shoulder as he walked past towards Daisuke. “C’mon kid, you shouldn’t see ‘em like this.”

“N-no!��� Daisuke protested, trying to free himself from Swansea’s grip on his shoulder, clinging onto you desperately. “I-I can’t leave them. I just can’t…”

…

Your death made the tension on the ship worse. It caused the crew to be more distrustful of Jimmy, something he hated. Who did they think they were to judge him? You were like a wild animal, your assault had no end in sight? Was he supposed to let you beat him to a pulp? It’s not like there were enough medical supplies for that, and for all he knew you weren’t going to stop. 

Daisuke’s cheerful demeanor had darkened, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, even if it was wobbly and didn’t reach his eyes. He would try to joke, to say something silly to lighten the atmosphere, but it started to come out forced, and he couldn’t help but imagine how’d you react. Would you laugh? Smile? Roll your eyes and shake your head? And just like that he’d feel his mood drop all over again. 

It had been a month since your death and he still couldn’t move on. He had got to know you over eight months, and for five of them you both were dating. Gosh, you really made the trip go by so quickly (even though it felt like you had been in space forever). And after the crash, you made it just a bit more bearable to be sitting like a waiting duck in the middle of nowhere. But now you’re gone, and the crash happened five months ago, and he could feel the despair start to consume him slowly but surely. 

Anya had kept to herself more than usual as well, tending to Curly as best she could. They ran out of clean bandages ages ago, so she couldn’t tend to his wounds as well. They had no more disinfectant, so the best she could do was try and keep him as comfortable as possible. Just focus on doing her job so she couldn’t think too much, so she wouldn’t think of how Curly's silent stare reminded her of your blank gaze. Try to keep her cries to herself when she was alone in the medical bay with Curly. 

Swansea was vehemently trying to protect the last working cryopod. He thought you and Daisuke were the most worthy of it, but fell under the dilemma of who it would go to between you both. It was clear neither of you would leave the other, and Swansea knew better than most what it was like to be completely infatuated with someone. When you believe you’d do anything for them, that you’d rather die than see them hurt. Seems like Jimmy solved that little problem for him. Swansea couldn’t help but internally seethe when he saw your body. If you were angry enough to throw a punch, then whoever it was you were punching deserved it, ‘cus you were one of the most level headed ones of them here. 

Jimmy? Oh, he was spirling further and further. The judgemental looks Swansea sent his way, or how Daisuke seemed to avoid him like the plague…he felt his control slipping, and he needed a way to feel in power again. To feel like he was in charge. So he took it out on Anya, the first person he’d go to when he needed to be in control. Whispering harsh words without an ounce of guilt, venom seeping past his lips and poisoning those around him.

Anya couldn’t take it anymore, the entire situation was too much. Jimmy terrified her, and the guilt was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t handle it, rushing to the medical bay and locking the door. Curly’s stare pierced through her as Daisuke called out to her, asking if she was stuck. Anya didn’t have the heart to tell Daisuke how terrified she was, how the medical bay was her only safe place. So she told him she couldn’t leave, hoping everyone would leave her alone.

She was scared. Scared of what Jimmy would do in response to her pregnancy, her refusal to follow what he wanted. He had proven her fears right. That he was willing to kill. She thought hiding the gun or the fact that Swansea kept the axe would be enough protection, but he had killed you with his bare hands…

But sweet, sweet Daisuke was worried for Anya. Asking Jimmy for help, not wanting to see another crew member dead. Especially not Anya, you cared for her so much, he couldn’t imagine the despair you’d go through if she were to pass. 

“Anya!” Daisuke called through the thick metal door. “I brought Jimmy! We’re here to rescue you! Don’t worry! Don’t panic!” It was meant to be reassuring, but it seems like Daisuke was trying to comfort himself as well. 

“Hey,” Jimmy called out nonchalantly. “Heard the lock’s broken.”

Anya felt her heart drop, hands shaky as she refused to respond. 

“Hey. Anya!” Jimmy spoke louder, feeling irritated now. “Can you hear me?”

“...yeah, I can hear you, Jimmy,” Anya replied. Looking at the last of the paracetamol and grabbing it, sitting down beside Curly’s cot. 

“There rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn, this could be bad,” Jimmy grumbled, clearly not caring about Anya’s safety. “Did you really put your back into it?” “Any wrenches laying around?” Daisuke asked, the pit in his stomach only growing. “How heavy is the med kit?!”

With no response, Daisuke tried jiggling the handle again, his efforts being fruitless. 

“...Anya,” Jimmy called out coldly. “Is the door really stuck?”

“...” 

The silence caused bile rise in Daisuke’s throat. No, no no no

“No,” Anya replied strongly. 

No no no no. Not again. Daisuke tried more desperately to jiggle the handle. 

“H-huh?” Daisuke called out, trying to see any way that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. “What do you mean?!”

“Look, we’re all stressed,” Jimmy scolded, brushing off her emotions. “But you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship. Open the damn door.”

“...you were right,” Anya spoke out, hands failing to open the cap a few times. “You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.”

A strange sense of calm fell over the practicing nurse as the safety lid finally opened. It was going to be over, finally. 

“You think I wanted this either?” She laughed humorlessly, a grim smile on her lips. “Make no mistake, this isn’t my worst moment. Far from it. It’s the best one I’ll ever make.” 

“Open the door,” Jimmy ordered, clenching his fists tightly. Daisuke placed his hand on the door, that dreadful sense of hopelessness tearing his heart apart. This wasn’t happening, no way. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Were her last words before she downed the rest of the pain medication. 

“Anya?!” Daisuke called out, banging on the door. “What does that mean?!”

…

This wasn’t right. Daisuke wearily eyed the vent that held sparking cables. 

“Swansea said it’s not safe,” Daisuke tried to argue against Jimmy’s demands to enter. “I know he forgot to tell us about the pod, but he knows, like, everything about this kind of stuff. Maybe we should just wait for him to wake back up…”

“You said you could handle it,” Jimmy glared. Everything was slipping out of his control, first you, then Anya, then Swansea…he’d be damned if he let Daisuke rebel too. “Swansea taught you well, right? Time to prove it. He’ll be impressed when he wakes up. Proud. He’ll understand why we had to do this, then he can explain himself.”

“You think so?” Daisuke asks, alarm bells ringing. Glancing back at the vent, Daisuke couldn’t help but think about how you’d react. Probably fight against this, yell about how dangerous this was and if Jimmy wanted someone to crawl through that hazard then he should do it himself…but you weren’t here anymore, and Swansea was passed out from a drink he made with Jimmy…and Anya…

“Daisuke,” Jimmy spoke sternly. “Everyone’s counting on you…Captain’s orders.”

And in that moment, it really felt like this all fell onto his shoulders. Jimmy’s arguments made sense…if he could save Anya and Curly, maybe he could make both you and Swansea proud.

“Y-yeah,” Daisuke nodded, trying to hype himself up. “I got this!”

“Okay…” He made his first step towards the vent. “H-here we go…”

Grabbing the ladder, he climbed his way into the vent. A sense of claustrophobia hit him right away, trying to avoid any curling livewire or sharp metal, but it was clear this was the wrong choice. Daisuke let out a sharp gasp, feeling his body get zapped by an unseen electrical current, letting out a groan when he felt something cut his skin. He couldn’t stop now though, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it stung, how he started to feel sluggish. No, he pushed through, he needed to get to Anya, needed to make sure everything was okay. Ignoring the way tears pricked at his eyes, or how it took all his strength and energy to pull himself up into the medical bay, he needed to keep…

“Anya…?” Daisuke gasped out in horror, the pain both physical and emotional becoming too much. “...what d-did you do?”

…

Daisuke couldn’t stop squirming, he could still feel the stings of electricity, like his muscles had become a livewire themselves. The burns and cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Daisuke felt worthless. This was all for nothing, and the two adults were arguing over him. 

“Don’t do anything,” Jimmy huffed, not sure if he was talking to Swansea or Daisuke. “Stop, stop, stop. I can fix this!”

Maybe it won’t all be bad…maybe you’re waiting for him. He just hopes his mom won’t blame herself, that his parents will be able to continue to live a happy life…

“Why do you keep fuckin’ saying that?” Swansea shouted. “Are you hearing yourself?!”

“I-I’m s-sorry…” Daisuke muttered out. This is all his fault, he should’ve never entered that stupid vent. It was too late for Anya anyways, and now Swansea was angry…he doesn’t even wanna think about how you’d react…

“We still have disinfectant, right?” Swansea asked, trying to think of a way to keep Daisuke alive. “The one from the extra medical stash? Get it! Now!”

Jimmy avoided Swansea’s gaze, looking down to a struggling Daisuke, grinding his teeth, “The cocktail, we…you…”

“The cocktail?!” Swansea roared, rightfully pissed. “What are you blabbering about?”

“That was your fault!” Jimmy deflected, pointing at the older man. “You would never have-”

“I-I had no choice.”

“You…” Swansea sneered, banging his fist against the wall. “Useless! You goddamn fucking idiot! There has to be something else!”

Daisuke wasn’t sure how long they left him alone, but he found himself coming to terms with his fate, feeling guilty. He had always been a useless mess up, a last minute intern who didn’t even want to be here. It seems like even his final moments were because he fucked up. 

“I’m so…rry,” Daisuke struggled to speak as Jimmy crouched next to him. “I messed…up…mgh.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the way his muscles continued to tense and relax, like he was being continuously electrocuted. He could feel his wounds pulse with every contraction, blood trickling out like a steady stream. 

“Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy ordered, uncapping the bottle of mouthwash, pouring it on his wounds. 

…

“...the bleeding won’t stop,” Jimmy mumbled. “Just try to stay still, Daisuke. I-I need a second to think. We can fix this.”

