#i hope this isn’t lost on whoever comes across this lmao

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➶ WHAT MAKES THE MHA BOYS BREAK (PT. 2)

pairings: mirio togata, tenya iida, katsuki bakugo, aizawa shota, tomura shigaraki, dabi, hawks, mashirao ojiro, tamaki amajiki

warnings: hinting anxiety/anxiety attacks, reverse comfort, also tamaki’s made me cry so have fun lmao 

part one with mezo shoji, tokoyami fumikage, hanta sero, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou here!

WHEN YOU COMFORT THEM THE MOMENT THEY BREAK DOWN: MIRIO TOGATA, TENYA IIDA, KATSUKI BAKUGO

MIRIO TOGATA

there was no way that mirio was completely fine after everything that had happened to him

he had lost his quirk, experienced a battle that could result in permanent trauma, and he lost nighteye-- the leader and hero that he had looked up to for so long

but when you told him that it was okay to be strong all the time, mirio had broken

he broke for the first time in what felt like years

“don’t worry a-ahbout me!” 

the saddest part about it?

he was smiling through his tears not even a few moments after his grin broke

his lips were trembling, his eyes were red and his entire body was shaking with suppressed sobs, but he had an unwavering smile.

and that... that was heartwrenching to look at.

his smile fell, his body trembled and he let out a strangled sobbut for some reason, this-- none of it had shown a single trace of weakness. it was a way of him to express very human emotions and reactions as everyone else could.

he wasn’t disappointing nighteye in anyway-- more of showing respect by letting it all out to be able to show genuine smiles in public

how come such human emotions were labeled as good or bad?

“i let him down,” mirio gasped, “i let him down, i hurt him, i could have saved him, and-”

“hey, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. it’s just me baby, it’s just me,” you cooed as you wrapped your arms around him. “shhh, it’s just me. you’re okay.”

mirio’s hands trembled as he gripped tight onto you

his chest was getting tighter as he burst into struggled breaths. he was just so... tired.

a million thoughts zipped through his head at once, but he just had to calm the storm for a while in your arms

TENYA IIDA 

it was right after the accident in hosu city, and everything, everything had gone wrong

even though he didn’t show it at first, he felt used as an advertisement for hatsume, and then losing in a battle with todoroki and felt like he was thriving on dumb luck

he just wanted to make his brother proud, that was-

-if he could, anymore. 

he felt so weak for letting himself feel this way, his head racing and chest heaving as he struggled to breathe

letting your guard down will just make things worse. tensei wouldn’t want this.

tenya’s body visibly trembled as he let out a shaky breath in his dorm room, thinking everything over in the darkness

“iida?” you asked, knocking on the door.

immediately, his demeanor changed as he shifted over to a braver face. 

“hello, y/n!”

just breathe. they’ll be gone sooner or later. breathe.

“why are you up this late at night?” he asked.

“i was just checking in on you, but i should be asking you the same question, sonic boy,” you grinned, until you noticed his hands trembling.

and for some reason, that hurt you. his face was.. so put together with a brave smile, confident eyes, and his head held up high and posture straight and firm

but when you saw his hands trembling and an odd shifting in his chest, you knew something was up

“are you okay?” you tested the words. 

tenya tried. he tried so, so hard to smile and affirm with a confident, “yes!”

but he couldn’t.

“i-i’m not- i’m not sure-,” his voice broke into a whisper. 

“i don’t know.”

you melted into a hug next to him as you took a seat. “hey, you can tell me anything, okay? it’s okay not to have your guard up all the time, it’s not weak to show emotion. just- if you want, can you tell me what’s been going on?”

tenya took a shaky breath and pushed up his glasses. “of course, thank you for asking, i will.”

KATSUKI BAKUGO

after his fight with deku, all of the willpower left in him to hold himself together disappeared 

katsuki had been exhausted after a long day of fighting, not just physically, but emotionally

he had tried to keep his head high for as long as he could, but the moment he went to his dorm room, he just... broke.

angry tears released and he choked out heavy, strangled sobs as he pounded his fist to the ground in frustration

katsuki cursed towards whoever was there, until he found you standing behind him

he was too tired to argue.

“the fuck are you doing here,” he grumbled.

“is something wrong, 'suki?” you whispered. “i was just coming by to drop off your water bottle, you left it during hero training,” you examined his face. “are you- are you okay?”

he loved you, he really did-- but today just wasn’t a good day. “mn-no,” he managed to say.

his chest was heaving and his eyes seemed to be searching the room, as if looking for an exit.

you noticed the dark circles around his eyes and the way his lips trembled. had he been crying?

you slowly cupped his face in your hands, noses touching as you two shared breaths, inhaling and exhaling together

katsuki was too tired to pull away. 

he felt so weak.

you could hear katsuki’s breath shaking but slowly dying in volume as he held him tighter

“hey,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “you’re gonna be okay ‘suki. you’re gonna be okay.”

they’re pitying me.

“this?” you said, holding his bruised hand up and motioning towards his trembling figure. “this isn’t weak.” you said, as if reading his mind. “this is strong. this is brave. being emotionally vulnerable is one of the most courageous things anyone can ever do, and you are so much more than that, m’kay?”

he nodded in response. even though he didn’t express it that well, he thought of it 

WHEN YOU PROMISE TO STAY: TOMURA SHIGARAKI, HAWKS, DABI

DABI

everyone shut up i love him

all that he’s ever wanted and asked for in life was for someone to notice him for who he genuinely was, to be free to do whatever he pleased

it was late at night and you two were outside, the moon illuminating in the darkness as you slid against the wall of the city in the back of the building

“anything interesting happen?” you asked, staring up into the moon

the night was young and it had been a rough, terrible day at work for both of you, even though you had separate jobs and shfits-- the only thing that pushed you forward everyday was being able to meet with dabi right after, at exatly 11pm. 

sure, you did it every day, and it shouldn’t have been that impactful-- but for some reason, somehow, everything about talking to him was so... exhilerating. 

he didn’t reply.

“uhhm,” you shuffled nervously toward him. “dabi, you good?”

he let out a shaky exhale, which was odd.

hold the phone.

no, really, someone hold the phone because it was ringing

“oh, sorry, one sec,” you rushed, hurrying to answer. it was one of your co-workers. “hello!”

“uhuh. yeah. oh, cool... got it, mhm, be right ther-”

you noticed how dabi’s body language immediately changed as he turned around and crossed his arms gently over his chest and stared into the sky.

this really, really wasn’t like him. 

something had to be wrong.

“uhm, on second thought,” you said. “does tomorrow at... noon work for you? i have plans. yeah. mhm, sorry not tonight. yep, bye!”

dabi’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t look at you. “who was that?”

“one of my coworker buddies or whatever. they wanted to have a drink with me, but i said no.”

“why’d you say no?” he deadpanned.

“uhhhm, well, you certainly don’t seem very... how should i say this, at your fullest?”

“but why?” dabi said. “you meet with me every day, and going with your friends is probably a lot easier than this. what’s so different about it..?”

you thought carefully as you shrugged casually, gently leaning your head against his shoulder. “if one of my closest pals were down, i couldn’t just... leave them like that. and even though i know you won’t tell me what’s wrong, i just.. i just don’t want you to feel alone, you know? like everyone in your life has left? and i- i don’t want to do that to you.”

even though dabi stayed relatively quiet for the rest of the night, 

just know that was the day he fell in love with you.

SHIGARAKI

nightmares were the worst. 

for the record, he didn’t get them often, but when he did, and actually reacted to it... they ended up terrible

he gasped, grasping at the air for his mother’s embrace only to be met with nothingness

he clawed at his skin as his breath hitched, trying to control himself

“tomura?” you asked. “...are- are you okay?”

“get away from me,” he trembled. “i’m a... i’m a monster.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in concern. “hey, hey, c’mon. what’s going on-”

“leave me alone.”

his sudden change in tone made you jump as you stepped back and you watched his figure tremble. 

“shigaraki.”

“if something’s wrong, don’t sugarcoat it. if something’s wrong, please, for the love of the world, tell me, okay? i just- i just want to see you... maybe..”

“what?” shigaraki deadpanned. “happy? satisfied? content? joyful? you people all want the same thing.”

“hopeful.”

shigaraki looked up. 

“i want to see you hopeful, m’kay? so just... please. you don’t need to tell me word-for-word, but-- if you need something, i’m here.”

he was not going to cry. nuhuh. no way. no way was he going to start crying. 

you wrapped your arms around him before he cautiously hugged back, letting himself slowly melt into your embrace, his satin gloves against your clothes

“hey. i promise you, i’m never going to be leaving. no matter how much you mess up, no matter how terrible you may feel-- you mean the world to me. please hold on just a little longer.”

HAWKS

it wasn’t supposed to happen until later, when he was actually able to get home and prepare himself for anxious feeling in his stomach to finally settle

but noooo, his mental state really just said yolo

so here he was, reliving his entire childhood with memories that he’d pushed down for so long, about to snap in a matter of seconds

“keigo~!”

your familiar voice rang through his head. 

he just wanted to be held by you.

the most beautiful part about being with hawks his that he genuinely didn’t care about his pride around you. he wasn’t insecure of what you thought of him. he didn’t freak out or try to act like he was fine when you were with him, because... why would he need to? 

so instead of putting on a brave face and getting scared of your voice as if being anxious was a crime, he melted into it.

“hey angel, i got you some food at the-”

“y/...y/n,” his breath hitched. your voice, that you often said you were insecure about-- was his safe haven. he felt safe when he heard your voice and let himself crumple. he didn’t have to worry about putting his walls up, because it was just you.

beautiful, loving, kind you. 

his love was something special that he gave to no one else.

“k-keigo!” 

even though you were far from him, your bags in hand and everything, you immediately dropped them and ran to your boyfriend

“hey, hey, baby, what’s going on?” 

he stood directly in front of you, his head down and not saying a word.

you let your breathing sync with his as you reached out to hold his hand, when he threw his arms around you before his trembling body was held in your embrace

“-hey,” you said, shocked by the sudden embrace, before you hugged back, slowly, rocking him back and forth. “you���re going to be okay.”

“you don’t have to tell me anything, just-- focus on me,”

“i’m never leaving you, okay? no matter what you do, you’re still going to be my hero.”

and hawks decided on that day that out of anything else in the world, you meant the most to him. 

WHEN YOU TELL THEM THAT THEY MATTER: TAMAKI AMAJIKI, MASHIRAO OJIRO, SHOTA AIZAWA

TAMAKI AMAJIKI

useless. useless. useless.

why wouldn’t his stupid quirk activate before? why couldn’t he be more optimistic? why was he always thinking about something else? why couldn’t he ever stay positive and cheery like everyone else?

how was everyone else so strong?

but laying in a hospital bed, in complete silence and vulnerability...

that scared him.

tamaki blinked back the sudden tears that prickled against his eyes-- nuhuh, no way was he about to cry when so many other people had it worse, no way he was going to break down when nighteye was dead, he was not about to cry if mirio could be strong and so many other people had it worse, and-

“tamaki, snap out if it!”

your cold hands cupped his face, as you stared him directly in the eyes. “what are you doing?”

tamaki jumped back at your sudden question. but for some reason, the way you said it wasn’t angrily, more like... a statement? a question? as if you were asking are you okay?

tamaki shook his head. “i don’t... i don’t kn-know..”

get away, get away, get away.

your hands brushed back a hair from his face as you crouched down in front of him, your hands still helping him cool down. they rested gently on his scalp and along his face as you felt his breathing grow uneasy.

“listen,” you began slowly. “i’m not saying you need to tell me what’s going on, but... i just- i have a feeling that you’re not doing okay. and i know that because no one was ever really there for me back then, so if you want to say anything--”

“--i’m here for you.”

tamaki crumpled then as he let the tears fall.

his entire mask shattered as his breath hitched, trying to hold back the sobs but only came out as strangled breaths. 

“hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” 

you held up his chin and rocked him back and forth, slowly. “just because other people seem to be going through bigger things doesn’t mean that you should invalidate your problems. if something’s hurting you, that’s enough of a problem to take care of it.”

tamaki began to shake as he suddenly clutched onto you, his body trembling as he nodded. 

what would mirio, nejire, nighteye, fatgum-- what would they think of him now?

“whatever is going around in your head right now will all quiet soon, i promise you, ‘mkay?”

“it’s okay. it’s okay. you’re okay.” 

AIZAWA SHOTA

“you didn’t eat,” you said, staring at the takeout that was left in its packaging. 

you heard shota mumble under his sleeping bag. “i’ll eat after.”

“after what?” you said back from the kitchen. 

you weren’t exactly mad at him, you could say-- it was more of disappointment, maybe? concern? he had always been so concerned about his students that he forgot to take care of himself-- no wonder why he was so angry lately. 

(and no, it wasn’t his resting face, he was genuinely burnt-out the last couple of days and it wasn’t getting better.)

“shota, come on,” you said softly. “or else i’m taking your sleeping bag away from you.”

aizawa’s head emerged from the bag, the light from the laptop giving a lovely display of his eyebags. “oh?”

he smirked, even though he seemed so drained.

“yes,” you said, pointing your nose up in the air and crossing your arms. “and you better go eat before i take it away.”

aizawa raised an eyebrow, but obliged.

you watched him eat, but he kept his laptop on the table the whole time.

he was looking through the profiles of all his students, and that was-- insane

despite how much had happened to him, he always thought of someone else first, putting everyone else above him.