“Hey, kid?” Swansea called out softly. “You hear me?” Daisuke could only make a strangled groan in response, everything felt like it was on fire and he could feel his body cry out for sleep, but the pain wouldn’t let him rest. Even breathing became a task he had to focus on.

“Daisuke?” Swansea called out again, feeling his heart break further at the sight as Daisuke jolted up in pain. “Hey!” Jimmy shouted, watching in horror as Swansea picked up the axe. “Stop, stop, stop! Don’t move!”

“It’s alright Daisuke,” Swansea comforted his young intern. “Calm down. This line of work…you could have never become like miserable ol’ Swansea. What a tragedy. Decades of hauling ass for Pony Express, big mighty bruiser with all his shiny tools. This is where it got me. The good life, huh?”

“I thought you were dumber than a can of paint, always just chewing my ear off about nothing,” Swansea continued. “Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. Not an ace student, workhorse or force of ambition. Just a damn good kid trying his best. You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot.”

“...”

“Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

…

no.

no no no no no no

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Everything was fine! He had it all under control! Swansea had gone crazy, that’s why he killed Daisuke, that’s why Jimmy was forced to tie him up before he was another victim to the crazy madman. This wasn’t his fault. No one was letting him fix a goddamn thing! This was all because everyone stepped out of line. First you attacked him, then Anya decided to be selfish, then Swansea murdered Daisuke, now he is being attacked again. None of this was his fault, not a goddamn thing.

“I have something to say,” Swansea spoke up calmly, not batting an eye as Jimmy stood before him holding the gun. “So shut the fuck up and listen.”

But Jimmy wasn’t having it. No. He couldn’t listen, because if he listened, then he’d have to take responsibility. He’d have to admit that he failed, that they died because of his selfish actions. Clutching the gun just a bit tighter, Jimmy spoke resolutely.

“Swansea…I’m going to fix everything. We’re going to make it.”

“Fuck you.”

…

This would all be over now. It’ll all be fixed. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Curly’s stare burned through him as he carried his former Captain. This was the only way now, the only thing he could do to make this better. Swansea was right, a captain goes down with his ship, so that left only one person to take the cryopod. 

“It’s okay, Curly,” Jimmy consoled through the glass panel. “You’re going to be okay. You always had my back. I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us. But now you’ll survive. It’s like you said, together we can fix anything. I’m just proud I got to be your friend and co-pilot, Captain.”

“No one can hurt you now. We fixed it.”

“I…fixed it…”

[drabblejester]

Boothill hcs or oneshot with a mechanic reader?

Please and thank you!!

BOOTHILL and his MECHANIC!READER!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: boothill x mechanic!reader (romantic or platonic)

content warnings: angst. angst. a lot of angst

comments: you didn’t specify if you wanted it fluffy or not my liegeHEEHEE…. i was listening to euthanasia - will wood while writing this btw

Old Habits Die Hard

(wc: 619)

You sat alone in your office, scrambled papers and tools being your only company at the moment. Many papers you needed to sign, many machines you needed to fix up. Your life was a never ending buzz of being busy and tired, truly.

Your latest ‘project’ hasn’t been back in a while, however. Of course, calling him simply a project was inhumane. Even he was human once, in a far away past. You weren’t the one to initially fix him up, sure, but he told you about it all. The previous mechanics and scientists, how they turned him into a machine- and now you need to fill up that role.

Your door creaked open.

And your one and only Boothill stood in the doorway, hunched over with strands of hair stuck to his face. Although he did not have proper lungs anymore, old habits die hard. His chest still heaved, uneven and shaking. As stoic as he was, he seemed more broken down than you thought.

You stood up from your chair, brushing eraser dust from your pants as you approach him slowly. The lights in your office were dimmed, only the glow from Boothill’s eyes and a few lights illuminating you both. His crosshairs faded away as you approached him, you hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder. He notices.

“Too- too scared to put your hands on me, doc?”

His stutter wasn’t just because of a broken voicebox, but also due to his emotions. Damn to such organic things. His head raised slightly, hair covering his face enough to cover most details. But he still stared at you with those unreadable eyes.

His emotions have become much more different, and much more difficult to decipher now. You couldn’t tell if he was scared, or enraged. Possibly a mix of both. Fuck, you were an engineer, not a therapist. But you still try to brush away a few strands of his hair, tucking them behind his ear.

And at that moment, he crumbled to the floor. The loud squealing of rusted metal combined with a rough impact made your head hurt. But he simply sat there in front of you, one arm still remaining on the doorway, both knees on the floor, and his head faced away from you and tilted down. His body tremored heavily, sobs wracking his body with no tears.

He had no more tears left to cry, the ducts in his eyes being barren for years. It was the simple inability to do such a human thing- to cry- that made him feel worse. He really did lose himself.

You kneel down in front of him as well, boots squeaking on the floor. You look at him through his matted hair, through those metal eyes. And all you see, is a scared young man, who’s seen too much too soon. Your expression is tired but gentle, difficult to see, just like his.

You reach out for him once more. He flinches. You bring your hand back for a moment, before he grabs it roughly. His grip quickly softens though, rubbing against the skin he gripped in a silent apology which you accept. He brings your hand to his cheek, his grip loosening before his hand drops to the floor.

He’d shut down soon, and you can repair him then. But for now, you simply sit there with him, your hand gently rubbing his cheek. His eyes close slowly, and his head leans into your palm and weighs heavily upon it.

“Y’know,” he mumbles with a broken voice, “My papas used t’ hold me just like this.”

“They did?” “They did.”

The silence in the room thickens after you both speak. You don’t want to remove your hand, so you shift yourself and Boothill into a better position. You lay farther back, using an empty box as a cushion. Boothill rests on your chest, your hand remaining on his cheek the whole time. He hums.

He hums a quiet, cautious tune. An old one that you don’t recognize, but it seems like Boothill knows it very well. He mumbles a few words to the lullaby before his fans go silent, and his body fully slumps against yours.

Old habits do die hard.

i dont have anything funny to say im sorry

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Headcanons on all might, and Aizawa reacting to you being engaged to someone

I'm going off the basis that they find out you're engaged to someone and they secretly have feelings for you, to give this a little dash of angst. I might have hurt my own feelings a little, writing this lol

Characters: Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Contents: gn!reader, unrequited feelings

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

All Might has had a lot of women throw themselves at him over the years and he’s taken very few of them up on the offer, if any. Notice that I said All Might has had women throwing themselves at him. Not Toshinori. At least, not in the years since his injury caused such issues with his health. 

You’re probably close enough to him to know his secret. I don’t think he’d develop feelings for someone who only knew him as All Might, as that bombastic persona he puts on would naturally create a buffer between himself and you. But as Toshinori, he doesn’t have that luxury, and naturally, insidiously, his affection for you would start to grow. 

Toshinori isn’t exactly confident about his chances in love. He’s spent his whole life playing a role, hiding who he truly is, and now his health and Pro Hero career are in tatters. He wouldn’t expect anyone to want him as he is, despite protestations to the contrary. He hides it well, but he’s a little jaded, a little cynical in certain aspects.

Not only that, but on the off chance you did want to be with him, you’d end up being a target for every villain who wanted to get a crack at the untouchable All Might. He doesn’t have the strength to protect you. How can he put you in that kind of danger?

So he bites his tongue and grins, and listens to you chatter about this new person you’ve met. He can’t even dislike your new partner. They seem great. Charming. Successful. Kind. It doesn’t lessen the sting that it’s not him. It only gets worse as he sees you going farther and farther down the path of your future with that other person, slipping further and further away from him. 

That engagement ring on your finger rings the death knell for whatever ragged hopes he might have been clinging on to. He squeezes his bony hands into fists, congratulating you in a strained voice. His grin is as bright as ever, blinding you to how it dims around the edges. You notice that he doesn’t stay long at your engagement party, but that’s All Might for you! Always dashing off to play the hero…

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Aizawa is a master of ignoring his own feelings. Suppression, compartmentation, bottling it up…however you want to describe it, he does it. Especially when it comes to interpersonal connections that might leave him vulnerable. We never see him talk about his family, have relationships, and he even keeps his friends at arm’s length. 

It’s not just because it leaves him vulnerable. He harbours a deep-seated, irrational fear that anyone he gets close to will end up getting hurt, so he retreats at the first embers of a deeper connection. Sometimes he’s not even aware he’s doing it. 

That said, he’s still capable of being friends or colleagues with you. You’ll always feel as if there’s an invisible wall between the two of you, and every time you manage to make a chink the mortar, he bricks it right back up. 

So when you do eventually start dating someone else, he feels as if you’re both out of danger. He’s not exactly happy about it. Seeing you falling for someone else fills him with a bittersweet mix of relief and regret. 

Which he also then bottles up. Just open a fucking brewery, Aizawa.

When events follow their natural course and you end up getting engaged, it hits him. Hard. He sits there among your circle of friends or colleagues after you make the joyful announcement, sipping silently at his beer. His chest aches. His throat feels tight. 

And he can’t blame anyone but himself as he sits there, watching you laugh and toast your happy news with the others, your eyes shining. It’s not your fault that he feels this way; he did it to himself. Shouta orchestrated his own heartbreak, and he’s forced to sit there in stony silence as it unfolds before him.

Eventually he just slinks away, leaving his beer half-drunk on the table as the only sign of his presence at the gathering, the label half torn off. 

[junrenjun]

Understand

alpha!seungcheol x female beta!reader (side alpha!seungcheol x omega!jeonghan, with implied ot13 x reader)

genre: angst with a fluff ending

wc: 1736

warnings: mentions of injury, a/b/o dynamics, arguments

summary: seungcheol is pushing himself too far in his injury recovery. y/n calls him out and cheol says something he wishes he could take back.

a/n: couldn't sleep because this idea was stuck in my head. wrote some stuff down in google docs to get out of my brain and somehow ended up here. enjoy my first ever written fic i guess?