“you’re going to overwork yourself,” you finally said. 

“amazing,” aizawa sighed back. “had no clue.”

“oh, c’mon,” you egged. “you matter too, ya know.”

you noticed how tense his shoulders were, how his gaze was fixated to the screen and the way his veins were protruding from lack of sleep, and how red his eyes were.

sure, most of the time, this was normal-- but you just had this gut feeling that something was wrong.

“i suppose you’re not wrong,” aizawa ventured. “but sometimes, you realize that students make up most of the world. i want them to grow..”

his gaze on the screen broke.

“and for them to know a world of love and kindess, not-- whatever this is.”

you looked at him before wrapping your arms around him and kissing his forehead. “but they have a teacher who works so hard already, and you-- you deserve a break. you’re always working so hard, and you have to remember that you matter, too, okay?”

you smiled sadly. “i need to go to work, but please finish the takeout for me, hmm?”

he never told you this, of course-- but yeah, he thought of your voice every time he wanted to take a break. he never forgot the words you said. 

MASHIRAO OJIRO

being forgotten was something that came way too easily for him.

everyone in class 1a was so good at everything-- they all either had good looks, a nice voice, talents, a cool quirk, technique, charisma, and he?

ojiro felt like he didn’t have anything.

but what did it matter, right? being the forgotten one was fine to him, at least. he was able to take time for himself. 

...kind of.

he was heading back from ua into the dorms, walking alone when he realized it started to rain.

picking up his bags, he ran, putting them under his shoulders so that they didn’t get wet-- it wasn’t a long walk, but it was a lot to have to run back and make sure everything stayed dry

“wait!”

ojiro turned around to find you, carrying your backpack in the air and waving your arms. “slow-” you panted, “down! god, where’d all the rain come from??”

he chuckled slightly, until he noticed your bag getting soaked, and before he knew it, ojiro called you over and said he could carry your bag

“are you sure?” you asked, in-between breaths. “i doubt you can carry both-”

ojiro laughed and waved his tail like a hand. “i can carry it.”

your face lit up. “thanks! okay, now let’s run back, c’mon.”

you two ran as fast as you could, trying not to slip as the rain began to pour even harder against your backs. 

but when you opened the doors to the dorms and your bag was completely dry, ojiro smiled.

(also y’all he’s an underrated king DO Y’ALL KNOW HOW PRECIOUS HIS SMILE IS?? PLS-)

“thanks,” you grinned. “your quirk is actually really cool. not just for keeping stuff dry, but uh, thanks. i appreciate it.”

something inside of him made his heart swell. 

“really?” ojiro asked. “do you really- is that true?”

he didn’t want to get his hopes up too quickly, but the way you nodded proudly and affirmed it was something he could never forget.

“yeah!” you said. “just because you’re not flashy as other people doesn’t mean that you’re a plain, boring person, you know that? you’re actually really cool!”

“huh. thanks,” he noted-- and don’t worry, he walked back into his dorm room with a grin on his face the whole time.

🕭 reblog | comment | like 🕭

hey bbys! reminder to go take a break and drink some water if you’re reading this! y’all are so amazing and beautiful, and please remember that you’re valid as well. what you did today was more than enough, please remember that!! i’m very proud of you for getting through today. ily <3

qotd, what song reminds you of a fictional character 👀

join my family! 

list of family members: @kirishimuhhhhh​, @xuxisushi-1​, @kirishima-my-beloved​, @msminsuga​, @farfetchedparanoia​, @satis-mangata​, @moonhere​, @renegadedeca​, @viridevi​​, @cherriiirose​​ <3

☂ requests are open for mha + hq!! ☂

[sleepy-belphie]

I have a request if you’re up for it. An MC who just arrived in the Devildom who’s lover just dumped them the day prior. The bros know MC isn’t emotionally or romantically available at the time but the bros still fall in love regardless. How will the bros handle the situation? Thank you! 🙏💗

Hi! I sort of took this idea and ran with it and wrote basically a headcanon short story for each bro lmao. Sorry I got a bit carried away but I hope you like this and it satisfies you! :) 

Also thank you so much @midnight-dome for the help with Asmo, you’re a lifesaver

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

The success of the program depends on your wellbeing

So he checks in on you every other day like clockwork 

“Is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable?”

You always say no

At first, he’s glad you’re staying in 

Because it means less trouble for him

But when you skip all of your classes one day, he comes to your room ready to give you a firm reminder of your tasks here

He’s about to knock when he hears you sob 

Now, Lucifer has heard a lot of crying in his life

But he’s never heard someone sound so completely broken

He shocks himself when he turns on his heels and walks away

He shocks himself even more when he texts the group chat and demands everyone leaves you alone for the day

That evening he comes into your room with a small plate of food

By then you were are least on top of your sheets

You knew he was gonna ask the same question as always

But this time, his words were different

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help?” 

He simply nods

And though he didn’t outright say what he meant by help, you knew

“I...don’t know?”

“Hm, okay. I’m going to listen to some music in my study. The door will be unlocked should you wish to join me.”

Then he’s gone

The few precious moments Lucifer isn’t working, he prefers to not be disturbed

So why on earth did he invite you to join him in his study?

He doesn’t have time to ponder it because the door opens and you come in with a blanket wrapped around you

The first night you both listen in comfortable silence

A few nights in, you start asking Lucifer about the records he puts on and he has no qualms educating you on it

On night 10 you tell him about the breakup

Once you’re done he, again, asks the same question

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

‘You’ve done more than enough to help me Lucifer, thank you.”

He finds himself blushing from the sincerity in your eyes and the warmth in your smile

That night you fall asleep before the record finishes

Surely you’d wake up aching if he left you in a chair

So he picks you up, carries you to your room, and tucks you into bed carefully

He tells himself he’s doing it for Diavolo

It’s for the program, this is his job

He’s gonna need time to accept his own feelings before he can tell you anything

For now, he’ll keep doing his “job” and spending evenings with you

Mammon:

He didn’t want to be your babysitter

He was a busy guy! He had stuff to do, money to make, things to steal

Some days he gets Beelzebub to keep an eye on you so he can do what he wants

One night in particular he heads to your room to make sure you won’t interfere with his plans

“Yo! The Great Mammon has things to do so don’t-”

He pauses when he sees you sitting on your bed with your headphones plugged into your laptop

He would have assumed you were just watching a sad movie by the tears streaks on your face

But the pain in your eyes…

He’s seen that look before

His brothers held that same look the day they fell from Heaven and lost Lilith

Mammon sits on the bed and you jump, finally noticing him

You expected him to make fun of you but instead, he grabs the tissue box on your bedside table and hands it to you

He glances at your laptop to see what you were watching and sees a paused video of you and someone else

You tell him about the breakup and Mammon listens closely

“What a jerk! Ya deserve better than that! I’d teach ‘em a lesson if they ever showed their face around here!”

You smile for the first time since he came in the room and he feels like he’s done something right

“How about we get some late-night food? I know a 24-hour restaurant with the best baked newt ever. Your treat.”

He’s shocked when you agree

He makes a point to hang out with you more often

He can’t recall exactly when you went from “a human” to “his human” 

Maybe it was when you held his hand while you erased all your photos and videos of your ex from your computer

Or when you texted him at 3am because you couldn’t sleep and before he could even think about it he was up and on his way to your room

Or when he spotted you in one of his jackets while walking home from RAD

But his greed was kicking in and he wanted you to be his and only his

However, much like he puts himself first, he knows you need to do the same

So though his nature and mind wants to kiss you silly and have you for himself

Part of him knows he’ll ruin things if he lets his greed take over

So he’ll fight his nature and try his best to be patient

Leviathan:

He had been playing one of his games online

He’s on a big winning streak and feeling a bit cocky

He sees he’s been matched with someone else so he gets into gamer mode 

Then he loses the first round

He’s a bit shocked and pissed that his streak was now broken but he has to prove his superiority to whoever this opponent was

So he rematches them

And loses again

And again

He loses 7 rounds in a row

By this point he is fuming

So like any salty gamer he sends a very lengthy, angry message to their inbox

Accusing them of using cheats and hacks because there was no way anyone was more skilled than him at this game

He gets a reply a few minutes later

“Um.....is this Leviathan? Avatar of Envy? It’s MC…”

You knew it was Levi because his username is the same across all his social media platforms

Cue Levi barreling into your room a minute later

“How are you so good!? You’re cheating, aren’t you!? You cheater!’

You weren’t cheating, you just had been playing games day in and day out to distract yourself so you got really good at it

Levi all but demands you to come to his room and show him what you know

You were already playing all night anyway so why not play with someone? 

Initially, Levi would have you come over just to show him your tactics 

(Also to get some team wins on his stats because he never has anyone to play with)

But you were actually pretty chill for a normie

Maybe if he exposed you to his otaku ways you would take to them and he wouldn’t be the only one in the house anymore!

You don’t become an otaku but you do get invested in almost every anime he shows you

He starts inviting you over for midnight premieres of new episodes

He starts buying extra merch because what if you wanted one?

He was used to disproving looks from his brothers when he mass buys stuff from Akuzon

But you only smile and listen when he tells you about his new special edition item

You never once judged him and his unconventional ways

This epiphany makes him extra nervous for your weekly hangouts

It was only a matter of time before you came across a break up in an anime

When the episode ended you told him about your break up and how the protagonist reminded you of yourself because they also were taking a break from love

Levi has seen this anime before actually

He remembers how the protagonist reacted to a side character confessing to them and it went bad

So while he knows he likes you, he holds off on saying anything because the last thing he wants is to be a bad story arc in your life

Lucky for him he’s always a flustered blushing mess so you shouldn’t suspect a thing

Satan:

He is the Avatar of Wrath so whenever there is rage, he is aware

He feels anger radiating through the house one day and thinks his brothers are just fighting again

Imagine his surprise when he realizes the source of the anger is coming from your room

He walks in and sees you throwing things around and screaming, your room was destroyed

He sees you’re about to step on some glass and instantly swoops in and picks you up so you don’t hurt yourself

But then you curl up against him and burst into tears

He stands there, not quite sure what to do 

He ends up sitting on the bed and letting you cry for a while

You word vomit about your break up and he listens carefully and notes the anger welling up inside you as you speak

He knows all too well what anger can do to someone and a fragile human shouldn’t have to go through that

“Would you like some tea?”

He can spare 30 minutes for some small talk with the human if it meant that you wouldn’t be left in your thoughts

You look at him like he has three heads but agree because your room is a mess and you don’t wanna deal with it right now

Tea time becomes a daily occurrence and soon enough it escalates to full-on hangouts

Going to the bookstore, going to cat cafes, going wherever you wanted to really

One time you both took a day trip to the human world

Lucifer wasn’t happy to find out his brother and you were gone for an entire day but he lets it go when he sees that you’re smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks

What Satan didn’t expect was how these outings made him feel

He finds himself distracted from his books because he can’t stop thinking about how cute you looked holding that black cat at the cafe

Or how happy you looked when you took him to that ice cream shop in your hometown that you really love

He wakes up and you’re the first thing to pop into his mind

He’s not dumb, he knows he’s fallen in love

But he also knows this isn’t the right time, you aren’t ready

So he’ll keep being there for you as a friend

And if you ever want him to be there as something more, he’ll happily oblige

Asmodeus:

There was a movie night at the House of Lamentation

Today’s movie was an action movie, courtesy of Mammon

Amidst all the face punching and explosions, there was a budding romance between the main characters

After the third obnoxious makeout scene, you leave the room claiming you need to go to the restroom

But you leave just a *little* too fast and Asmo can feel something is up

And he thrives on gossip so he intends to find out what is it

He leaves the room a few minutes later and catches you in the hallway, determined to get you to spill the tea

You tell him about the breakup

He wasn’t prepared for the tea to be so bitter

“Oh. Well, you know what’s good for that? Face masks!” 

He had to save face somehow and beauty was his default

He’s a bit shocked when you agree but you both ditch movie night to do face masks and talk a bit

He decides to share a couple of bad date experiences he’s had to make you feel better

“Trust me, you haven’t felt embarrassment until you have someone vomit Enfield brains on your new pants and shoes while at one of the hottest clubs in the Devildom.”

You spent the entire night giggling and listening to his stories

Devildom products are surprisingly effective on your skin so you keep asking Asmo to show you new products

Plus his company is nice

Self-care days become a common occurrence

Then those self-care days become self-care sleepovers

He starts intentionally waiting to try anything new because he wants you to be there when he does

He buys more of those scented candles you told him smelled nice

A few weeks later you’re having a self-care sleepover again and you have this really cute focused look on your face while painting your nails

He knows he likes you, but this was different than his usual attraction

He didn’t want to fuck you

Well he did but not just fuck you

He wouldn’t mind if there was something more

But you routinely ended your self-care nights by yelling ‘Fuck love!’ at the top of your lungs and laughing

So he knows now isn’t the time and he’s actually okay with that

You were a sight to behold regardless of his relationship status with you

But he hopes you’ll indulge in him one day

Beelzebub:

Mammon keeps pushing his human watching duties on Beel

But he doesn’t really care because he’s being paid in cheesecake

After his third day of keeping an eye on you, he notices you aren’t eating much

Being the Avatar of Gluttony, this is basically a crime

He starts bringing extra snacks with him when he hangs out with you

“I think the chocolate flavor is better than the vanilla. What do you think?”

He actually doesn’t have a preference 

He just wants to know which snacks you like more so he can bring more of them

He makes a game out of it so you don’t think about how much you’re eating

“It motivates me to work out longer when I get a snack, could you help me?”

You sit on his back and after every pushup, you both eat a bit of whatever snack he has

He keeps going until he thinks you’ve eaten a decent amount

Or you say you’re getting full

Belphie notices that Beel is refilling his snack stash more often but he doesn’t say anything

Beel feels an immense sense of accomplishment when you finish your plate at dinner a few days later

Soon after you tell him about the breakup

“It hit me hard but you made it easier to cope, Beel. These hangouts are the highlight of my day so thank you.”

There’s a certain pang Beel gets in his stomach when he’s really hungry

Somehow your words made that pang happen in his chest

But this didn’t hurt him, quite the opposite actually

He felt good, he felt happy

It was strange for his stomach to be the quiet one while his heart went wild

But this wasn’t a change he minded too much

He wasn’t sure what to make of it but he knows he wants to figure it out with you

And he’ll take his time doing so because he liked how things were now

Belphegor:

He’s intrigued by you after the first week of your stay

He’s never seen a human who slept as much as he did

Frankly, he was impressed

Until Lucifer informed everyone about your recent breakup and made it clear to not upset you

That’s when Belphie realized these were not the leisurely naps he takes, but depression naps

One day he sees you sleeping in the living room and you looked so distressed

Sleeping was meant to be a peaceful state but you looked so unhappy

So he wakes you up

“You’re in my sleeping spot.”

You weren’t in his sleeping spot.

“Oh sorry, I’ll move-”

“You’re already here. We can both fit.” 

Before you can protest he’s all comfy next to you and falling back asleep

Having another person next to you was kind of comforting so you let it go and go back to sleep

What you didn’t know was Belphie could partially influence your dreams

He can make them more pleasant but he can’t control what you dream about

He knows it works when he wakes up and you have a relaxed expression on your sleeping face

You wake up soon after looking confused

“Good dream?”

“I think? I had a dream I rode a unicorn to the moon then carved my initials into it?”

Napping together in the living room becomes a routine

And every time you woke up you told him about the dream you had with a small smile

A few weeks later he notices he no longer has to influence your dreams for them to be good

So he leaves you be and instead curls up in the attic for his afternoon nap

He wakes up a bit when he feels someone lay down next to him

It’s probably Beel

“Why didn’t you tell me you moved napping spots?”

His eyes open and he looks over to see you pouting at him

“I just sorta ended up here.”

“Well, I can’t nap without my cuddle buddy now can I?”

You’re teasing him and he should be annoyed

But he’s blushing

He spoons you to hide that fact, resting his forehead on your shoulder

But while your dreams were getting better, it didn’t mean you were ready to move on

So he just enjoys his intimate cuddling sessions with you and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he really likes how your body fits against his

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

masterlist | join the tag list

The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[write-ur-wrongs]

Be Your Man

A/N: I know I say it every time, but seriously, thank you SO MUCH for your requests, anon or otherwise. It means the world to me that you trust me with your visions. Here’s a requested fic inspired by the song “Be Your Man” by Rhys Lewis! It’s angsty and has the slightest hint of smut if you look really hard. As always, there are no physical descriptions of the reader! I hope you like it - I cried at the end lmao. 

It’s not proof-read so I apologize in advance!! I really hope you like it. 

_______________________________________________________

Being with the bard was, in a word, comfortable.

His connections ensured you always had a soft bed in a warm inn waiting for you at the end of the day. His reputation and acclaim afforded you a higher status among villagers, scholars, and even knights. Everyone loved his music and adored his visits. With him, you were always welcome.

With him, every day was a gift and every evening a celebration. With him, you never found yourself in harm’s way. Never felt the gnawing pull of hunger or the ache of thirst. He never left your side and you had no reason to leave his. And he loved you, he really did. He showed you everyday, through his songs, his words, his touch.

You were his sun and you were, for lack of a kinder word, comfortable.

That isn’t something you were used to, being comfortable. Your life had been tumultuous from the start and you had hardened yourself accordingly. Everything you had you’d earned as a journeying blacksmith; working whatever you could to make a sale. Now though, having access to any workshop, material, or tradesman the continent could offer, you were at the height of your craft.

But still, nothing could ever compare to the blade you forged for Geralt.

It was stunning, perfectly balanced, crafted from your best steel and iron Geralt had been gifted from the mines of Mahakam. The ornate curve of the hilt took you days to perfect and the faceted garnet you’d set within the pommel shone brilliantly with a clarity that royal houses across the continent would envy.

“It’s exceptional,” he murmured, completely in awe, while examining your work, “how you manage to make your blades look so intricate without sacrificing quality, I’ll never understand.”

You bit your smile to keep yourself from gushing as you watched him wield the sword as if it was an extension of him. And it should be, as you crafted it with him in mind.

“Whoever buys this will be one lucky bastard,” he said as he came out of a mock-parry and pirouette.

“Oh, I’m not selling it!” you said, shaking your head at him as he sheathed the weapon.

“What? Y/N this could get you four maybe five hundred Novigrad crowns! Did someone commission you for it?”

“No, no, it’s a gift.”

“Y/N you are far too generous.” He admonished, attempting to hand the sword back to you.

“Hush, it’s for you.” You say, laying your hands over his, your eyes sparkling.

Gods the way he looked at you then. The way his face softened when you laid your hands over his, how his breath hitched when you took a step towards him. Your bodies so close, eyes flitting from his hooded lids to his lips, and when you finally –

“We’re just about there, darling!” Jaskier sang, pulling you out of your reverie just as the familiar ache began pulling at your lower belly.

“Ah! Y-yes! Wonderful!”

“Well look at you, you’re blushing! Are you remembering the last time we were here?” He teased flirtatiously, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“Mm you know me well,” you lied, quickly taking his hand in yours to get it off your thigh. “How much farther, would you say? I’m starving.”

“Not too long, darling.” He said softly, glad that you were watching the forest with rapt attention, and praying the sting of your deflection wouldn’t be too obvious should you turn to meet his eyes. You didn’t turn to look at him though, and that filled the bard with both relief and immense sadness.

Jaskier wasn’t a fool, he recognized your guilt, sensed the way your heart longed for another. But every now and then, when it was just the two of you, he was sure he saw joy in your eyes. You loved him, maybe not quite as he loved you, but he was certain you loved him.

She just loves him more. He smiled at you sadly, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand in silent resignation.

**

“God, I fucking love these beds!” you sighed blissfully, rolling onto your back. The pair of you had meant to get your room and then head out into the village to find work but you hadn’t been able to ignore the fire the earlier memories had ignited.

“Careful my sweet, or I’ll start to think you’re only with me for the fine accommodations.” Jaskier chanced, hoping you’d finally say the three words he so desperately wanted to hear you say, and see that you meant it.

“Ha! Shut up, Jask.” You laughed lightly, snuggling into his arms where you couldn’t catch the disappointment in his eyes, and where he couldn’t see the sadness in yours. Don’t go there, Y/N, you thought, Jask is Jask, and he loves you just fine.  

“Why don’t you let me,” you whisper, peppering his neck and jaw with kisses between words, desperate to get your mind off your witcher, “show you how much I love you?”

“Aa-euhm…” Jaskier let out a breathless squeal as your hand creeped between his thighs and he let himself be lost in your touch. Maybe, he thought, good enough could be enough.

**

You’d given up on the idea to go out to find work long before the sun had set on the village, but that surely didn’t keep work from finding you. The pair of you had barely settled yourselves at the table when you were recognized and showered in contracts.

“Please, madam, I know it’s not the priceless blades you normally work with, but my pots and pans are in desperate need to be replaced –”

“Of course, miss Eldridge,” you interrupted the inn’s owner gently, placing a light hand over hers to calm her nerves, “it would be a pleasure to help you. I’ve recently been working with new casting molds, and it would be an honour to sell you my first.”

“Oh, my! Thank you, Y/N, thank you!”

“No, thank you – this stew is easily the best we’ve ever had! It would be a crime if you weren’t able to keep serving.”

“Oh, you’re too kind!” she laughed humbly, giving your arm a squeeze in thanks before walking back to the kitchen.

You were beaming as you watched the woman practically skip back behind the heavy wooden door.

“What? Why are you staring?” you asked Jaskier, bringing your beer up for a long sip.

“I love watching you work; you shine like the stars on a winter’s night.” He said, reaching over to hold your hand in his.

“Ugh, Jask,” you groaned, wrinkling your nose at his poetics. “You’re such a cheeseball,” you teased him lightly, as you’d done many times before, but this time something flashed in his eyes.

“Hey! I know you were never showered in compliments when you were with Geralt, but-”

“What?!” you interrupted, practically spitting out your last sip.

Jaskier merely leaned back in his seat and gave you a one-shouldered shrug. You could tell he was trying to be aloof but in the six months you’d been together, the topic of Geralt had been a like a landmine. Someone always got hurt, actually, you both ended up hurt.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? I’m not wrong here, love.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jask. It was a beautiful sentiment, really! I’m just – y-you know how I am with this kind of stuff.”

“I know, dear” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on his drink.

“I adore your work,” you added, your nerves heightened by his apparent sense of calm, “I’m just not… always comfortable being the subject.”

“My expressions of love make you uncomfortable now?” he scoffed, looking up at you with big, sad eyes.

“No! No, Jask. T-that’s not what I meant!” you put your drink down and scooted closer to him to take both his hands in yours. “Jaskier, please… I love you. This is how I love, it-it’s who I am, it’s how I am. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll be your star.”

Jaskier only shook his head slowly as he looked into your eyes. “I’ve seen you in love, Y/N. I believe you love me,” he said, giving your hands a squeeze, “but you’re not in love with me.”

“That isn’t true, Jask.” You whispered, blinking back heavy tears. You held his hands so tightly now, as if afraid he’d just disappear into thin air before you.

“It is though, and that’s okay.”

“Jaskier…”

“You know, you always use my name,” he said, nodding slightly as he thought, “not always my full name, but alas.”

You opened your mouth to disagree but couldn’t bring yourself to use a pet name, and so your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish. The bard looked at you knowingly with his large, knowing eyes, full of love but still heavy with sadness.

“Jaskier,” you finally conceded, feeling yourself crumble under his heavy gaze, “what’s happening?” you asked, your voice coming out of you like a strangled whisper.

“What do you want to happen?”

“I can’t lose you too.”

“‘Too’.” He repeated flatly.

You wanted to comfort him, to correct him, but nothing was coming to you. He wasn’t wrong, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him now.

“Why are we doing this now, Jask? I thought we were doing okay. I thought we were happy,” you finally managed to ask, your voice shaky.

“Look, I’m,” he tried, his own voice breaking despite himself, “I know I can’t compare with him.” He waited a beat to see if you’d interrupt him with a correction and when you didn’t, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to you and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I know how you feel. How you’ve… been feeling. Y/N, Geralt is here. He walked in not long ago, and he’s sitting at the back the of bar.”

Everything went blurry. You could tell he was still talking to you it was like your ears were stuffed with cotton – everything was muffled but too loud. You were going to pass out. Or throw up. Or both. Every inch of you was screaming to turn around and look for him, but you were frozen in place like a deer who’d spotted the archer and heard the bow snap but just stood stock-still and let the arrow hit.

“Y/N,” Jaskier pulled your hands closer to him, pulling you back to reality along with them, “I made the decision that I’m okay being your second choice,” he swallowed thickly before continuing, “but now I need you to make a choice.”

You felt as though you’d just been struck. He was looking at you with too much kindness, too much understanding, too much compassion. Holding his gaze made you feel as though a knife was being twisted into your chest, but you were so afraid that if you looked away, he’d leave you.

“My dove,” he says softly as if reading your mind, “I love you and no matter what you chose I’ll be there for you, always. I just want you to be truly happy.”  

You squeezed your eyes shut to keep more tears from falling, but upon feeling him get up to leave the table, your eyes shot open and you let the tears fall.

Very softy, Jaskier cradled your face in his hand and gave your forehead a lingering kiss before pulling away.

“I’m going to head upstairs… I’ll see you up there?” he whispered hopefully.

You nodded up at him wordlessly and let the tears fall as you watched him head up the stairs.

Left alone, you wrapped your arms around yourself and bit your cheek until you tasted blood to keep yourself from openly sobbing. The bustle of the inn allowed you some sense of privacy, which you appreciated, but it also exacerbated your loneliness. Letting out a shaky breath, you poured the rest of your drink into your mouth and swished it around to wash away the blood before swallowing.

Jaskier knew. All these months you thought you were the only one hurting, the only one who felt the weight of the witcher’s memory, but you were wrong. Gods were you ever wrong.

You felt terrible, and far too sober. You quickly swiped at your tear-soaked face, picked up your empty stein and turned to make your way to the bar.

But then you saw him.

He was alone, as always, wearing the thick wool cape you loved. The hood wasn’t up so you could see that his snow-white hair was a mess of knots. His eyes were fixed on his drink, so you were saved from meeting his gaze. Gods, you’ve missed him, and fuck he looked good. And tired. Your heart broke at the sight of him.