Seungcheol was getting fed up. Between not being able to work, not seeing the rest of his pack for most hours of the day, and having to deal with the pain in his knee, he was seconds from shutting down. You being home and scolding him like a naughty child for trying to be independent made it a whole lot worse. 

He knew you just wanted his knee to heal correctly, even if it took longer than he wanted it to. But he was impatient and he just wanted to get back to work. Working on standing without his crutches was something he should probably do with his doctor or physical therapist. But he was fine, they were going to work on it at his next session in a few days, so why not start a little early. The pain would be worth it if it meant he could go back to dancing sooner.

You however, did not feel the same, turning the corner into the kitchen and catching sight of him wincing in pain whilst holding onto a chair. “Choi Seungcheol! If I see you try to stand without your crutches one more time, I’m calling your doctor and having you put on bed rest.”

It shouldn’t have sent him over the edge. It was a threat with zero malice behind it, and he knew you wouldn’t really call his doctor. But for some reason, this was his breaking point. “I’m just so over everything y/n! I’m so frustrated with this stupid injury. I can’t work anymore. I can’t do anything that makes me happy and I have to watch the rest of the pack do it without me.”

You frowned. You knew he was upset with the injury taking him out of work for a few months, but you thought he would at least have some respect for his own body and health. “I know Cheol, I understand this is frustrating but hurting yourself isn’t the best way to address your feelings.”

“No y/n you don’t know! You’re the only beta in the pack, the only girl, and the only one who isn’t an idol. You don’t get to tell me that you understand because you don’t. Betas don’t understand emotions like alphas and omegas do.”

Seungcheol regretted it instantly. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill past your waterline. Your scent soured and Seungcheol flinched as it hit his nose. He watched as you took a shaky breath before calmly replying, “no Cheol, I guess I don’t understand,” promptly turning on your heel to return to the bedroom. 

Sighing, Seungcheol grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the kitchen table. He hobbled back to his room, flopping onto his bed carelessly. He didn’t even care about the pain in his knee anymore, too preoccupied with the pain in his heart. Frustratedly, he grabbed the pillow next to him, pushed his face into it and let out a sound that was halfway between a yell and a growl. How could he say something so stupid?

Seungcheol was too drowned in his own misery to hear your footsteps as they traveled down the hall and toward the front door. He wasn’t even aware you had left your room until the sound of the front door closing caught his attention. It was too early for the rest of the pack to be back from rehearsal, so it had to be you. The thought of you being so distraught that you had to leave the den was enough to make what was left of Seungcheol’s sanity snap. He pushed the pillow even farther into his face and sobbed until there was nothing left to cry.

.

Seungcheol groaned as the pillow was removed from his arms, letting the overhead light in his room shine harshly in his eyes. He almost let out a growl, warning the person who decided to disrupt his misery-induced sleep to leave him be, but the scent of his sweet omega left it hanging in the back of his throat. 

Jeonghan’s face appeared above him, finally blocking out the light that was threatening to cause a migraine. He heard the omega sigh in relief before saying, “well at least we know why you weren’t answering your phone. Do you know where y/n is? You smell like shit by the way.” 

Seungcheol just grunted in response. Jeonghan sighed and called out to Wonwoo, who Cheol assumed was in the main area. He didn’t listen in on their conversation, too busy trying to get rid of the buzzing in his head. All he could make out were a few repeated words: y/n, location, and phone.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol felt Jeonghan shift on the bed to lay next to him. He paused a second before saying, “I don’t know what happened between you two but if it makes you feel any better, she didn’t go too far. Just to the cafe a few streets down.”

Cheol sniffed. “How did you even know something happened?”

Jeonghan huffed before responding. “Neither of you were responding to our texts and calls when we were on the way home. Then we walked in and the main room smelled like upset beta and angry alpha. It didn’t take long to put two and two together.”

They laid in silence for a few moments. Seungcheol broke the silence with a broken sob. “I’m such a bad pack alpha,” he cried as he turned into Jeonghan’s side. 

The omega immediately closed his arms around the alpha’s side and released some calming pheromones. “No baby, you’re not a bad pack alpha. You and y/n have been around each other every second of every day since your injury, an argument was bound to happen eventually.” 

Seungcheol buried his head farther into Jeonghan’s chest. He cried a little longer before he softly uttered, “I made fun of her subgender.”

Jeonghan couldn’t hold back his surprise. This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol that defended y/n’s subgender to all their fans when it was released that she had joined their pack. This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol that immediately switched her new primary care physician when he told her that she, “shouldn’t worry about birth control since her alphas were probably too busy with their omegas anyways.” This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol who made everyone wear blockers when they first invited her to the den, because he knew that betas were more sensitive to scents. Finally the omega released a small, “what?”

The alpha sniffled again. “I told her that she didn’t understand my problems because she was a beta. I didn’t mean it Hannie. I feel so stupid. What even possessed me to say that?”

Seungcheol felt Jeonghan release his hold a little bit, so that he could rub circles into the small of his back. “I don’t know why you said it, baby. But I know you didn’t mean it. The rest of the pack knows you didn’t mean it. I’m sure she does too.”

Slowly, Seungcheol pulled his face away from his omega’s chest. Jeonghan’s heart broke at the sight of his pack alpha’s broken look. “Has she come back yet?”

Jeonghan rolled over a little to look out the open door of their room. “I don’t think so. Wonwoo went to pick her up from the cafe and walk her back home. They should be back soon, I hope.”

Seungcheol just nodded and went back to sulking in Jeonghan’s arms. The omega couldn’t help but release more calming pheromones and continue rubbing his alpha’s back. He knew Cheol couldn’t help it, but his distressed scent was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He wished it would go away soon. 

A few minutes later, they both perked up at the sound of the front door opening and subsequently closing. Shoes were tossed on the tray by the door and before they knew it, you were standing in the doorway. The alpha’s scent brightened a bit. You paused when you saw Jeonghan in the bed with your pack alpha. He just smiled at you and began to pry himself away from Seungcheol, who let out a pathetic whine. 

Despite the day’s earlier events, you couldn’t help but softly smile at Cheol’s “less alpha-like” tendencies. Yet another reminder that he didn’t mean the words that left his mouth a few hours before. Seungcheol was not someone who believed in stupid subgender stereotypes. 

Jeonghan made his way out of the room, but not without leaving a small kiss on your forehead and a brush of his nose on your scent gland. A subtle reminder that he was here if you needed him. You took a moment to ground yourself before making your way over to the bed. “You smell like shit.”

He laughed. “You smelled worse when I made that comment earlier. But yeah, I’m sure I reek. Hannie said the same thing when he first came in.”

You smiled. His sense of humor was still intact at least. You took the lighthearted moment to cuddle up next to him and rub your wrist against the gland on his neck. “I know you didn’t mean it, Cheolie.”

Seungcheol sighed in relief. He believed Jeonghan when the omega said he was sure you knew his harsh words didn’t have any real meaning behind them. But it was still nice to hear the words from you on your own. “It wasn’t very pack alpha of me though.”

He heard you sigh a little. “No one is perfect. No pack alpha is perfect. You’re a human being too. You need to treat yourself like one Choi Seungcheol.”

He nodded as your words sunk in. He knew the double meaning behind them before you explicitly stated it yourself. “That goes for work too. You need to stop pushing yourself to recover faster. It’s just going to hurt more later on. I know you just want to get back to doing what you love but you need to love yourself first.”

His beta knew just the thing to say to tug on his heartstrings, huh? For the umpteenth time that day, Seungcheol sniffled. “I love you y/n. I wouldn’t want anyone else as my pack beta.”

You replaced your wrist with your nose, scenting him as you happily sighed, “I love you too Cheolie. No other pack alpha could ever compare.”

[cece693]

Numb (Tony Stark x Gender Neutral! Reader)

Something that I had saved and forgot all about.

Summary: You didn't understand Tony's decision; he'd left you with a gaping hold in your heart. It was easy to feel anger and resentment, but was it really a surprise how things ended?

tags: slight comfort, post-endgame, Tony's dead, reader handles the loss, mourning, last words/message

You stood there, numb, as Tony's heart drifted farther down the lake, a small, fading dot on the horizon. The weight of what you had done pressed down on you, and without a word to anyone, you turned away, heading home. As you stepped into the house and climbed the stairs to your bedroom, everything appeared the same—yet it all felt different. The one piece that truly made this a home was now gone forever.

When Tony sacrificed himself, it was easy to be consumed by anger. How dare he leave you like this, sobbing and begging for him to return, all for the sake of Earth? After everything, after all the times they had wronged him, it was you—the one person who never turned their back on him—who was left behind. That anger still simmered beneath the surface, but now it had dulled into a numbness that spread through your entire being.

Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey had all tried to comfort you, offering words meant to soothe the unbearable loss. But their attempts only made it worse. They didn’t understand—they couldn’t. What they had lost was different from yours. Tony was your husband and he'd failed your wedding vows. Through sickness and health—the battle with Thanos had no place there.

All you wanted was to be alone, to sit with the emptiness that had taken root inside you, to feel it in its entirety without anyone trying to take it away. That emptiness, as hollow and painful as it was, felt like the last piece of Tony you had left.

Looking around, your vision blurred with unshed tears, taking in the sight of the room. It was a mess, but that was typical when living with Tony. The wardrobe door was flung open, shirts haphazardly hanging half in, half out. His favorite jacket was draped over a chair, and a pair of mismatched socks lay abandoned on the floor. It was like he had just stepped out for a moment, like he would walk back in any second with that roguish grin, asking if you’d seen his watch or where he left his keys.