Then he looked up at you and your breath caught in your throat. His rich, golden eyes were looking straight at you… and they were vacant. He was looking through you, not at you; he didn’t remember you or care to, and your already broken heart shattered once more.

I am nothing to him, you thought somberly, exchanging your empty mug for a full one. You took a deep, shaky breath and downed your beer in one go, slamming the stein back down decisively. But I’m everything to him, maybe that will be enough.

Before heading up the stairs to where you knew the bard was waiting, you allowed yourself one last look at Geralt, only to find he wasn’t at his table anymore. Seems the fates had decided for you, your thought, letting a hollow laugh escape your lips.

The staircase wasn’t especially long, but the trip up felt unending. You took every step slowly, allowing yourself these brief moments of grief over the official loss of your witcher before you committed yourself fully to Jaskier. No more daydreams, no more longing, no more imagining his large, strong arms around you while the bard’s sinewy frame enveloped you.

You had just about convinced yourself that you’d made the right decision when you spotted him, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.

“G-Geralt,” you breathed, feeling yourself smile despite yourself.

“Y/N.”

“What, um, how – uh, hi,” you stuttered, needing to look up at the ceiling to keep yourself from completely melting under the burn of his gaze.

“Hm,” he hummed, taking a hesitant step towards you, “still the wordsmith I see.”

“Hilarious,” you retorted, falling effortlessly back into your habits. “I’m happy to see you’ve still got my blade,” you said, nodding to the sword behind his back.

“Of course,” he breathed, now dangerously close to you. “I take you with me everywhere.”

“You mean my blade?” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“No.” he said, his eyes boring into you, sparking the flame you’d spent so long trying to tamp out. “Are you here with him?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“You know I am.” You replied defensively, irrationally angry to hear him bring up the bard.

“How is he?”

“He’s fine,” you spat, but seeing the way Geralt’s eyes softened knowingly at you, you couldn’t help but to backpedal your aggression. “He’s Jaskier, you know? All silver linings and sunshine.”

“I’m sure,” he murmured, casting his eyes downward as he remembered his friend’s almost insufferable positively. “And you? Are you happy?”

“Geralt…” you practically groaned, crossing your arms to keep the heat radiating off of him from taking over you.

“Are you?” he insisted, reaching over to let his warm, calloused fingers ghost over your forearm. The feeling lit your body on fire and left an obvious layer of goosebumps in their wake.

He was standing so close to you know, you could smell the leather, cedar, and smoke emanating off of him, just like it always had. You could feel his breath on your face. Despite yourself, you looked up at him through your lashes. His proximity was intoxicating, inexplicably comforting.

“This is cruel… you’re being cruel…” you whispered, wiping stubborn tears away but not taking a step in any direction, unable to risk his leaving if you were to move.

“Y/N…”

“He loves me, Geralt, so much.” You insisted, almost like a mantra.

“But are you happy?” Now he was whispering. He sounded sad, his deep gravelly voice melting over you like sunlight after a frozen night.

“Geralt –” you warned, shaking your head.

“Answer me.”

“No. I-I’m not.”

“You’re not going to answer me?”

“I’m not happy.” You conceded, the truth of the statement washing over you as you heard yourself say it.

“Me either.”

You looked up at Geralt then, letting yourself take in the sight of him in full; his eyes, big and sad and fierce as ever, his brows furrowed, creating that deep crease you so desperately wanted to reach up and soothe, his mouth, his lips. You were barely inches from each other now, all you had to do was tip your chin, stand a little straighter…

He closed the gap between you then, his lips crashing into yours hungrily. You fully surrendered yourself to him, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours and you let yourself be happy, insanely, deliriously happy, for the first time in months.

***

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, his head in both hands, and sobbed. His broken breath echoed around the empty room, sporadically drowning out the sound of his best friend kissing the love of his life on the other side of the door.

She was never mine, he thought as sobs broke through him.

She was never mine.

[jj-5656]

We’ll Be Alright

With; Newt (TMR)

A/N: Beware, it’s a sad. Anyways, it’s more Thomas and reader than anything else, both trying to overcome their grief. I also recommend sad music lmao. ALSO I do condone Teresa slander and yes I have read the books. I acknowledge the character development BUT AT WHAT COST?

You rub your fingers across the zipper of the jacket over your shoulders, glaring at the boy in front of you. Blood boiling as he carves her name onto the rock that potrudes from the sand. Each scratch of the knife against the stone, each letter makes your stomach churn in rage. Why the shuck would Thomas even consider putting it there, not after all she’d done. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest, pumping the hot blood throughout your nbody as your mind is flooded with the hate-

“Y/n, just breathe alright? You need to calm down.” Minho’s deep voice instructs softly beside you. Despite his soothing tone, the burning fire in front of the group of you does nothing to relax you.

This isn’t like you, you’ve never been one to get this angry. But it’s different now, you’re different. A lot of times there are moment when everything seems fine, but not when Thomas is carving her shucking name right where-

“Y/n, you’re practically seething just-” Minho’s cut off when you scramble up from your seat between him and Frypan, not bothering to listen to their protests as you March towards Thomas. Tunnel vision making the wide distance between you collapse in only seconds. He’s only halfway through carving out the ‘R’ when you shove him out of the way. No doubt catching him off guard as he looks at you with eyes wide in bewilderment.

“Wh-what the hell-”

“How dare you put her shucking name next to his! You have no right!” You shout instantly, voice raw with anger and hurt as the taller boy straightens himself out.

“Y/n, what are you-”

“You don’t even see how messed up it is, do you? She’s the reason Minho still can’t sleep at night, the reason he does all he can to escape sleep to avoid the awful night terrors. She’s the reason the boy I loved is dead! It’s her shucking fault. And what, because she assisted us the tiniest bit before shit hit the fan she deserves to be on that rock? That’s a load of klunk, Thomas.”

“I lost him too y/n!”

“Then how could you possibly love her Thomas? After all she did to us!” You shove him again, but the boy doesn’t move back this time. He steps to you, eyes filled with anger and confusion at your outburst. His next words tear you apart, and suddenly all the pent up anger you’ve been pushing down explodes as he speaks.

“WCKD took her too! The flare took all she had, she was only trying to make things right!” Without thinking, your fist crashes against the brunette’s cheek with a terrible thump. Pain immediately sears throughout your knuckles and up your arm, but it’s nothing compared to the never-ending ache of your heart.

“You slinthead! How dare you try and justify what she did to us! Does what she went through make her actions right? Does her pain excuse torturing thousands of kids for the sake of what WCKD felt was necessary? It doesn’t Thomas, and no amount of her regret or guilt can take it back. Or bring him back, bring him home!” Your voice cracks as you cradle your fist, warm tears streaming down your cheeks as Gally, Frypan, and Minho come rushing over.

“Take a walk y/n.” Gally yells once the others help Thomas to his feet. He holds his chin, dazed and shocked at your actions.

“Th-Thomas I didn’t-” You struggle to find the words as you slowly back away, stunned and terrified by your own force as you try to come to terms with what you’ve just done.

“I said take a walk!” The muscular blonde repeats, standing in front of you and nudging you toward the edge of the beach. You don’t protest this time, stumbling hurriedly toward the water in a fit of emotions.

****************

When you’ve finally calmed down, your blurred vision can just make out the large rock that stands a few yards from the crashing waves. You don’t hesitate to climb on top of it, settling down against the cold stone and wrapping the corduroy jacket around you even tighter. It still smells like him, and sometimes when you close your eyes you can still feel him.

“Hey, I know you’re scared. But we won’t hurt you, I promise you’re alright greenie.”

“Greenie?”

“That’s what we call all the newbies, I’m Newt by the way. What do you say you get out of this thing, lemme show you around? You’ll be alright greenie, I promise.” Without thinking, you take the stranger’s outstretched hand. You can’t remember who you are, where you’re from, or how you ended up here. Still, his kind eyes and warm smile draw you to him. You don’t know him, but you will.

“Newt, I know we have to save Minho but there’s still time for-”

“Darling, please. We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it! You can’t make this decision on your own!”

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too.”

“You don’t get it Newt, I won’t-I can’t do this without you.” He offers a soft smile when he wipes a tear from your cheek, but you can tell it’s not genuine. You grip onto his jacket, pleading with your eyes for him to reconsider. But the way he cups the sides of your face with blood-shot eyes makes the small bit of hope in your hear fizzle away. He’s already decided, he’s gonna leave you.

“Please, please don’t leave me Newt. Mihno’s gonna be here soon okay? He’s gonna bring the serum and this will all go away just...Please don’t go baby, please don’t leave me here. Thomas, Thomas he won’t stop bleeding! Go find Minho! Thomas, get up! We have to do something!” You’re screaming at the boy who only stares blankly ahead, tears streaming down his face as he meets your eyes. Your body wracks with sobs as he only shakes his head, getting up and walking towards the building ahed of you. You don’t attempt to get his attention anymore, grabbing the collar of Newts jacket and shaking him. “Wake up Newt, please wake up...” You throw your arms around him as you sob, hiding your face in his neck when Minho and the others reach you. It’s too hard to look at them, knowing their expressions will only make this moment more real. Is it real? This couldn’t be anything more than a nightmare. You can only mumble out protests when you feel Minho pulling you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist when you desperately try to get back to the cold body laying on the floor. “We can’t leave him here! We can’t just leave him!” Minho’s own cries are drowned out through white noise as he drags you back to the jet, Newts fluffy-collard jacket crumpled in your arms as you succumb exhaustion and defeat. He’s gone

Waves crash against the large rock in a rythmic dance. Bringing your knees up to your chest to fight the cold, you rub the stained sleeve of the brown jacket wrapped around you. The deep blue stain reminding you of that horrid night, the lifeless, black eyes that stared up at the sky as you were whisked away from your only love.

“Mind if I sit?” The solemn voice interrupts before you can spiral once more. You nod, not turning around to watch Thomas climb onto the Boulder and shuffle to sit beside you. The brunette looking out at the night sky with an thoughtful expression.

“I think about that night a lot, what we could have done differently. And I think somewhere out there, there’s a different ending for all of us. Where he’s here, and we don’t have to pretend there’s not someone missing at the bonfires or dinner table...I didn’t want to love her y/n, not after what she did to us. But you and I know it’s not something we can control. No matter what I do, I love her.” His voice cracks as he speaks, but he avoids your eyes when you look to him.

“What I said Thomas, what I did...That wasn’t fair. I should have never hit you. It’s just, I’m so angry Tommy. I’m so mad all the time and it’s so scary. Sometimes, I feel like I lost myself that night and I’ll never get her back. It’s like, I don’t know...Like whoever I once was, was left laying next to his body. I can’t imagine how scared he must have been, how alone he must have felt. To feel himself and all his memories slipping away all over again. He never deserved it, he didn’t deserve any of it. A lot of times I wish it was me-”

“D-don’t say that.”

“I do though, I wish it was me. He was too good for this world. He deserved a happy ending Thomas, damnit we all did. I feel like I can’t breathe when he’s not with me, I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I mean, I punched you for gods sake! Same girl who wouldn’t even slice a pig her first day at the glade...” He lets out a small laugh, nostalgic smile pulling at his lips when he looks over at you.

“I remember Newt telling me about that, said he’d never seen a greenie tell Gally to go shuck himself until you.” You let out a pathetic chuckle, shaking your head and rubbing another oncoming wave of tears at his words.

“I miss him so much Tommy, it hurts all the time...I guess I’m still trying to forgive the world, forgive myself. I just wish I could talk to him one more time, hear his voice. I’m still trying to grasp he’s never coming back to me. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings sometimes, all this pain.”

“You could punch me again. You have a mean right hook by the way.” You meet his gaze with forced smile, tackling the taller boy into an embrace when you notice the fresh tears on his cheeks. He falters at the contact, but immediately wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I’m sorry Tommy. He loved you so much, I know he’d hate to see us fight. You didn’t deserve what I did, I know that. I should never taken my anger out on you.”

“It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. And I also know he would never have wanted you to blame yourself. He wanted you to be able to move on, to look back on all of it and know it was all meant to be. The shank also told me to take care of you, I guess I’m doing a pretty shuck job at that huh?” Your laugh is genuine this time, a little giggle that reassures Thomas he’ll be able to make sure of that promise some day in the future. He’d make sure Newt would have someone to look after you, always.

“He told me the same thing. I think you and Minho are doing all the work though.”

“Not a chance, I think I needed a good punch honestly. Who taught you how to hit like that?” You swat at his chest, pulling away from the hug to lean against his side.

“Gally, I think. Didn’t you get flashbacks from when he kicked your ass at the glade?”

“Hilarious, I could totally beat him in a fight now.”

“Right.”

“We should head back, the others might worry you were jacked enough to finish what you started.”

“Give me a couple minutes? I’ll meet you there.” You mutter softly, offering the boy a soft smile when he kisses the crown of your head and heads towards the firelight in the distance.

You let out a deep sigh when you look back out at the waves, stuffing your hands in the pockets of the jacket to warm them. Movements faltering when you feel something like twine wrap around your fingers. Pulling out the small item, your heart swells when you finally see what’s blocked your hand. It’s a strand of braided leather, a bracelet you recognize as the one Newt wore back in the glade. The frayed ends of the tattered leather warm your heart, surveying his tedious handywork with moisture filled eyes. Suddenly, a wave of assurance overcomes you. As if the boys’ finnally been able to communicate it’ll all be okay. You wrap the fabric around your fingers, pressing it against your lips before heading toward the campfire in the distance. Everything’s gonna be okay.