Your eyes moved to the messy bed, and you couldn't help but collapse onto it. Bringing Tony's pillow to your nose, you inhaled deeply—taking in his familiar cologne and the faint scent of oil and metal that clung to everything he touched. As you lay there, your mind replaying happy memories, something caught your attention.

Hesitantly, you reached out and picked it up, your fingers trembling as you recognized the Stark tech design. With a deep breath, you activated it. A hologram flickered to life, and there he was—Tony, looking at you with that familiar blend of warmth and determination that only he could pull off.

"Hey, love." his voice was soft, almost soothing, but there was an undercurrent of sadness. "If you're seeing this, it means I'm gone. And I know you're angry, probably cursing my name right now. Believe me, I didn’t want to leave you. God, I wanted to stay more than anything."

He paused, as if searching for the right words. "But…you know me. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to save everyone. It’s who I am—who I've always been. I know that’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t make it hurt any less. But I need you to understand that I didn’t choose them over you. I chose all of us. I couldn't bear the thought of a world where you weren't safe."

Tony’s image flickered slightly, and you could see the pain in his eyes. "I hate that I hurt you. But you…you're stronger than you know. And I need you to keep going, to live your life, even without me in it. Because, in a way, I’m still here. I’m always with you."

He took a shaky breath, and his voice softened. "I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I will love you until the end of time. Forever, remember? That’s what we promised. And I’m keeping that promise, even now."

As the hologram continued, you could hear the faint background noise—a gentle clinking of dishes, the hum of a movie soundtrack. Your heart ached as you recognized the scene: it was the last day you spent together. The day you cooked dinner side by side, the laughter you shared, and the quiet intimacy of watching a movie on the couch.

Now everything made sense. Tony’s extra affection, his words of love, and the lingering touches—they were all part of his farewell. It was as if he had known he wouldn’t have another chance to show you how much you meant to him. The realization hit you like a wave. How long had Tony known his fate? How long had he been preparing to say goodbye, knowing he had to make every moment count?

As the hologram began to flicker and lose its stability, Tony’s image took on a more solemn, resigned expression. His voice softened even further, as if he were speaking directly to your heart.

“I have to go now. But remember this—no matter where I am, my love for you will never fade. It’s with you always, even in the darkest moments. If there's an afterlife, I'll be waiting for you.” The hologram shimmered one last time, and with a final, loving glance, Tony’s image faded into the darkness. Clutching the device to your chest, the tears that you have been holding back finally spilled over.

[lendeah]

Note: I just wrote this small scene because I feel like the original lacked the anger and emotion of your literal soulmate wanting to IMPLODE HIMSELF??? Anyway, here is my own version of it. Hope you enjoy it :)

Prompt: You convince Gale out of exploding himself to destroy the Elder Brain.

or

Your boyfriend is trying to k word himself for his toxic ex so you have to shake some sense into him.

Pairing: Gale x GN!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, minimal angst.

The warmth of Gale's embrace made you hesitate to move, as if any motion would shatter the moment. But as you stirred, the illusion of the starry sky from last night was quickly replaced by the harsh reality. The looming Moonrise Towers stretched towards the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the dark and cursed sky. You could feel Gale's chest rising and falling beneath your head, your bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs.

"Do you really have to do it?" you whispered, knowing that he had been awake for some time now. The heaviness in your voice betrayed the weight of this question - one that you already knew the answer to.

"It is what Mystra expects of me" he replied, his voice tinged with sorrow. Gale slowly untangled himself from your hold and sat up, his eyes scanning the horizon. You could see the conflict in his expression, but also a sense of duty and determination.

"We can always look for another way," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of sadness and longing.

"I know," he said softly, "but I have to make up for my wrongdoings. For the time being, I hope the end is much farther away than I had suspected, and that tonight meant as much to you as it did to me"

You wanted to argue, to convince him that you could face whatever lay ahead together, but deep down you knew that it wouldn't matter. At the very end, all you felt was a strong desire to be by his side and stand with him, no matter what choice he made, even at the cost of his and your own life.

"I will stand by your side no matter what," you declared solemnly.

A small smile tugged at Gale's lips before he leaned in "Thank you," he whispered, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. "I love you," he added, voice full of emotion.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you simply nodded and gave him a small smile. You just held to the hope that when the time came, sometime in the far future, he would reconsider.

The time, much to your dismay, came much before you expected. It turned out, the Absolute, which now you knew was an Elder Brain, was lying beneath Moonrise Towers all along.

"Well, shit," Astarion exclaimed as he surveyed the massive organ with its pulsing and writhing tentacles emerging from its base. "I did not see that coming."

"We need to make a plan," Shadowheart said firmly.

Lae'zel stood at the ready, her sword glistening in the dim light as she spoke. "We shall seek out a weakness, or create one ourselves."

Wyll nervously tightened his grip on his weapon. "A weakness? That beast appears impenetrable."

"Ketheric is our priority," Karlach declared, determination hardening her voice. "That fucker is going down for what he did to Nightsong and Isobel."

As the group discussed their options, you couldn't help but glance over at Gale, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. You had thought you were prepared for this moment, but now, as he stood before you, you realized you couldn't let him do it. The love you held for the wizard had rooted itself so deeply within your heart that the mere thought of losing him, or worse, watching him sacrifice himself, was unbearable. You knew that he was brave and selfless, but you couldn't let him go without a fight.

Gale stood a few meters behind the group, his eyes fixed on the towering brain before them.

"That Crown," he whispered, mostly to himself, "it radiates with power unlike anything I've ever seen." He took a step closer, his gaze never faltering. "To have it...to hold it...if only I could." He shook his head. "But I can't... this is it. I must do as Mystra commands."

You felt your breathing stop.

"Wait!" you scream, reaching for his arm. "Gale, you can't do this. You cannot condemn us all."

You could see the turmoil in Gale's eyes as he looked back at you. His hand hesitated, hovering over his chest before finally falling to his side.

Gale sighed heavily and shook his head. "what choice do I have?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with sadness. "More than just a goddess counts on my courage, the whole worlds hang in the balance."

"But what about our lives?" you argued, tears welling up in your eyes. "I know I promised to support you, but I can't stand and watch as you blow yourself up for an uncertain future. You deserve more than that, and I know there will be another way. And if not, at least we will die trying."

He looks divided, his face contorted in confusion.

"Mystra's mission is paramount," he insists, his voice trembling with determination. "I will not fail her."

You take a step closer and grip his face roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"Don't you see? Mystra has let you down countless times!" you roar, tears streaming down your face. "You owe her nothing. You owe no one anything, much less your own life. You deserve to live." Your body trembles with emotion as you try to break through his blind devotion.

Gale looks at you, his expression softening. "I...I can't abandon my duty," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But you also can't abandon us," you reply, your voice shaky. "We need you, Gale. I need you." You take a shuddering breath, your words pouring out in a rush of raw honesty. "And...I love you."

Gale's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. He opens his mouth to speak, but you press on, not wanting to give him a chance to object. "And if there is a possibility of a shared future next to you, I will fight for it until my very last breath."

Gale's expression softens even more, and he reaches up to cup your cheek with his hand.

"Fine," he says, determination in his eyes. "I trust you. We'll find another way."

You let out a sob of relief and wrapped your arms tightly around him, holding onto him as if he might disappear at any moment. "I should have told you sooner," you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. "But I was so afraid...afraid of losing you."

Gale closed his eyes and held onto you tightly, allowing himself to finally let go of the burden he had been carrying alone for so long. And in that moment, surrounded by chaos and uncertainty, everything feels right.

"I love you too," Gale whispered into your hair. "And I promise to fight for a future where we can be together."

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, a glimmer of hope shining through the tears. And without another word, Gale leans down and presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

As if on cue, the ground begins to shake violently as the brain continues its descent towards them. But this time, instead of feeling fear and desperation, you feel determination and hope burning within both of you. You have something worth fighting for.

[coffeemakerwriter]

The price and Gaz fic I’ve had in my docs for months is here finally 🫶

Word count: 1.3k

Angst/comfort

Tw: dissociation, panic attacks, SH mentions

Price x gaz (platonic? Romantic? Idk y’all decide )

“Sometimes I don’t feel real.”

Price paused, the pen coming to a stop against his paper, he lifted his head to face the sergeant at his door.

“What do you mean Garrick?”

“I don’t- it’s just..” Gaz wasn’t sure how to word this, how to explain that some days felt less real than others, that there’s days where he had to hurt himself to make sure he was real.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not…real? Like I’m dead or everything is fake. I don’t know.” Gaz scrunched up his nose, pursing his lips.

“Why don’t you sit down, Sargent?” Price suggested, moving his papers to the side, resting his arms on his desk, giving Gaz his full attention.

Gaz walked farther into the room and pulled the chair back from his desk, sitting into it slowly, unsure if he should really take the offer. Sitting with your superior and unloading your personal issues usually doesn’t end well. And if he’s going to be honest? Gaz isn’t too fond of letting his captain know he’s struggling.

Leaning back Price examined the boy, the way he hunched in on himself, an attempt to make himself smaller he’s sure, avoiding his gaze and instead focusing on picking at the skin around his nails, a habit the captain had noticed the man does far too often when he’s anxious.

“I'm not- I’m not real.” Gaz cringed, this fucking sucked. Why did he think this was a good idea?

“Course you are Sargent.”

“No. I don’t- you don’t get it. I fucking-,” he paused, taking in a shakey breath, he slumped down in his chair, crossing his arms.

“I don’t feel real. When I look in a mirror my face doesn’t feel like mine and sometimes I can feel my bones. I can fucking feel my bones captian. I can feel them in my skin. My skin is fucking crawling sir.”

Price made a hum of discontent, shifting in his seat he leaned closer, putting more of his body weight onto the desk.

Words were hard, that much was obvious when John tried to find them, and he couldn’t.

He opened his mouth, closing it once before he opened it again, “sergant..” he paused, “Kyle, you're not dead. You’re very much alive son.”

Gaz cringed at that, logically he knew he was real, knew there weren't bugs crawling in his skin, he knew logically his captain was right. But that doesn’t change the fact he didn’t believe him, or that he still felt that way.

He watched as Price stood from his seat, rounded his desk to face him before kneeling, his knees cracking and groaning as he did so, and he rested his hand on the man’s own knee, he looked at Kyle, his own face contorted in a face of either worry or concern maybe even pity if he really looked but either way he couldn’t tell, and he was scared what he’d find if he looked deeper.

“I know that, I just-” Gaz stopped, turning his head to avoid looking at his captian, instead focusing on the name plate on his desk, and maybe just maybe if he tried hard enough he could even melt it.

It felt like he was dissapointing his captain, that the fact he was struggling was a dissapointment to him, that the time and effort he put into him wasn’t worth it.

Price looked up at him, lines creased into his face, he ran soothing circles on the man’s knee with his thumb in an attempt to provide him with some sort of comfort, trying to think of what to say.

He thought for a moment, then two, then he sighed.

“Kyle, what's goin’ on with you son?”

Gaz shrunk in his seat, guilt sinking into the deepest part of his stomach, he didn’t like talking about this, he didn’t like talking about this at all. What made it worse? His captain never uses his name, and he’s already used it twice so far.

Has he mentioned how much he hated this?

Gaz swallowed, his throat felt clogged, “Told you, don’ know. Just- I don’t know.”

He feels like a failure. That much is for certain. That’s what he does know. He also knows that his captain is gonna discharge him, or that it’s gonna go on his file that he’s not well enough for active duty, or that he is going to tell laswell and then it’ll go up the chain and then-

He couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

Gaz inhaled, then exhaled, then inhaled again. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working?

Gaz sat up slowly, no longer sitting slouched, instead, he sat slightly bent over, his hands placed over his chest as he gasped for air, he furrowed his brows, slight panicked look crossing his features as he looked up at his captain.

Price shifted slightly, moving to grab his hands away from his chest, concern and worry etched into his face, “Garrick, easy son, what’s wrong?” He frowns, seeing the sergeant panic like this isn’t something he’s used to.

“M’ cant breathe, feels like I can’t breathe”

Gaz gasped unevenly, starting to hyperventilate, his breathing becoming more unstable, more panicked.

It felt like he was gonna die.

He didn’t want to die.

“Sargent, easy, you're alright, come here.”

He tugged Gaz out from the chair, pulling him onto the floor with him, putting his hand against his own chest, he took a deep exaggerated breath.

“Follow that yeah? Think you can do that?”

Kyle nodded, he took a deep and shaky breath, slightly rasping coming from his mouth as he breathed, his lungs were screaming for air at this point and his Price was starting to worry the poor boy would pass out on him.

Kyle leaned his back against the edge of the chair, the wood digging into his back, the slight jabbing helping ground him just a little, he closed his eyes, and if he concentrated enough, he could feel his captains heartbeat, the slow and steady thrum underneath his fingers doing well to soothe the restricted feeling in his lungs, doing well to ground him.

When he opened his eyes again he could see the pinched and worried expression on his captains face, and he huffed, his body felt exhausted, his legs were pressed into his captains in the small bit of space they were sat in between the desk and the chair that didn’t allow for too much comfort of two fully grown men.

“There we go son, deep breaths, you're alright now.”

When Kyle finally spoke, his voice came out slurred and heavy, the exhaustion clawing at his brain, “m’ sorry. Didn’t mean to-” he stopped, his brain felt fuzzy, it made it harder to form sentences that were coherent enough to make sense to the captain.

‘Your alright, yeah? Just a panic attack”

“M’ never had one before.”

“That’s okay. They can be pretty scary.”

“Mhm.”

He really didn’t have the strength to keep talking anymore, if anything, he really just wanted to curl up and go to sleep for the next eternity.

“Let’s get you out of this chair, get you onto the couch. How’s that sound?”

He nodded, watching as his captain stood and moved away from the space he was in, standing by his chair, hovering on the off chance he may fall.

He stood, his legs shook and they felt as if he’d been sitting on them for hours, he could feel his captains hand on his back, stabilizing as he moved away from the chair, being guided to the old leather couch in the corner, being laid down on it, curling up.

“Feel better?”

He made a noise of sorts, something between a hun and a groan to confirm.

He’d be quite content this being his eternal sleep if he was honest.

[xnchxntmxnt]

I've certainly got nightbringer brainrot as well. Here's my piece.

Satan is very clearly less in control of his anger and emotions in general, and even most of his brothers fear him at this point. Maybe he goes on a rampage, but this time the reader gets caught up in it somehow. Mc is hurt in the process after trying to help, and Satan comes to the harrowing realization that he was the cause.

Hm hm maybe some reverse comfort from reader? Satan that acts like a kicked puppy or perhaps he doubles down and makes things worse for himself.

Anyways I love nightbringer Satan! He doesn't seem the least bit threatening to me, it's very cute how angry he gets lol.

anon,,, ur patience is astronomical. plz do not hate me

I Will Never Let You Fall

Character: Satan (Obey Me)

Warnings: blood/injury mentions, brief description of a meltdown/anxiety attack. not proofread

Notes: i feel like the ending is a little rushed 😭😭 but I also wanted him to be soft. satan deserves to be held actually

Notes pt 2: also the song i got the title from is called "your guardian angel" (it's linked). ironic

gn reader

reblogs > likes

send an ask to join my taglist

He didn’t realize what he’d done until it was already over. 

No, it wasn’t terrible at first glance, but he was worried. Incredibly worried. Worried to the point that he even called for Asmodeus’s help, despite not getting along with any of his brothers. 

There he sat, in your room, watching over you as you slept. There were long, white bandages wrapped delicately along your arm and a small potion on your bedside table that would help you heal faster. 

He’d lashed out—he was overstimulated and frustrated, experiencing feelings he didn’t like and they overwhelmed him. You’d only come in to ask to borrow a book, but between the new sound of your voice and the footsteps he could hear from the hallway, then the music he could hear because his door was open, no doubt from Mammon’s room, he couldn’t focus on anything other than the noise. It was all bad noise. 

And you ended up hurt. 

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and he sat up a bit straighter. He wanted to make sure you were okay. As gently as possible, he held your face and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Are you awake?” he asked, prepared to dart out of the room to get anything you requested of him. 

The next thing he knew, you were smiling at him. Smiling. He didn’t deserve for you to look at him like that—he’d hurt you, and you were smiling at him like he’d just handed you roses. 

“Don’t-don’t do that,” he muttered, pulling his hand away from you and hanging his head. He stared at his lap, trying not to sound angry at you. He wasn’t angry at you, he was angry with himself. But that’s what got you here in the first place—his anger. Wrath. The stupid powers he’d gotten stuck with because of his brothers decisions-

“You look upset,” you said softly, placing your hand over his. “I’m not mad at you, Satan. Don’t beat yourself up. I know you can’t always…control your magic as well as you’d like to.”

“Not–not beat myself up? Are you–” he was about to start yelling, he could feel the tension and heat rising in his body. Instead, though, he tried to take a deep breath and relax. “I’m sorry. I’m trying–”

“I know you are. That’s why I’m not upset. I don’t think you get enough credit for how hard you try, actually.” You slowly shifted, sitting up a little farther and sliding closer to the wall. With that, you patted the bed next to you, signaling him to sit with you, so he did. 

He tensed immediately when you laid your head against his shoulder, but slowly relaxed into the soft touch. He didn’t deserve all this, but you were willing to show how much you cared about him. 

Usually, when he felt hot, it was anger. But he couldn’t stop the heat from rising in his cheeks when you took his hand as well. Such a small action had a whirlwind of feelings going through his mind. However, he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, he sat there in silence, allowing you to slowly fall in and out of sleep on his arm. It was the first moment of peace he’d felt since arriving in the Devildom. 

taglist

@grays321 @dear-koi @dilfzuku @poeberlyavenue

[ramblebramblefun]

"Parallel processing!" Deku chirps. He proceeds to blather on at the reporter until Bakugou slaps a hand over his mouth and drolly condenses it down.

"He figured some shit out the last time we worked under Endeavour, and he's hopin' to do it again."

"And what about you?" The reporter asks.

Bakugou Katsuki sneers.

"That old man can't teach me shit."

Then why, Enji wonders, are you here?

The impromptu interrogation only gets worse from there, until Deku steps in, gently stealing the reporter's microphone and pretending to interview Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight himself.

Bakugou has a little more patience for Midoriya than for the general population, but Midoriya soon says something that makes Bakugou shout, lunging for the 'little shit' and causing the green-haired boy to duck behind Shouto with a grin.

Bakugou does not immediately shove Shouto out of the way, which says a lot about how much he respects Enji's son if you know him well.

Enji has been obliged to know Bakugou Katsuki a lot more than he cares for.

The boy is the most irritating person in all of creation. However, in the past, if you had taken Shouto off the table and asked Endeavour to, objectively, choose the child most like himself, Bakugou Katsuki is, reluctantly, the one he would have chosen.

Enji knows better, now.

Midoriya Izuku hides it well behind his smile, but the boy is driven by a wrath equal to Endeavour at his worst.