[marvelslut16]

I trust you

Prompt number: 31 “I trust you”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Part two to Trust me for once.

Rating: T

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions blood, violence, and death. A lil angst. 

A/N: I just want to write for Bucky for the rest of fictober, someone stop me please. I don’t know why I love this fic so much, but I do. Maybe it’s my lack of sleep messing with me lmao. I passed 500 followers and I can’t possibly begin to explain how much that means to me and how much I love each and every one of you! When I started my Tumblr last year to write some shitty self indulgent fanfics I never thought anyone would ever read them. I never imagined having 500 people following my shitty blog. 

In the week and a half since Hydra had captured you, Bucky has been spiraling. When he got to the quinjet and turned to look for you, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach when he couldn’t find you. Everything you had said to him in the warehouse started to make more sense, you phrashed things a specific way; ‘so long as it gets you out of here safely.’ He knew you weren’t coming, but he still made Steve keep the quinjet there and wait until it was almost too late and the team was under attack again.

Back at the compound Bucky spends all of his time in his room or down in the gym punching- and breaking- one of the many punching bags, throwing his knives at targets, and working on his shooting. He isn’t sleeping and he isn’t eating, he won’t even talk to Steve when the super soldier tries to get him to talk- whether it be about what happened in the warehouse or anything in general. 

Steve, Sam, and Tony are exhausting every resource they have to find you, Hydra had moved you to another location as soon as the quinjet was out of sight of the base. On the rare occasion Bucky isn’t in the gym or his room, he's hovering over the shoulders of the three men hoping he’ll see something they missed. He doesn’t, and only succeeds in annoying aforementioned men with his brooding stares and silence. 

Bucky has nightmares on a daily basis again, something that his time in Wakanda with Shuri and T’Challa had gotten rid of. The only difference this time is he doesn’t see himself. He sees everything he went through, all the tourture he endured and the innocent bloodshed, but instead of him you’re in his shoes. He watches you get your brain turned into mush in the damn chair. He watches you forgetting everyone- forgetting him- and then going after the Avengers because you don’t know any better. He can never wake up from the nightmares, he’s stuck in them until he watches you die or you kill him. 

Twelve days after you’re taken, Bucky's down in the gym, sitting on a chair because the memories of you in the warehouse are consuming him. You saying that he hates you and to just trust you for once are playing on repeat. How could you think he doesn't trust you?

“I trust you!” he screams into the empty gym, wishing he’d told you so in the warehouse, hurling the knife that was resting in his hand into the wall across from him. He goes to run his hands through his long strands of hair, forgetting he had cut most of it off, something you would refer to as pulling a Britney. He has no idea what that even means, but you say it everytime you or Nat impulsively cut your hair super short. Instead he pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to push the memories away. “I could never hate you.”

Steve enters the gym quietly, observing his best friend for a few minutes. He’s never seen him this bad before, not even when he was consumed by guilt when he realized all of the innocent lives that were lost by his hands. Steve was aware that Bucky has had feelings for you since he saw you, immediately becoming infatuated with your beauty. His feelings continued to grow when he learned your humor, sarcasm, intelligence, and saw your skill in battle. Steve knew Bucky was intimidated and nervous, not as skilled with the women like he was seventy years ago and that’s why he didn’t talk to you, but Steve never realized that Bucky cared this much. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve finally speaks, causing Bucky to stand up and pretend he wasn’t just having a breakdown. “We’ve got something.”

Bucky doesn’t verbally respond, instead he brushes past Steve and walks out of the gym. Steve quickly leads the way to the lab, filling Bucky in on the new development. Hydra is streaming a live feed of you chained to a chair right to every computer and television screen in the compound. When the two get to the lab, packed with the rest of the Avengers huddling around the same screen, Bucky see’s you for the first time in twelve days. The first time you aren’t a figment of his imagination. You’re bruised and bloody: split lip with dried blood on your chin; dried blood on your forehead from where you must have wiped the blood from the cut on your eyebrow so it didn’t drip into your eyes before you were chained to the chair; you’re left eye black, blue, and bruised; your skin has a yellow hue and your cheeks are hollow from malnutrition. 

Bucky wants to scream, he wants to put a fist through a wall, and he wants to kill whoever laid a hand on you. The Avengers watch quietly as he squeezes through the gaps in the group's huddle so he can be by the screen. By you. You aren’t staring at the camera, instead staring straight in front of you, where he imagines Hydra agents are standing. 

“You don’t want another Winter Soldier,” your voice is the exact opposite of your appearance, it’s still so strong and determined. “You want the Winter Soldier. You wanted us to intercept the messages and show up at the base, it was an ambush.” 

“Very good, Ms. (Y/L/N),” a man speaks off screen, he has a thick Russian accent, but Bucky doesn’t recognize it. “The only problem was that you seemed to figure it out that day, and ruined our plans.”

“Oops?” your sarcasm garners another slap, the ring on the man's hand causing a gash on your cheekbone. “It’s been what, over a week? How long are you gonna keep me?”

“Until Soldat switches places with you,” you let out a loud bark of a laugh that echoes off the walls in the small room. 

“Bucky, your Soldat, he won’t sacrifice himself for me,” you laugh at the man interrogating you.

“We learned of his affections for you-” you cut him off with another laugh. 

“You need to fire whoever told you that,” you can’t stop laughing at the absurdity that came out of the Hydra agents mouth. And you don’t care if he becomes angry and annoyed with you, you’re gonna get killed no matter what. Your eyes quickly flick to the camera set up on your left, the one the Hydra agents thought you hadn’t seen, before continuing knowing the Avengers had to be seeing all of this. “The only affection Bucky has for me is hatred. He hates me, there’s no way he’d switch places for little old me. You should have captured literally anyone else if you wanted him to be upset. He can’t stand me! We can’t even hold a simple conversation, and he always leaves the room when I’m in it. We were only paired up on this mission because of a fluke accident. Face it, you fucked up. I’m worthless to your Soldat.”

“That’s not true!” Bucky feels like he’s yelling it at the screen, but his protest is only a whisper. The rest of the team watches him with sad eyes, he’s looking at you so longingly. Trying to will you to understand how he feels about you through the screen. As if on cue, you glance at the camera again, giving it a sd smile, accepting your fate. A loud ping comes from one of the computers in the lab, but Bucky keeps eye contact with you, even though he knows you can’t see. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it until his flesh hand is pressed against the television.

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yells, already calling for his suit. 

“Then you’re worthless to me!” the hydra agent growls, stopping the team in their tracks who were on their way to change. 

“No,” Bucky pleads, when he hears the safety of a gun clicking off.  

“Any last words for your precious Avengers?” the man asks you, gesturing to the camera, he hadn’t noticed you’d already seen it. 

“I’d say tell my family I love them,” you’re openly talking to the camera now. “But I don’t have any. So thank you for being the family I never had, and the family I always wanted. I love every single one of you.”

A tear slips from your non swollen eye, a matching one rolling down Bucky’s cheek. The screen goes black, a gun goes off, and then the feed cuts completely. “No!” he screams, going to punch a hole in the television, but his fist goes right through due to it being Stark technology. 

“Where are you going?” Steve calls as Bucky heads to exit to the lab, no one else moving, too shocked to register everything that just happened. 

“Let’s go kill those bastards,” is his gruff response, heading towards the hanger with the Quinjet since he’s already dressed in his tactical gear from his time in the gym. 

Steve and Tony are the first ones dressed and ready to go, but the latter hangs back so Steve can talk to his best friend privately. Steve doesn’t say anything when he sits beside the brunette, he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“(Y/N) died thinking I hated her Stevie,” Bucky’s voice breaks. “I kept my distance cause I didn’t want to hurt her. And then I saw her with Sam and I was jealous so I started to ignore her more. I pushed her away because I was scared and jealous. And now she’ll never know that I love her.”

--

A shot rings through the small room you’re stuck in, the bullet lodging into the wall beside your head. You glance at the camera, finding the red light off. Your team, your family thinks you're dead. That was his damn plan, he knows they’ll come to avenge you. 

“Sit tight,” he smirks, the barrel of his gun coming into contact with your skull, effectively knocking you out. 

Your head is heavy and pounding in pain when you finally come to. Outside the door you can hear screams and guns going off at rapid speed. You cringe away from the sound when someone uses their body to break open the door to your room. The sound of familiar footsteps clomping towards you causes you to perk up, it’s Bucky. You can’t open your eyes or even move your head towards the sound to alert him that you’re okay, but you hear a whispered “thank god,” when he hears your steady heartbeat. From the crunching sound you can tell Bucky used his vibranium hand to crush the handcuffs keeping you attached to the chair. 

He picks you up bridal style, holding you close to his warm chest. You involuntarily cuddle into the warmth, causing Bucky to smile lovingly down at you. “I’ve got you now,” he whispers, hand caressing your cheek, careful not to put pressure on your many cuts. 

When you wake up again, you're in the familiar sterile medbay at the compound. A heavy weight is on your hand, looking over you notice it’s Bucky's hands clutching yours, his head tipped back on the seat he’s in.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Sam smirks at the scene from the doorway, holding a falcon stuffed animal. You playfully roll your eyes at the gift, but reach for it with your free hand. Bucky starts to stir, so Sam gives you a kiss on the forehead and heads for the door again. “Tinman’s whipped.”

The first thing you notice when you glance at Bucky again is his hair. He cut it all off when you were gone. As much as you loved his luscious locks and thought he was hot with them, he’s undeniably sexy with the short hairstyle. “You cut your hair,” Bucky immediately wakes up the rest of the way at your voice, ocean blue eyes staring into yours. “It looks good on you.”

“You could have died,” his voice exasperated. “And the first thing you mention is my hair. I’ve been worried sick, (Y/N)!”

“I was fine,” you roll your eyes, trying not to think of just how close to death you came. “I’m fine now.” 

“Next mission I get to call the shots,” he grumbles. “I’m not having the woman I love almost die for me again.”

“I love you too Buck,” you ignore the fact that he didn’t mean for you to hear his confession. “Why else would I be willing to die for you?”

He shoots out of his seat, eyes wide as he stares down at you. You push up to a sitting position, moving to the side of the bed, motioning for Bucky to lay beside you. He seems to debate with himself about whether he should or not, before finally laying down and gently pulling you into his arms. You crane your neck up to look into his eyes, he leans down and your lips meet timidly at first. It quickly turns into a slow loving kiss, the two of you wanting to prolong for as long as you can. You reach a hand up, caressing his face before slipping it through his now short locks.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​ @mrs-malfoy-always​

[teddy06writes]

The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)  

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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

The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage. 

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.  

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!” 

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.” 

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.” 

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?” 

Niki nodded. 

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?” 

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room. 

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.” 

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...” 

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair. 

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.” 

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...” 

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!” 

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...” 

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle. 

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,” 

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.” 

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced. 

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.” 

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.” 

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!” 

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly. 

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair,  “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.” 

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.” 

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.” 

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!” 

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!” 

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!” 

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?” 

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again. 

“(y/n)!” 

~~

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!” 

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space. 

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...” 

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!” 

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...” 

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner. 

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......” 

~~

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory. 

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways. 

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance. 

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.” 

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted. 

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene. 

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage. 

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!” 

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped. 

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...” 

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak. 

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!” 

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-” 

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck. 

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted. 

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat. 

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos. 

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.” 

~~

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed. 

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.” 

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!” 

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!” 

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!” 

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately. 

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....” 

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted. 

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly. 

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!” 

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap. 

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried. 

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!” 

“With every breath?” 

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!” 

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face!  in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!” 

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!” 

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!” 

“(y/n), (y/n)!”  Sapnap exclaimed. 

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night. 

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?” 

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.” 

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.” 

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.” 

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly. 

 “All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted. 

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.” 

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.” 

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?” 

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.” 

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.” 

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?” 

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly. 

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!” 

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed. 

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!” 

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house. 

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.” 

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away. 

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed. 

~~

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance. 

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress. 

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.” 

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?” 

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror. 

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.” 

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom. 

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you. 

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood. 

“...far from my far reaching eyes.” 

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed. 

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.” 

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream. 

Dream beckoned you forward again,  “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself. 

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!” 

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!”  Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!” 

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...” 

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.” 

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream. 

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.” 

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!” 

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back. 

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.” 

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!” 

~~

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

~~

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?” 

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck. 

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet. 

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).” 

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!” 

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.  

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.” 

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled. 

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.” 

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled. 

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.” 

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well. 

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back. 

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.” 

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground. 

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!” 

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel. 

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!” 

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled. 

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring. 

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!” 

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear. 

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”

[karmasuna]

Headcanons for Bakugou, shinsou and a character of your choice where they like a foreign aka English speaking reader and they try to keep up being nice in Japanese but they overhear them talking to their friends from home and they're louder, more crass, and a lot more energetic and talking as if they're on their last 3 brain cells if you know what I mean? Maybe the guys overhear how good looking they are or how cool? They should know enough English to get a gist

ahh i accidentally went down the thirst road instead of crackhead really aha i’m so sorry if it isn’t what you wanted, but i had a lot of fun writing this so thank you for the request (^^;)

warnings: implied smut, swearing 

Bakugo Katsuki

○ He doesn't really talk to you that much, but he did know of your existence and acknowledged you and knew you were strong

○ When you did interact with him though, you would usually speak with with more of a formal tone and you didn’t use much slang or anything

○ Although your first language wasn’t Japanese, you still insisted on communicating with your classmates only in Japanese so you could practice more

○ And you only knew enough to communicate with them and didn’t really know a lot of casual words to express your emotions properly

○ That gave off the illusion that you were a very polite and timid person

○ So when one time he walks past your room and hears you chatting loudly with your friends he’s shocked 

○ You seemed so much more cheery and lively when you were speaking in your native language

○ Bakugo couldn’t help but become interested in what you were really like when you could express yourself well

○ He comes up with the bright idea of asking you to tutor him in English

○ Of course you’re suspicious, since his English grade was just s few points shy of yours and you knew his English wasn’t that bad

○ He insists on it anyways, saying he needed more speaking practice

○ So you agree, and every now and then he would barge into your room and demand for you to start talking only in English

○ The first few times he had come you were a nervous wreck since Bakugo is scary and that’s a fact

○ But eventually you get used to it and start to loosen up, him being the only person who you spoke English who was physically with you, so of course you’d have a lot of emotions to spill that you normally couldn’t express through Japanese

○ And it was right as Bakugo was about to once again barge in to your room when he overheard your conversation with your friends on the phone

○ Hearing his name being mentioned in your conversation makes him just stop right before he was about to come in, interested to hear what you had to say about him

○ He quietly opens the door just a little, hoping to be able to catch your words

○ And he’s very surprised when he hears you start absolutely gushing about him, talking quietly about how hot you thought he was and how you’d totally “let him tie you up and step on you”

○ The blonde understands every word that comes out of your word separately but it takes him a bit to figure out what you were talking about

○ But once he connects the dots he can’t stop the huge smirk spreading across his face when he realizes that you’re absolutely thirsting over him with your friends

○ He lets you have your fun, waiting until you ended your call before coming in to your room

○ You acted no different around him, greeting him like normal and like you weren't totally lusting over his waistline just mere minutes ago

○ He plays along with you for a bit, waiting for you to get comfortable before catching you off guard with his next statement

○ “So you want me to tie you up and step on you huh, you nasty girl,” he says calmly and totally out of the blue, turning you into a panicked, blushing mess as he watched you try and fail to come up with an excuse with amusement in his eyes

○ And that’s the story of how your boyfriend discovered the first of your many kinks and he totally steps on you later that night

 Shinso Hitoshi

○ Shinso would get to know you over your shared love over video games, and he quickly notices how you became a totally different person when you were gaming with your friends and talking to them in English than when you were talking in Japanese at school

○ And he would occasionally tease you about it, saying some less-than-elegant things that you said when you were speaking in English back to you when you were at school and making you embarrassed

○ You know how people sometimes say that someone becomes a totally different person when they’re using another language? That was you

○ Only the purple-haired boy would know of all potty mouth when you were talking in English, since no one else would believe him since you always seemed so timid and polite when you were speaking in Japanese

○ So this man would try to get evidence to prove you weren’t as pure and innocent as you looked 

○ And as luck would have it you leave your phone unlocked when you get up to go to the bathroom while you having one of you regular gaming sessions with him

○ He can’t help but peek over at your screen, and he doesn’t know if he should be surprised or sad you what you had typed to your friend

○ Sure enough, there was all the profanity he was hoping to get physical evidence of, but the topic of your conversation was something he wasn’t sure he should take a photo of because sure he wasn’t the nicest guy, but he also happened to have a crush on you and didn’t want to ruin your life

○ In your texts you were talking about how you would pay to suck “his” dick and touch “his” abs, whoever “he” was

○ He’s kind of hurt to know that you had your eyes on a guy already, but it’s not like he’s surprised since there were so many hot guys in U.A

○ What he wasn’t expecting was the next text from your friend that made his heart speed up as he read it

○ “i mean, he’s already next to u so just go for it lol what kinda guy wouldn’t want to get his dick sucked lmao”

○ It didn’t take him any time to figure out that you were talking about him in your texts, and he’s more than happy about his little discovery, quickly turning back to his console as you come back from your bathroom break

○ And you continue the match you were having with him

○ Just as you got the upper hand and he was about to lose to you he pulls his last card to make you lose - whoever lost would have to pay for takeout and he wasn’t about to cough up twenty dollars to feed your food addiction

○ “Ten dollars and I’ll let you suck my dick,” he says calmly as his character continued to fight yours on the screen and you drop your own console in shock, and your character is defeated in no time as your brain short circuits

○ “Don’t act all innocent Y/N, I would've totally let you do it if you’d just spoke up earlier.”

○ You end up not only paying for takeout but you also lose ten dollars that night 👀

[mxvladdy]

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao 

Prompt:  traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically.  It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?”   You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”  

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

[tourist-in-teyvat]

Hello! I saw your matchup rules and it seems like fun! Would it be alright to ask for all three? If not, that’s perfectly fine, you can pick whichever you think would be the most fun for you to write, since that’s what’s most important overall, don’t overwhelm yourself ^^;

Vison:

Trying to organize this the best I can lol, but it’s kinda difficult when I don’t understand the tumblr ask controls, so sorry about that- Anyway, my MBTI type is INFP, although I’ll admit that I lost interest in and stopped researching the types after I figured out which one I was, so I’m not entirely sure what that means (at least assuming I’m remembering the result right, my memory isn’t the best so it’s entirely possible I’m wrong but I don’t feel like taking the test again lol-). I’m not the best at describing myself, but I’ve been told that I’m nice, smart, and funny. I’ve also been told I’m optimistic, but I personally thought I was pessimistic but eh who knows at this point. I’ve also been told I’m introverted I guess?? I’m really terrible at describing myself beyond what people tell me I’m sorry ahhh- I really want to do something to help people, if that counts as an ambition, but there’s really only so much I can do myself. I’m trying to work to become something in the entertainment industry, both because I like doing that and making people laugh, and because it’s easier to start charity fundraisers if you have some sort of following, which most often stems from those fields of work. I mainly want to help people who the world has sort of like betrayed if that makes sense, like homeless people who can’t get a job to stop being homeless BECAUSE they’re homeless, kids who are mistreated for literally just existing, those kinds of things. Worst case scenario I’ll just like start a revolution or something lol. (Only half joking- I WILL do that if I feel I have to. Watch out government I’m comin for ya lmao-) For challenges I usually try to fix the problem without people really knowing I fixed the problem, or the way that’s easiest. If I can’t do either of those for whatever reason I won’t do it normally, I’m going to do it in the most unreasonably over the top way because I think it’s funny. I don’t really handle gifts the best, unfortunately. My first thought if it’s not for like a specific event is “what do they want is this a trap-” but if it’s for something I skip that step and go right into “why did you spend money/time on me I’m so sorry-”. I don’t really feel happiness 90% of the time for whatever reason even though I am grateful, but it doesn’t seem like I am because I’m just sitting there like “I should be hyped right why do I feel nothing that’s weird am I broken???” Yeah idk either.

Character:

What kind of matchup it is I will leave entirely up to you, I honestly don’t mind either way. If you choose platonic, gender doesn’t matter to me, but if it’s romantic I’m asexual but I prefer guys. If you really want to write romantic and a girl though I don’t really care, be free lol. I don’t really go out of my way to interact with people. I only initiate interaction with someone I’m not already friends with if I need to talk to them to make my life easier, like if we’re assigned to work on the same thing together or they’re my best bet on getting the information I need. The issue is then they have to be like really persistent because i have ✨~Trust Issues~✨™️ so I’m immediately suspicious that they’re trying to mock me in some way, or are planning something against me, which I mean I guess can be the same thing but whatever. Once I’m relatively comfortable though I’m really loud and hate being serious. That can also cause some issues because my sense of humor is usually almost complet nonsense to anyone who isn’t me (or who shares my sense of humor) or relatively dark. Because of that, I really value people who can just roll with my jokes, because that’s honestly one of my favorite things to do and not many people can do that. I also usually like people who are confident since like thats the only way we’re probably going to interact at the start and also they can ask people for things for me lol. I can’t stand people who can’t understand what I’m trying to tell them when I’ve already tried to make it as simple as possible, doubt my knowledge on something I just told them I know about, or have absolutely no respect for anyone that isn’t them. I also don’t like people touching me (others don’t really like it either as my instinct reaction is usually to hit them before I realize what’s going on-), but I can tolerate it if it’s within my strangely specific boundaries, I know it’s coming, and I actually know and like the person. Then and only then, will my response not be to strike them down lol- I also have the bad habits of often accidentally rambling (like I’m doing right now in all of these replies wow so meta-), interrupting people when I have a thought (I try to say it before I forget, realize other people are still talking and try to shut up but I physically can’t until I finish the sentence), or lying to get out of situations I don’t think will end well for me (be it mildly embarrassing or we all die lol). So yeah that’s not great but it happens I guess.

Team:

Usually in groups I always somehow end up being the leader even though I really don’t want to and nobody really verbally agrees on it, it just happens. I always respond to what weapon I would use with now since I always play as bow users in games that have characters that use bows, but I think I would actually use a sword or a claymore were I to be put in that situation. Catalysts aren’t real so I’m not including them in my process of elimination, I’m extremely nearsighted so I doubt I’d be able to aim the bow well, I don’t understand polearms no matter how hard I try just like how do you hold it what-, so my best bet is probably a claymore or sword. Not sure which one though, but if I had to pick I’m not physically the fastest so the claymore makes more sense taking that into account. Yeah I don’t work in groups often idk what else to say for this specifically that I haven’t said in the others uhhhhhhhh-

Sorry this got so long, my bad lol. If you don’t want to respond I totally get it, and since this is so long it also makes sense if you want to not respond, so you can just indicate that it’s this one with this emoji if you want (✨). Sorry again and I hope you have a nice day! :)

If someone else had the same thought and wants to use ✨ that’s fine (wouldn’t be the first time) so if that happens you can use 🐀 as a backup lol. (BET NOBODY WILL USE THAT H A H I WIN jk lol-)

Vision: “Justice flows across the water’s surface.”  

> You feel a cool and soothing mist settle on your skin as a deep blue glow draws your attention to your hands. A hydro vision, it’s silver casing glimmering in the visions’ light. It seems your kind nature and your need to help others has granted you a hydro vision. How you wield this vision is completely up to you. 

Character: Thoma (romantic/platonic)

> You strike me as the type of person Thoma would get along with. Being born and raised in Mondstat, he keeps that relaxed and cheery aura around himself while in Inazuma. He’s got a keen eye for people and their character, and adapts to whoever he’s talking to. He would want to get to know you as soon as he caught wind of you. He’s energetic, but respectful, so you won’t have to worry about boundaries being pushed at all. And you certainly won’t have to worry about him dismissing your ideas. He wouldn’t have the job he has now if he didn’t learn to communicate with others and hear what they have to say as well. And believe it or not, he wouldn’t find your dark humor off-putting at all.

Team: Lisa, Kazuha, Bennett

> Being a hydro claymore user, I can see you being the main dps in this team dynamic. I feel as if Lisa’s electro would offer excellent super-conduct moves. and Kazuha being a support/sub dps would also compliment the team nicely. Bennett would also offer a nice addition to the team with his ult, making this a well rounded team. As for how the team dynamic goes? That’s entirely up to you 😉 You are the leader after all. 

[therealvalkyrie]

Accidental

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Our lovely reader gets injured on her morning run and Steve comes to her rescue, leading her into a life she never had the courage to dream of.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: injuries, mentions of blood and head trauma, fluff, eventual smut.

AN: So. This is the first fic I’ve ever put on the internet and I’m actually vv nervous lmao. But I’m proud of it and I plan to write more of this story and inject some ~plot~ and ~romance~ and things, so yeah! It’s set vaguely pre-Infinity War-era, in New York with our regular cast of Avengers, plus some (eventual) special guests. Hope you enjoy:) ~val

--

The early morning sun casts a pale light on the running path ahead of her, although it does little to warm freezing fingers. She’s lost in her head, breathily humming the lyrics of a song she heard last night as her feet pound on frost-covered dirt.

She feels good. Light. Unburdened from the usual stress of city living. Early March means the pond next to the trail glistens in the sun, half iced-over, as she picks up the pace coming around a corner.

It happens fast, with a sharp jab to her side from the handlebar of a passing bike and a hot, sharp pain to her knee. She’s stumbling, clutching her side, one hand out to catch the fall, suddenly stopped short as head connects with tree. She slams against the hard ground and rolls to her back, eyes wide and panicked against the pain in her knee and head. Breathing fast, too fast, the frosty air no longer makes her feel alive. Instead, it constricts the lungs and makes her head feel light.

“Hey, are you okay?” A face appears in her field of vision against a canopy of leafless boughs. It, too, takes her breath away. Piercing blue eyes and flaxseed-blonde hair stun her into silence for a moment. When she doesn’t respond, he utters a soft “hey” again.

“Oh, I, uh, yeah, I think I’m good, I just, uh, what happened?”

“You were hit, and then you fell. Here, let me help you.”

Words won’t go in the right order in her mind as he helps her sit up with large, gentle hands. Immediately, she cries out against a sharp pain in her skull, pressing palms into her eyes. “Ow, fucking fuck!”