All Might does not understand how badly it could have turned out. Nor, Enji believes, does he truly appreciate how lucky they are that Bakugou Katsuki was able to be salvaged. That the boy saved All Might’s life is irrelevant; it’s what would have happened when the battle was over and Midoriya was forced to face a world without his ‘Kacchan’ in it.

A world in which in he had failed to save everyone.

Deku, like Endeavour, is driven by a singular furious ambition. That he believes that he wants to save everyone for everyone, well...

Well. Enji's self-delusions were never half so grand, but in the end...

In the end, all is well. Bakugou Katsuki got back up, Deku came down on Shigaraki like the wrath of God, society was saved, and Endeavour is still granted the title of 'hero' by the public.

Endeavour is still granted the title of hero by the public. Todoroki Enji has faced no true punishment for the things he did to his sons... And his daughter...

It's hard to tell, sometimes, with Fuyumi. She has always put on a smile for him, and in the past Enji had not cared enough to look further into how she might be feeling. Or listen, on the rare occasion that Fuyumi dared to open her mouth, to how he was hurting them.

He should... apologise to her as well.

Natsuo meanwhile has gone no contact, as is his prerogative, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. Enji would have liked to meet the young woman who had caught his eye, and just generally…

Well. Natsuo is still speaking to Rei, so he isn’t totally devoid of the parental support long owed him, and Rei is kind enough to let Enji know that their son is doing well.

…

Enji has never deserved that woman. He should have let her be from the start, should never have dragged anyone else into his obsession, should have simply been a better man, but it’s not like he has a time machine.

It’s just another reason that he must live his life in atonement. He will draw the heat, he will draw the fire and, God willing, his family will be able to live in peace.

Away from him.

------

There’s one more member of the mess that Enji made, and he is farther now from Enji’s reach than all the rest.

Todoroki Touya, Dabi, the flame villain, succumbed to his injuries six months after the total defeat of the League of Villains.

It was much longer than any of the doctors had predicted. Enji did not find it within himself to be surprised. All of his children had inherited his stubbornness in one form or another.

At least this time they all got to say a proper goodbye, not that Touya had seemed to appreciate it. He’d spat insults at them and swore to come back to haunt them as Dabi once again.

But this time there was no Garaki and his cursed miracles. Todoroki Touya was turned to ash for the final time.

Enji still visits him regularly, as he’d promised, and thinks of how things could have been.

------

When Enji shakes himself off and glances over, Bakugou and Shouto are still engaged in a standoff and the reporter is taking advantage of the stillness to try and get their microphone back from Midoriya.

Midoriya, without looking like he's doing it on purpose, shifts the microphone to his other hand and leans over to Shouto's other side.

Enji has been obliged to know Midoriya far too well as well. Somehow this particular reporter has pissed the boy off, likely when they were questioning Bakugou earlier.

Midoriya is quietly, obsessively, over-protective of the lauded Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, final defeater of All for One.

The reporter is not going to get their microphone back.

It doesn't matter. Endeavour can afford ten thousand microphones, if need be, and there are worse ways to show your displeasure. So long as the boy doesn't make a habit of it, it's barely Enji's problem.

It's time to wrap this up.

"Shouto." He calls.

His son doesn't look away from where he is staring blandly into Bakugou's eyes. That's... Fine. Enji's lucky that he wanted to do his work study with him in the first place.

"Deku! Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!"

Bakugou doesn’t offer him so much as a side-eye. Midoriya is the only one to make it look like he's giving Endeavour his attention, but he is almost certainly paying more mind to the reporter's repeated attempts to snatch back their microphone.

"We need to complete our patrols. Thank everyone for their time and follow me."

Midoriya gives the reporter and their cameraman a signature Deku smile. He speaks into the microphone before holding it out to Shouto and Bakugou in turn.

Bakugou reacts like he's been handed a live rat. Someone will need to beat interview protocols into his head before he graduates, but it's not something Enji has ever particularly cared for either. It can be UA's job. It should be UA's job.

…

Enji resigns himself to an unpleasant attempt at conversation with the boy later, and turns to fire away. There's a boom and a crackle and a hiss behind him.

It’s time to go.

[softcrow]

finding a family

p.1/?, hurt/comfort. call of duty agere. cg!price regressor!ghost

cw: ghost doesn't know he's regressing, vauge allusions to past abuse

ghost isn't sure how long he'd been curled in the corner of his room.

he remembered getting off transport and into debrief with price. he doesn't know what he said or how he found himself back in his room but he's here now.

its quiet which helps soothe his ragged mind but it's too dark. ghost hadn't turned in the light when he came in, the sun was still out he remembers that much, but now that an unknown amount of time has passed the room is near pitch black and everything feels like its farther away then it should be.

he wants to turn on his lamp but the desk across the room is so far and all he can think of is what might be hiding in the shadows. ghost knows how people can hide in low light, he's done it himself countless times and despite how hard he tries to burry them, memories of having it used against him linger in his mind

making everything worse is his gear, once he realized he was still in it he'd tried to get it off but his hands won't work properly which ended with him so tangled up and frustrated he stopped before the tears he felt bubbling up could fall

unfortunately now its digging into simon's body and the restriction makes old memories crawl up through the fog clouding his mind, causing his hands to shake and threatening to send his heart racing.

at some point he'd started quietly rocking back and forth as he sat. he's not sure why but it makes him feel a bit better, simon's still scared and uncomfortable but its a little less unbearable as he quietly rocks back and forth.

the motion tickles a memory, one he can't quite grasp but one that gives him the impression of a soft voice and feeling of safety and content. he needs that right now and so he keeps rocking, grasping the fleeting edges of that memory in hopes it will keep his past from overwhelming him

there's a noise but simon can't bring himself to look up. everything is so much right now and he thinks maybe if he stays quiet enough whatever it is will leave him alone. alone is the safest, people can't hurt him when no one is there

the air shifts and he's aware of someone in front of him and panic surges through him for a moment before he catches the familiar smell of cigars and gun oil and registers its price.

it takes some time for him to understand that price is speaking, everything sounds so far away and distorted, like he's sunk to the bottom of a pool. after a moment simon realizes that price is asking if he can touch simon.

simon could cry, he wants that so badly but whenever he tries saying the words he can't get his mouth to move. thankfully price seems to see the frustration growing on his face and he lets out a gentle hum to get simon's attention.

"words are hard right now aren't they?" simon pauses rocking just enough that his nod to price will be clear.

price gently holds out a hand, palm up "lad if you're okay with touch right now, could you grab my hand? you don't have to say anything else or stop moving"

simon moves even before price has finished speaking, clumsily launching himself into the man's arms, just about knocking them both to the floor in the processes. price thankfully is able to catch them both and his arms come around simon as he shifts them onto the bed with simon tucked into his arms and across his lap.

"oh lad..." price sighs as he carefully rocks simon. there's something in his voice simon can't place but he's so tired and he feels so safe for the first time he can remember so he ingores it to burrow farther into price's arms and then lets himself drift.

[moonshynecybin]

context here and here... short fic (~1k words) about reporter au marc, turning over what their sepang could be... unspeakably divorced vibes to this one...

Marc lays the recorder down in front of Valentino. He starts, carefully neutral:

“So. You were a little bit shaky on the braking this weekend, was there any specific reason? It looked like you were having trouble with grip?”

Vale crosses his arms, narrow posture folding.

“Marc.” He counters. Face serious.

Marc ignores him. Ignores the tornado shredding his stomach. He scribbles something in his notebook, mindlessly underlining a question he doesn’t even want to ask. He’s been trying to keep it more professional, after the last few weeks. After—

“Do you need me to repeat the question?” He says.

Vale doesn’t give an inch. “Why did you write that article?”

So he did see it. Marc flicks his eyes up from his notebook, quick. Vale’s eyes bore into him. unerring. Feline.

He shrugs a little. Sucks on his teeth.

“Did you have a problem with it?” He shouldn’t, really. Wouldn’t if it were anyone else. Marc’s just doing his job, he won’t compromise that for anyone. Journalism isn't about making people happy.

“No.” Vale says, and Marc’s asked him enough questions at this point to know what he looks like when he lies.

He fingers the end of Marc’s recorder. Long hands against shitty plastic. He switches it off.

“You didn’t tell me this was going to be off the record.” Marc says mildly, like he’s joking. He doesn’t know what Vale wants from this— apparently not an interview—and judging by the expression dragging at the corners of his face, the chances of Vale indulging the small part of Marc scaffolded on hope are slim. In fact, a picture is starting to form, uneasy and edgy, lighting the barely-dormant spark of hurt in his gut.

He can’t be serious.

Vale laughs, brittle and hard.

“So you don’t regret it?”

He is serious.

Marc puts his pen down as something in him clenches, sick and determined. Vale can’t— he shouldn’t get to do this, after the last few weeks. shouldn’t get to be mad at him for the sort of article that he wouldn’t care about if anyone else had written it. Not after how he's ignored Marc, skipping over him in press scrums. After how he implied Marc was overstepping, too familiar. Not professional. After how Marc— after they—

After.

Marc feels like an idiot. Whatever. His piece is still good, his writing stands on its own. It asks valid questions, makes the correct comparisons, and gives Jorge Lorenzo a few hard-earned compliments. It's an incisive article. Interesting. Impersonal. Entirely professional.

Just like Vale wanted.

“Why would I?”

Vale keeps studying him, and Marc thinks a muscle jumps in his jaw. He meets him head on, intense. That same chemistry that they’ve been building for the last few seasons turned sour now, crackling like a live wire. Vale’s eyes drop to Marc’s mouth, then back to his eyes. His expression sets.

Marc sees him arrive at some sort of conclusion.

It can’t be just about the article— others have said worse, gone farther. Marc was careful to stay in bounds, tame and even normal compared to some of the other journos in the paddock. No remarks about his personality or his age. Just a few observations about how Jorge is steadily gaining in the standings, and how Vale is slowly losing the lead he’s had all season. The facts, as Marc sees them. Objective.

But Marc has also never written anything like that before. Has built a name for himself on complex opinions and strategic analysis. On the experience he has as a former racer, and as someone who was supposed to be on the other side of the recorder— supposed to be answering questions instead of asking them. On interviews strengthened by the easy, genuine relationship he has with Valentino Rossi.

But it’s not like he can exactly rely on that last one anymore.

Vale tilts his head forward, eyebrows up. A wry little expression plays across his face, there for a flash, before he shakes his head and pushes back his chair.

“Eh, I guess you are right.” Vale stands, nods. He leans over the table and waves a hand in the air, face animated. Cheerful, if you don’t know him. Studied nonchalance. “Why would you? It’s your job.”

He says the last bit like it means something, extra emphasis on each syllable.

“It is my job.” Marc agrees.

“Right.” Vale says, after a moment, tension threading through them both, taught as a bow string.

He says it like it’s final. Like it’s the end of something. It's exactly the same tone of voice he used a few weeks ago in Phillip Island, when Marc had stumbled out of the cold bed in his crappy hotel room and saw Vale fully dressed, looking for his wallet. About to leave. His head had whipped up when he saw Marc awake, and the look on his face was crystal clear. Had made Marc abruptly feel like he was about to vomit, cold rising from his toes as Vale started to speak.

Too young. Too close. Too unprofessional.

Right.

“Right.” Vale says again now, confirming whatever he sees in Marc’s face, blue eyes clear and remote. The hinge of his jaw is wound tight, day-old stubble blurring his sideburns.

Marc’s chest throbs.

He doesn’t say anything, lets the silence fill the room until it’s about to burst.

Vale stares at him a minute longer before he turns and leaves, door swinging behind him.

Marc sits there, staring at his notebook for a long time.

He doesn’t end up writing anything.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any underfell sans x reader filled with angst fics??!!?!!

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Not the best way to go about Life by Llama_Goddess (Explicit, Complete)

Monsters have been freed from the underground, and honestly, you don't really think they should have. You wouldn't consider yourself 'racist', you just fear for your own safety when murderers wander the streets and move in next door. So spilling coffee all over a very large and intimidating skeleton monster was probably not your best move ever. But instead of gutting you, he offers to buy you another coffee. And, despite his... 'crude' language, he seems to be a nice guy. Maybe monsters aren't so bad after all? But why do the monsters who used to pay you no mind now cast you pitying looks and avoid you all together?

Secretly Yours by Melda_Burke (Explicit, Incomplete)

Red gets you as a roommate for his wallet's convenience and ends up liking you a bit too much. One day, you're late coming home from work, so he decides to search your room for clues as to why. What he finds catapults you both into an awkward, tsundere dance around emotions.

Masquerade by TeaLeafe (Explicit, Incomplete)

You have never felt as pathetic or unneeded as you do now. You look at them from afar, seeing her beautiful figure on his arm as if she belonged there. Grin and bear. Force a mask of happiness for them, even if it hurts and couldn't be farther from your true feelings. ‘Smile. Laugh.’ Try not to think about the fact that he isn’t yours. Don't show how broken you are inside. A month passes and you hadn't realized until now, that you aren’t the only one who has been affected with this new dilemma. You see him there, miserable and defeated, just like you. For the same reasons. Mirrored broken hearts falling onto one another for comfort only the other can give, because you both know exactly how the other feels.

A cigarette at a time by Bubbleteasing (Explicit, Complete)

Even though monsters were already part of human society, you didn't really know how to react when you found your dog attacking a random monster in the street. Mortified, you got yourself promising him you would do him a favour in exchange of ignoring what just happened. Things get worse when you realize he also works at the same building as you. Do you like angst? This is your fic. Don't worry, you'll laugh too.

Big Cats Like Bones Too by Kertneyk (Mature, Incomplete)

You are a cop stuck in a large city that is suddenly half-populated with monsters. This brings you all sorts of trouble as monsters and humans learn to cooperate with each other. You receive push back from all sides; monsters, humans and other cops as you try to find a just solution to problems that arise in your district. Sometimes this leads to violence, but that's ok. You were never one to run from a fight, and being a were-leopard means you are made of sterner stuff than most. But just because you can turn into a big cat, doesn't mean you should. And you are not really keen on letting your new skeletal roommate or his brother find out about your more animalistic side. Even if one of them really loves cats... and the other is practically a cat himself. This is a paranormal cop drama meets K-drama romance sitcom. There will be fights, there will be laughs, and there will be friendships built that cross the divide between the different species.

[hyperfixation-symposium]

I'm a q!Bad defender to my soul, and I want to talk about why I am frustrated with a lot of the (characters) responses to his current lore!!!

I am not talking about the cc!s only the characters!! I don't think anyone intentionally broke into his lore or broken anything lorewise this is just about the characters!

Bad has been on a downwards spiral for a while now, and it has been clear to everyone in his life. However, so few people have acted in this need to help him, and now, they seem shocked that he didn't get better! And that he got worse!

Instead of channeling anything into helping him, they're only pushing him farther away.

When the vacation arc started, it didn't seem to take long for people to realize it was less of a vacation and more a way to excuse his more unhealthy behaviors he was indulging in. However, instead of reaching out, the people in his life told him he needed help, but didn't offer any. They told him he should take a break, but still pushed their responsibilities and expectations on him.

They watched as he got worse, all insisting it was fine with a smile on. But you know who knew, who understood, who tried to do the most for him?

The eggs.

Bad's kids, as well as the other eggs, love their tio Bad. Tio Bad visiting is like Christmas, but for the best armour and supplies. Tio Bad visiting is comfort and dedication, it's safety.

The eggs knew the most about how much he was suffering, and took the most action to help. Because they could tell he wouldn't push anyone to act for him. They were grounding but also incredibly supportive.

Bad could argue about politics with Forever, he could fight and get no credit, he could leave gifts unrecognized and never repaid, all was okay if he had his kids.

Then the furniture gets stolen.

Everyone was quick to jump on him. In a moment all the work he had ever done didn't seem to matter. He was imprisoned unfairly, questioned, hell the way he ran from the place you could tell it bothered him. And he only got 1 apology from Cellbit for that damned day.

It seemed as if everything he did disappeared into the background of Bad taking a (frankly, easy to get) resource. It wasn't right of him to do, but all the sudden he was evil for it. He didn't even do it this time.

If there was one easy thing to push his mistrust of others over the edge, it was that. But it was okay, because he still had his family.

And then the eggs disappeared.

Bad was already low. He had dealt with everything Dapper was hiding from him, Pomme admitting she wasn't well either, but they could get through it together. Family.

And then they were gone. Without a trace, without an indication of where they might have gone.

And everyone goes a bit insane. Forever, one of Bad's closest and most trusted friends, ends up on Cucurucho meds, and then in a coma. While trying to help him, trying to keep the other parents spirits up, no one is doing the same for him. He's alone in his house, talking to a statue of his best friend. Never so far away.

And then finally, when everything is falling apart, he accepts who he is. A demon, an ancient creature capable of terrible things, and a father. A father who will do anything for his children.

Including hurting an innocent.

And now, as people are finding out about this, they're getting upset at him. How could he, reach such a low! But they're not recognizing that they never helped him. They never refused to let him go until he got proper help, hell, the room Forever made for him was so so late in Bad's cry for help. Which is not to minimize it, hell, Bad himself said it was the first time in a long time that it felt like everything was going to be okay. It was the first time he didn't antagonize Ron openly, even gave him gifts. And I feel like that's a show of just how much Bad needed someone, anyone, to be the person he was for them to him.

And now he could loose all of that again.

It all feels like it was doomed to fall. When a person who gives others their everything never gets anything in return, what happens when they run out of things to give? When everything they worked for is gone?

Maybe move away. Where no one can find you. Take whatever is left and go.

Bad's family is shattered. Bad is shattered.

And while I don't blame anyone for being upset at him, I wish it was recognized how much they didn't help him before, how much effort they put towards their own things disregarding him in a way he never did them.

The one major expection?

q!Foolish.

In this essay I will shot for talking too much

Anyways. No proof reading we die like Juanaflippa! Ofc this is all roleplay and Bad's cries for help could be put off or overlooked for many reasons and I don't blame the CC!s for anything I love all the characters. Back to real life I go

[mushroomwoods]

One Year, Eleven Months and Twenty Days…

When Hyrule set off into yet another unfortunate journey, he didn't expect a sudden, skittish and nosy you to throw yourself into his life, much less for you to hang around him long enough for him to get attached. He believed he didn't need any company for as long as he lived as the hero, however as you proved him wrong, he started to fear for the possible time limit he could to have around you.

character — Hyrule, romantic.

cw — angst, hurt/comfort, mention of battles/injuries, paranoid behavior, self-blame.

I don't know why I'm starting a long fic, but rulie brainrot took over me, so here we have it. Chapters may not be as regular as I'd like, but I already have the general outline and can say it will be from something in between three to five chapters, so... Yeah, I hope you guys will like it!

Chapter 1 — Of a lonely hero and a daring traveler

Two minutes.

It took him less than that to notice that you were injured upon your first encounter, even when you tried to batantly hide the fact with a few poorly timed jokes. He inspected your form from a distance he deemed safe enough, unconvinced by your clear act of amicability towards him. You were just a traveller, just as himself, he happened to stumble upon while running away from yet another village, a very nosy traveller who took upon yourself to help him, the Hero of Hyrule himself, because of his seemingly weak state — he was just a tad tired from the long run, nothing less than usual for him —, while not noticing how poor your own state was, bandage around your upper arm bleeding through your coat.