“Whoah, there, no need for the language,” he chuckles. “I think you hit your head.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” As the pain dulls, she squints her eyes open to look again at her savior. Her brain hadn’t been deceiving her; the man kneeling by her side is undeniably gorgeous, dressed in a muscle-hugging workout shirt and running pants that show off his incredible physique. Focus, she thinks, shaking her head and wincing when it brings a tidal wave of nausea. “Did, um, I mean, is the biker okay?”

The man glances over his shoulder and she follows his gaze to where the biker is brushing dirt from his pants. He appears unscathed and casts a guilty look in her direction before darting across the path to join them. 

“A-are you okay? I am so, so sorry, I must not have been paying attention.” He leans halfway down, hands on his knees, as though he doesn’t really want to be part of their little group.

“Yeah, I, um, think I’ll be fine?” What’s meant to be a statement comes out as a question.

“She hit her head,” inserts blondie, who’s eyeing the biker with some contempt. “And it looks like the chain caught her knee, too.”

Confused as to what he’s talking about, she looks down at her leg and gasps. The blonde man is holding what looks like a formerly white, now blood-stained, sweatshirt to a pretty significant gash trailing from her kneecap down her calf. 

“Noooo,” she moans. “Those leggings were on sale. And your sweatshirt! ” She’s frustrated and starting to register the pain in her leg and side. With a groan, she slumps back against the tree and tenderly feels the growing lump on her hand. The rough tree bark must have broken skin because her fingertips are red with blood when she pulls them away.

The two men are talking to each other, saying something about responsibility and police report. She doesn’t tune back in until the biker walks away back across the path.

The blonde man turns back to her, tucking his phone back into a pocket. “Don’t worry, I got his information. In case you want to file a report. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” She gives her name and sticks her hand out. He awkwardly shakes it with his left one, as his right was still holding the fabric to her bleeding leg.

“So, how bad is it?” She winces in anticipation of the answer and peers at her wound.

“You’ll be alright, but you should go to the hospital. Your leg definitely needs stitches and I think you have a concussion.”

“Fucking hell,” she sighs. “I don’t have insurance, I can’t afford a hospital trip.”

Steve looks concerned, glancing down at the bloodied leg and back up to her face. He seems to make a decision. “Well, that’s alright, you can come with me and I’ll get you patched up.”

“What are you, a doctor?” she jokes, disbelieving that this man would go any more out of his way than he already had.

“No, but I have a friend who is. It’s not far from here, and I promise he won’t charge you.” His blue eyes twinkle like he has something hidden, but he looks trustworthy nonetheless.

She takes a moment to weigh her options: go home and try to deal with it herself, risking infection and almost-certain brain damage, or go with this strange man, risking waking up two days from now in an ice bath in some warehouse. Fuck it. “Well, okay, that sounds alright. Are you sure your friend isn’t going to chop me up and sell my organs on the black market?”

He breaks out in a wide grin and openly laughs. “No, no, I can promise you he’s legit. Don’t worry, you’ll see. Can you stand?”

“I think so, let me just--” she cuts off her sentence and gropes around in her pockets for something to tie the sweatshirt to her wound. “Got it!” She produces a rubber exercise band from a jacket pocket and passes it to the man, who carefully secures the sweatshirt to her wound.

“Alright, here we go.” Steve crouches next to her and winds her arm around his shoulders, securing his around her waist. With his help and one hand on the tree, she finds herself suddenly standing.

“I’m not sure I can bend my knee, so just don’t let go,” she warns in a nervous almost-whisper and grips him tighter. He is reassuringly solid, and she takes a moment to mentally thank the stars that someone was around to help her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, sweetheart.” The pet name makes her flush, and she focuses on the path in front of her rather than acknowledging it.

Slowly and patiently, the pair hobbles all the way to the end of the trail, which abruptly leaves the peace of Central Park and opens onto the busy New York streets. By this time she’s sweating and uncomfortable and somehow also freezing, the pain alternating between stiffness in her leg and nausea in her head.

“Why don’t we take a rest. I can call someone to pick us up.” Steve awkwardly guides her to sit on a bench at the edge of the park.

“Grand idea,” she grunts and stretches her injured leg out in front of her. She breathes a hot breath into her fingerless-gloved hands. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a train. Are you not cold? I kind of stole your sweatshirt.”

Chortling good-naturedly, Steve takes a seat next to her, lounging more gracefully than one would expect for someone so lengthy. “I’m okay, I run naturally hot.”

You sure do, she silently agrees, turning back toward the street. As Steve pulls out his phone to call a ride, she closes her eyes and absorbs the sounds of the city waking up. The day is starting out strange, but at least she’s still in familiar territory. He’s talking to someone he must know well, as he’s teasing whoever’s on the other end of the line. After a moment more of listening to the half-conversation, she sinks back into her thoughts.

Please, god, don’t let him be a serial killer, I’m too young to die. I’ll do anything, I’ll donate to charity or adopt a dog or stop being a slut, anything, I swear, as long as he doesn’t --

“So, do you live near here?” The question jolts her out of a reverie, and she scrambles for the answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, just a couple blocks that way.” She gestures in the direction of her apartment. If he’s a serial killer, I’m dead, she reprimands herself. “And you said you’re not far from here?”

Meeting her slightly hesitant gaze with a steady one, Steve answers, “Yeah, not far, not far. Although I grew up in Brooklyn.”

“No kidding,” she exclaims, a smile finding its way to her face. “Me too! Don’t know what possessed me to move uptown, but here we are.”

He nods in agreement. “I know what you mean. I moved for work, I guess, but I’ve always intended to move back.” 

“What do you do for work?”

This time, he looks at her curiously. “Not to be conceited, but I’m actually surprised you haven’t recognized me yet.” She raises her eyebrows. “But, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough anyway. I’m Steve Rogers, er, Captain America.”

Her head jerks back in surprise and she blinks away another confusing wave of nausea. “Oh! I guess I’ve been so out of it I didn’t notice!”

He laughs at her reaction. “That’s completely fair. But, yeah, that’s why I can get you a doctor.” “That makes a lot more sense,” she nods sagely. “Plus, there’s a significant decrease in the chances you’ll chop me up and sell me for parts.”

“A significant decrease, for sure, I would have to agree.” He mimics her nod and after a beat they both laugh.

Just then, a sleek black car pulls up to the sidewalk and a man steps out and around the front, and it can’t be, can it? Oh my god, it is--

“And just who might this be?” Sam Wilson quips, making eye contact with her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Steve rolls his eyes affectionately and stands, moving to open the back of the car

She gives her name with a smirk of her own and moves to stand, but Sam steps forward before she can.

“Please, don’t, Steve tells me you’ve hurt your leg. The name’s Sam.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it lightly, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.

“I know,” she quips. “The Falcon, right?”

“The one and only! I feel honored, Stevie told me you didn’t recognize him at all.”

“I was preoccupied at the time, as it happens.” You steal a glance at his outfit and stifle a giggle at his Captain America pajama pants. “Nice PJs.”

“I’ll have you know I crawled out of bed an hour early for you,” Sam joked, pointing an accusing finger at her. “But Steve says he met a beautiful woman in need of assistance and my inner gentlemen overpowered me.”

“Sam, stop flirting with the lady and help me.” Steve is smiling as he returns to her side, but she thinks she can see a hint of envy in his blue eyes. “Can you stand again?” he asks her lowly, stooping down to wind an arm around her waist again.

“Yes, I think so,” she replies and grips Steve’s broad shoulders and Sam’s outstretched elbow. “Oops, nope, I regret that.” Her head swims and swoops, good knee buckling as soon as she’s upright.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” And in a heartbeat, Steve has scooped her into his arms and against his chest, one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees.

“Oh,” she breathes, instinctively gripping his shoulders and blushing. He crosses to the car and gently maneuvers her into the back seat.

“Now, I’ll be right up there and it’ll only be a few minutes. We’re not too far away,” Steve reassures before closing the door and sliding into the passenger seat. “All right,” she says to no one in particular, settling her bad leg across the seats.

The ride to Avengers Tower isn’t too long, and it’s spent listening to the two super-soldiers’ easy banter as she leans a cheek against the cool window glass. The low hum of what must be one of Tony Stark’s luxury vehicles lulls her into a half-stupor. She can feel her eyes drooping, heavy, heavier until she slips uneasily into unconsciousness.

The two men don’t realize their passenger has stopped adding in the occasional witticism until a direct question goes unanswered.

Steve calls out her name, then, “You all right back there?” He twists to look back at her and is seized with panic when he sees her pallid form slouched uncomfortably against the door.

“Sam, floor it, she’s out!” He turns fully and reaches back to shake her shoulder, but she only flops limply back.

“Cool it, big guy, we’re here,” Sam coolly reassures but pulls into the garage fast and haphazardly.

The wheels have barely stopped turning and Steve is out of the door, throwing open the back seat. He is panicked and shaky and guilty, thinking she must have lost too much blood and definitely has a concussion, should have kept her awake.

“Hey, hey, wake up, I’ve got you.” He pulls her out of the backseat and into his arms, carrying her bridal style to the elevator bank.

Sam is a step behind him, jamming the “up” button while barking orders in a phone, hopefully to Bruce.

Steve is shaking with anxiety, willing the elevator to hurry the fuck up already. It arrives, and the men slip past a confused intern and into the sleek elevator.

“FRIDAY, medbay,” Steve orders the omnipresent AI.

“Of course, sir. Doctor Banner has asked that you meet him in emergency care.”

[ofgreyskull]

“ sometimes in the morning i am petrified & can't move awake, but cannot open my eyes & the weight is crushing down on my lungs, i know i can't breathe & hope someone will save me this time. “

adora she-ra | 23 | lesbian | bartender | just wants to be loved

  ─  the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of FLORENCE PUGH  -  but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of PLANNING A BEST FRIENDS ROADTRIP TO RESTORE MAGIC TO THE UNIVERSE strikes you.  perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself  -  you’re ADORA,  a TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD BARTENDER whose virtue lies in your + STRENGTH & + FEARLESSNESS, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - BLUNT & - SELF SACRFICING,  and you’re associated with THE SOUND OF A SWORD BEING DRAWN, THE SUN REFLECTING OFF WATER, AN ENDLESS STAR FILLED SKY by those around you.  suddenly,  however,  you’ve found THE SWORD OF PROTECTION on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse,  memories from your life in SHE-RA & THE PRINCESSES OF POWER have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you.  you can almost hear BETTER SON/DAUGHTER by RILO KILEY following in your wake.

canon ( full of spoilers so if you’d like to watch the show i wouldn’t read this part. i’m sorry it’s long, this is mostly for me to go back to if i forget something so really i won’t be offended if no one reads this part lmao )

grew up in the horde since an infant with catra, the two of them were raised by shadow weaver and were best friends.

it wasn’t a great childhood

was told how horrible the princesses were and they were the bad guys, they were always told they were a dangerous threat to etheria.

when she is older adora got promoted to force captain which she was extremely happy about.

the two of them sneak out and adora gets lost in the whispering woods. there she comes across the sword of protection and starts having visions when she touches it and it knocks her out.

her and catra return back to the fright zone but adora leaves again that night to go back to the sword.

there she meets bow and glimmer and they fight for the sword. neither of them trust her bc she’s a horde solider and adora ends up getting captured by them.

she learns from bow and glimmer how truly awful the horde is and how they destroy cities, lands, and hurt innocent people.

with the sword she transforms into she-ra ( and is v much horrified about it and the fact she’s a princess) that night when trying to fight off some robot bug.

she also discovers light hope that night too

bow and glimmer take adora to a village that later gets destroyed by the horde and catra appears driving one of the tanks that wrecked the village

adora tries explaining how horrible the horde actually is to catra, how they’ve been manipulated by shadow weaver and hordak their whole lives and tries convincing her to go with her and leave the horde together. catra says no and that begins the first heartbreak adora ever experienced. ( rip that really broke her heart )

the two of them then become enemies ( cue the ‘hey adora’ )

adora as she-ra also accidentally transformed a horse into a unicorn, he’s able to talk, fly, and they’re now linked and he is her steed. his name is swift wind.

adora is now part of the rebellion, lives in bright moon, and the best friend squad gets the princess alliance back together

for a while whenever her and catra would go against each other she would try to convince her to come with her

the fighting between the horde and the rebellion goes on for like two years i believe

still v upset and hurt about catra not being with her but tries not to show it

shadow weaver ends up joining the rebellion 

catra captures adora and wants to use her sword as the key to open the portal and she almost destroys etheria completely.

adora wakes up back at the horde with catra and with her memory completely wiped 

something doesn’t feel right to her and she’s losing track of time and her memories start coming back to her.

reality starts falling apart and adora is trying to reach the portal to close it and save everyone and etheria ( also she has to fight corrupted catra rip )

once she finds the portal she learns she has to sacrifice herself in order to close it and save everyone, but glimmer’s mom does it instead because the world needs she-ra. the portal closes, but adora blames herself for angella’s death

because of what catra did adora completely cuts off catra and stops trying to convince her to join her, not believing things can be the way they used to.

adora learns about the heart of etheria project.

adora tries to stop the heart of etheria activation but glimmer want to activate it thinking it will help them defeat the horde she helps scorpia activate her runsestone. adora goes to light hope to confront her about it around the same time and light hope uses she-ra to begin activating it.