You were quick to make yourself comfortable on his presence as the two of you had been making way towards the same destination, "Two are way better than one when travelling" you said and while he'd much rather disagree, he didn't do much more than offer a curt nod, accepting of you for as long as you didn't make the first move for a fight.

Fifteen hours.

Was the time before the first nightwatch, the forest far too dark for anymore walking to be productive. You tried to keep watch first, however he disagreed — far too paranoid to let himself be vulnerable on another's presence —, winning the heating discussion with his stubbornness alone. You went to sleep clearly disheartened — you'd take that as your chance to attack, he was sure.

When you woke up to take your turn he didn't offer much complaint, much to your surprise, and went to lay beside a fallen tree, back pressed tightly into it, too afraid to let his back exposed to any lurking enemies.

He did not sleep however, no, of course not. That would be a stupid move when he wasn't clear of your intentions yet, he was sure you were hiding your claws yet, ready to pounce whenever he was the most vulnerable, unable to fight back.

Surprisingly, the night ended peacefully, you dealt with a lurking wolf and even hunt down for breakfast, but made no moves towards his seemingly sleeping form, no glances, no traps, no poisons, nothing.

Three days.

Before the tiredness started catching up to him.

He hadn't slept for the few days your accompanied him, his body slowing down and his reaction time getting worse by the day. If you noticed his state, you made no comments on it, he could see, however, how his workload seemed to decrease slowly, you started walking more slowly saying your injured leg seemed to get worse — a light strain he was sure he had cured the night before as you slept —, you started checking the surroundings before the both of you walked into the next area and started carrying most of the weight around.

The next time he woke up, it must've been at least a days later, his head resting upon your now clean coat, as you sat farther into the clearing, beside a waterbody apparently cleaning down your sword and refilling the water flasks. He could feel the weight of one of your spare hoods on his head, along with a fresh smelling bandage who was poorly wrapped around his head, from this alone he could guess you didn't attempt to take a closer look at his face, which he was minimally grateful for.

In his usual state he'd make sure to go against your action, but in all his tiredness he couldn't bother himself to care enough for it.

It was only a matter of time before he fell down, the workload too much for his system to process. His vision blackening and mind wandering before he could even make contact with the ground.

As much as he wanted to depart soon towards the next city for a restock, your battered state made him hold his tongue. Your sunken eyes were enough of a tell of how much you took care of him in the time he was off. After that he made sure to sleep at least enough during the nights to come so the journey wouldn't be anymore delayed.

Two weeks.

The young boy couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the thought that this money wasn't just yours, but his too. When he tried shaking his hand in disagreement however, he could already see the frown starting to form on your face, stopping before another argument could start, not noticing how lately he seemed to cave in to any of your pleas.

You had reached the first city and he could finally bid you goodbye.

Or so he thought, before you were pulling him through the market, selling off any pelt, spare meat and any shiny object you got your hands on during the short time, the loot he found annoying you took everywhere soon making a hefty amount of rupees he didn't think of before. The most off-putting part of it however was how you naturally turned to him, showing the bag of money to him, while saying " We made so much money this time, all thanks to you" with a big grin.

One thing he could notice that day, was how you were just as awkward as him when it came to human interaction. The moment one of the innkeeper around your age tried asking about your relationship with him, clearly showing a romantic interest in you, you brushed it off with a laugh, running up to your shared room without even looking back, avoiding the attendant eyes for the whole time you spent around there. It was also the first time you had the pleasure to hear him laugh freely, as he made fun of your situation when you talked late into the night.

Two weeks and two days.

The day the both of you departed from the small city, rupee bag noticeably lighter and equipment way more polished, his arrows switched for more durable ones and his sword sharpened — the smith gave him a side glance, however your chattering stopped the man from making him any questions about the unusual blade.

He gave in to the idea that you might accompany him to wherever he was going for as long as he got your attention, also accepting that you were more useful than he thought at first, as you seemed to distract any possible threats by simply existing. He wasn't sure if it was your charisma or if you made other too afraid to question the both of you, but it still made the last two days he spent around other hylians much calmer than he could ever remember being since he finished his journey as the hero of this land, anytime someone as much as made a move to question him about the hood covering his face you started bombarding them with questions about their wares or glared them into silence, getting a pretty big discount as consequence.

It was uneventful enough as your chattered away, sharing with the boy any information and rumor you got from the locals, the few moblins that were found wandering around in strange patterns, the criminals getting more and more aggressive over the last few days and, of course, the newest cuisine that was created in the next town. The last bit you had gotten from a young postman who had to stay for little longer on the last city he visited, as the monsters attacked and everyone had to retreat to safety.

The thought that it may be his fault made him uncomfortable.

Three weeks and four day.

You were getting closer and closer to a dungeon the both of you wanted to explore, for different reasons, but still.

A certain merchant had talked relentlessly about how he could hear Pols Voices getting louder and louder inside a dungeon over the last few days. You didn't seem too keen on helping out until the man said something about a plentiful reward, but still, you waited so the boy could make the final decision. He agreed more out of familiarity than anything, too used to helping others to say no.

It had been some time since he had fought Pols Voices, and he had forgotten how much they strained his throat, but it was enough of a laugh when you prepared to make the first move and he beat you to it, screaming louder than you had ever seen anyone do in you life. Your eyes went wide, as you could do nothing but watch the ghostly monsters dying before they could even approach any of you in the large room.

"How can your voice be so loud when you're so quiet?" You questioned as soon as you got out of the dungeon, still stuffing the spoils into your bag, and he shrugged in answer, to which you pouted.

Upon seeing the merchant waiting for the both of you a little farther on the road, you didn't think before running up to the man, failing to notice the few other shadows that surrounded his figure. A trap.

Fortunately you were quick enough to act when you noticed what was happening, your hands curling around your fellow traveler's own as you fled with a single cut brushing against your neck.

It could've been worse.

Three weeks and five days.

You believed you were already far enough from your chasers.

You were sweating buckets, blood dried over your whole clothes, probably beyond salvation at this point. The boy beside you was unscratched fortunately, and even when he offered to help heal your injury, you denied adamantly. He could do nothing but watch as you clumsily cleaned and bandaged the cut with yet another herbal mixture, probably the same mixture you had used on him before and worked wonder on his body.

The two of you continued your path without your chirpy voice this time, only the few warnings you gave him the few times he tried to eat or feed you something clearly not edible, upon your standards at least.

Your eyes were peeled open ever since that day, barely sleeping at night and the thought that it might've been his fault plagued him yet again that night.

Four weeks and a day.

He should've noticed the signs sooner.

That night you came up with a ferver. Or actually, since the last confrontation you weren't getting any better from your injury.

He saw how restless you were during the nights, tossing and turning with quiet whimpers of pain, however he made the decision to not cure you from your ails, following your wishes.

How stupid he was.

A hero who couldn't offer his help. A hero who was too afraid to even say his own name. A hero who brought more problems than solutions.

Could he even call himself a hero?

That night he was even more scared than the first time he had someone after his head, he couldn't even begin to understand why the thought of never hearing any of your terrible jokes or see any of your stupid life choices made him so restless, however he just understood that if you were like this because of him, the least he could was curing you before parting ways. It'd be for the better.

His powers didn't work.

A month and two days.

It had been five days and you hadn't woken up. Your ferver was still high as he followed the path, your form slumped over his shoulder.

The first day he cried for hours when he noticed that his powers weren't working, but he knew that the longer he spent on the same spot, the easier it'd be for his enemies to find him.

He was quick to change gears and continue his path, even when his mind ran miles a second, he shouldn't let you get hurt again, he should protect you for being the one who put you through such troubles.

It was hard, and his mind wandered sometimes to the first week he spent by your side, how even with his clear distrust, you took care of him, yet never made any complaints when he fell or made any mistakes, covering everything with an easy smile and a wave of the hand.

It was late at night when you first made any sound that wasn't akin to the sharp pain you were feeling, a low "traveler" falling from your lips, before you coughed because of your dry throat.

When he heard the title you used to call him he was quick to drop anything he was doing, running to your side — just now he noticed he had never told you his name.

You tried to laugh at his desperation as he offered you the flask of water, asking if the layers were too cold or too hot, already rummaging through his bag for anything that might help you now that you were awake, but the moment you noticed the tears falling down his hood and into his shaking hands, you shut your mouth, just taking the bottle and gulping down the liquid without a word.

The both of you sat in silence for a few minutes — he wished you'd stay laying down, but you insisted you were healthy enough to sit at least —, but you sighed when he seemed too lost to even make the first move.

"I was poisoned" He flinched. "Fortunately it was nothing fatal, but the side effects can last a few days… or weeks, I already have experience with these things, so it's not like I'll die from something like that."

He felt himself wanting to cry again when he saw that easy smile of yours, the one you always offered when you knew he was a little down, and somehow you always were right.

The hood that covered his face finally fell as he tugged into it, revealing his chestnut hair, curling until right under his pointy ears, much unlike your own, his eyes had a similar color with a forest green undertone that seemed to drawn you in, even when it was bloodshot from his previous crying, his skin glowing under the moonlight, reminding of the tales you often heard during your childhood about the Great Fairy.

He opened his mouth after a few seconds of a heavy silence.

"My name is Link..." He gulped, eyes descending to his fidgeting hands, too nervous to meet your clearly awed gaze as he wondered if it was the right choice, if you'd recognize him and go after his life just like the others. "I'd like to continue travelling with you… Even after we complete this journey."

You stayed silent for a long time, enough so he would look up to you again seeing the warm, real smile you wore.

"Of course! I'd love to, Link!"