adora learns she’s not from etheria, but instead from eternia, she’s a first one and was sent through a portal as a baby by light hope to become she-ra and complete the heart of etheria project

once the planet is balanced light hope portals etheria out of despondos and back into the wider universe. this also means horde prime and his army can arrive.

adora as she-ra is able to fight the activation process and deactivates it, but in the process breaks the sword of power and believes she isn’t able to transform into she-ra anymore.

adora now has to relearn how to fight without she-ra like back when she was in the horde but it’s extremely difficult and she didn’t realize jsut how much she has come to rely on her power.

horde prime’s army begins attacking etheria, they also have captured glimmer and catra.

adora, bow, and entrapta go in the ship to rescue glimmer from horde prime’s ship.

while in space they receive a message from catra telling them she’s going to send glimmer to them and warns her not to come to horde prime’s ship that it’s a trap for her. catra apologizes to adora before sending glimmer her way.

adora becomes intensely worried for catra and doesn’t want to lose her and realizes just how deeply she’s in love with her.

their ship runs out of fuel and they stop at a planet that has the crystals they need for fuel. once there adora uses her inhuman strength as she used to when she was able to turn into she-ra to stop a rock from crashing down and realizes she still has power within her.

they go to horde prime to save catra.

once in horde prime’s ship that’s when she discovers her under horde prime’s mind control. 

after being surrounded by horde prime’s clones adora is desperate to save catra and get them both out of there. she ends up being able to transform into she-ra and manifest a new sword.

she fights off the clones with catra unconscious in her arms and they return back to the ship.  

once she instructs the ship to go home she goes over to catra and lifts her in her arms and heals her and she can’t stop worrying and checking up on catra the whole way home.

the two of them are back to being close and flirting with each other and it’s so obvious to the ppl around them how much they love each other.

once home they realize just how long they’ve been gone bc most of etheria is under horde prime’s mind control ( including some of the princesses ) and is being taken over with his clones.

shadow weaver comes up with a plan for adora to save the planet, despite it being incredibly dangerous and having to sacrifice herself adora agrees to it much to catra’s dislike. but adora will do anything to save people even if it means getting hurt or dying.

adora accepts the heart’s fail safe and bonds it to her soul to carry it to the heart to etheria

catra ends up leaving in the middle of the night not wanting to watch adora sacrifice herself, but adora catches her and begs her to stay that she needs her. catra leaves and adora cries out for her ( my girl is heartbroken again )

adora heads to the heart of etheria to use the fail safe once there she’s bombarded with visions of her past self  along with horde prime getting into her head and sending a monster for her to fight.

adora is wounded by the monster and cannot fight and can barely walk. catra appears and helps adora by trying to take out the monster. shadow weaver appears as well to help adora get to the heart.

they make it to the heart but adora hears catra scream and goes back to try to save her.

shadow weaver steps in to fight the monster herself and seals the opening for catra and adora to not come through. they have to stand back and watch as she sacrifices herself for them.  

they go to the heart together

she is unable to transform into she-ra bc of horde prime’s virus and tries to convince catra to leave so she can do this on her own, not wanting catra to watch her die. catra ends up staying with her while she uses the fail safe.

adora become unconscious and is on the verge of dying. during this she has a vision of her wish it’s her’s and catra’s future where they’re married. the vision is then interrupted by horde prime.  

she’s dying and while unconscious she hears and sees catra and tries fighting to stay alive, it isn’t until catra tells her she loves her that she’s able to succeed in staying alive.

she wakes up in catra’s arms and tells her she loves her too AND THEY KISS

the failsafe works and saves the planet right before her friends and etheria is about to be destroyed

adora as she-ra appears where horde prime is and destroys his ship and heals the planet, as well as gets rid of horde prime for good.

the best friend squad ( which now includes catra ) agree on going on another mission to bring back magic to the universe

in alucard

   growing up in alucard wasn’t easy for adora, she was in the foster care system since she was a baby and knows nothing about her parents or why they gave her up. she remained in a group home with other kids in the system, watching as some of the kids she became friends with got adopted into families while she remained in the home. the home was strict and adora is a stickler for rules so she always did what was told of her, she became a ‘favorite’ to the house parents. because of that she never got in trouble/punished when she occasionally broke a rule or two with the other kids. instead she would get numerous lectures about how much better she was than the others, how she shouldn’t follow them, and what great things she could do if she keeps listening to the house parents. adora didn’t understand it at them time, what they meant or why she was the favorite, but she did like attention and the feeling of a ‘parent’ looking out for her. she didn’t realize until she was older that the house parents were grooming her to be exactly who they wanted her to be. adora herself never knew what she wanted to be or who she truly was because she always followed what the house parents told her to be, always did what was told of her. all she wanted was to be loved.

   after her eighteenth birthday she was out of the system, her house parents urged her to join the military. they told her it would be perfect for her because of how strong and how immaculate of a fighter she is. the more adora thought about it the more she realized she didn’t want that for herself, she didn’t want to hurt people. that was when adora made her first choice for herself, she decided to leave the home and begin her life without the influence of her house parents. she jumped from job to job for a few years, trying to make any money she could to be able to afford a place to live. she finally settled on being a bartender, even though it’s not the job she had dreamed for herself she gets paid well and it’s enough until she figures out what she’s good for. 

powers/abilites

transformation - is able to transform into she-ra and is able to transform the sword into various objects

superhuman strength

superhuman agility

healing powers

animal transformation

energy blast

aura generation

animal magic

sword summoning

space survival

expert at hand to hand combat

weaknesses

the data disk - a first one’s tech that is able to corrupt and control any other first ones tech that comes into contact with it or whatever it controls. when the sword is infected with it  while adora is she-ra she enters a violent, berserk rage. she incapable to telling who is a friend or an enemy and goes after anyone/anything in sight. take the sword away from her and destroying the disk is the only way to stop the corruption. once the sword is taken adora falls into an inebriated state and she doesn’t remember what happened.

unclear mind - when her mind is unfocused or full of doubt she can’t transform into she-ra

traits/personality

brave

loyal

indomitable will

a leader

stubborn

competitive

rule follower

needs a plan for everything

connections

catra: ex-girlfriend, ended on bad terms, but still loves her 

hmu on discord if you wanna plot !! 

[skyflicker]

always with me (amasai week day six)

written for @amasaiweek2020 hosted by @toxicisnotapineapple and @storyflight! last fic i have for the week and the last installment in the ‘shuichi gets over rantaro’s death’ series (lmao). questionable ships ahead-

but seriously, i can’t write fluff lmao. and it’s another pretty narrative piece but i hope y’all still like and enjoy it! my ao3 is @silveryyy and this fic is up there, as are all my other ones, and i’ll be posting other fics of mine up there soon, so do stick around and stay tuned, there’s a lot of me y’all haven’t seen yet!

-

Shuichi’s hand lingers on the doorbell as he waits for someone to answer. 

The mansion is huge, and as big as the family is, there are only two maids, so it takes quite some time until anyone comes to open the door. It’s quiet all around- the house is in the suburb areas of Sapporo, and not many people of similar status come out at night. At this time of the night, Shuichi is the only one on these streets, alone. 

Moonlight smiles down at him, like a gossamer veil of pearl-like periwinkle silk hanging over the area, stray strands of the light winding around the lamp posts and illuminating the rooftops of the mansions. It casts a soft ivory sheen over the greenery lining the streets, the daisies shining a lilac colour as Night’s onyx cloak of darkness attempts to camouflage it. The tar-like fog of Night reaches towards Shuichi, clouds of billowing obsidian mist flooding towards him, starting to fill him with anxiety and doubt, but he’s barely affected- he knows that his best friend is always with him no matter what, and the thought alone comforts him and strengthens him against the attacks of darkness.

Snow is falling from the sky as the ever cold and unforgiving wind whips around Shuichi with its iced daggers and snowy blades, beating relentlessly at his face, and he holds his coat closer as his scarf spins around, tossed by the wind. Despite the cold it brings, the snowflakes are graceful, twirling in an elegant dance as they land lightly on the flowers, on the grass, covering the cobblestones on the pavement, leaving piles of alabaster fluffiness on the sides of the road: it leaps everywhere, coating the roofs and falling, like dimmed meteors, the spears of the stars, onto Shuichi’s hands. He shivers from the contact- it’s freezing cold, and he’s not wearing gloves- but he smiles at the serenity of the moment nonetheless. It’s cliche, but he likes watching the snow fall. There’s something mesmerizing about how the droplets of softened ice sway to the rondo of the wind, how they fall almost uniformly but there’s a natural irregularity to it that makes it ever so interesting to watch. People normally think of snow as something beautiful and soft and lovely until they come into contact with it and dismiss it as annoying, but Shuichi doesn’t. He just loves it, loves the silence it seems to naturally bring, loves the tranquility of its nature. 

There’s a poem he really likes, Quieter than Snow, by Bertie Dorherty, that he heard when he was in school. It’s a poem he always thinks about when he sees snow (which is rather often after he moved to Sapporo), even though he knows the poem isn’t actually about snow and is actually rather eerie. He’s never been much of a literature person, being more of a science kid than language, but Kaede, and surprisingly Maki both studied the subject as an elective, and the latter taught him the poem during one of their study sessions with Kaito. It’s somewhat creepy, in his opinion, and sends shivers down his spine, but it’s beautifully written, portrays silence and the strange feelings of feeling alone in somewhere that shouldn’t be, perfectly. The same silence always comes with the falling of snow, and even though Shuichi knows snow absorbs sound and that’s why everything seems so quiet around it, he can’t help but think of the poem.

It takes two minutes until the doorbell is answered. The oakwood doors creak open as Shuichi looks over, and lets a smile spread across his face as Sora opens the door, her face lighting up along with the porch, which is immediately submerged in the light streaming out from the entrance hall.

“Shuichi!” the young woman exclaims, and walks forward to pull the man inside. “We’ve been waiting for you! Sorry it took so long and sorry for leaving you in the cold, Akira was crying and everyone was fussing over her and all…”

“It’s no problem,” the man assures her, and her face relaxes. Shuichi changes into his indoor shoes- he smiles as he sees the shoes with his name clipped on them. He doesn’t live here with Rantaro’s sisters, but he’s over so often that they’ve prepared everything for him in case he drops over anytime.

“Everyone else is in the living room, I think, you’ll probably find whoever you’re looking for there.” Sora smiles at him, and then disappears into a corridor, no doubt off to the sewing room- Shuichi remembers Rantaro describing her as the most creative person he knew, and Shuichi completely agrees. Sora is an avid fan of textiles and sewing, and works as a fashion designer- she’s rather famous here in Japan, actually, and her designs are always popular. He’s seen some of them himself, and found himself extremely impressed- it’s like she weaves her outfits out of strands of moonlight and threads of sunlight. Naoko told him once that she recognized the necklace he wears upon seeing him because of the string the sea glass is strung on, and that it’s one of Sora’s special designs, woven out of the finest silks into a durable pearl-coloured string, and simply was irreplicable. 

Despite how large the mansion is- Shuichi finds himself constantly surprised with the vastness of the Amami fortune no matter how many times he’s seen it in action- he’s been around enough times to know his way around. He finds his way to the living room easily, knocking lightly on the oak doors.

This time, his call is answered fairly quickly. The doors open to someone throwing their arms around him tightly. “Shuichi! We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Minori,” he smiles as he greets Rantaro’s youngest sister, the girl a whole eight years younger than he is. She was three when she was lost, according to Rantaro, and was only found four and a half years ago when she was sixteen. She’s an adult now, and Shuichi feels a pang of guilt in his stomach for not finding her earlier, but he pushes the thought away. “It’s great to see you, too.”

The teenage girl smiles happily as she releases him, and lets him into the room. The living room is vast, with dark chocolate coloured glossy floorboards, and beige pillars with gold swirled in them extend to the tall ceiling metres above him, arching to the middle of the ceiling. On the ceiling itself is a mural of the night sky and all the constellations, which glow in the dark when the lights are off, and a large light shaped like the solar system dangles from it. Further down the room, a carpeted spiral staircase, its handles painted gold and embedded with topaz stones that fracture the light and project tiny rainbows everywhere, leads up to a balcony overlooking the living room, connecting a few rooms together. It’s a gorgeous design, and even if Shuichi’s been here many times over the years since he’s found half of the siblings, which was when this mansion was bought, he still marvels at it every single time.

Rantaro’s sisters are scattered all over the room. In the middle, Ena and Akari are pouring over some drawings as Akari, ever the artist, adds small details to a painting, and in one corner of the room, Hanako is playing Mario Kart with Shiori and Inori on a large screen, and Shuichi watches, smiling, as Shiori crosses the finish line first, letting out a cheer, and her eyes turn to him. She laughs as she waves at him, and calls for her youngest biological sister, who is still behind Shuichi. Minori gives Shuichi’s hand a squeeze before she heads on over to her two biological sisters, who welcome her with hugs, and her second oldest sister. In another corner, Yuki is lounging on the bean bag chairs in the reading corner, back against the shelves overflowing with books, a pile of novels on the ground next to her, and typing away on her computer- Yuki’s a writer and poet, and Shuichi likes talking to her about plots and stories, and her books are always really beautifully written and interesting. She’s talking to Naoko as she types, and the other girl is finally smiling and laughing again, like Rantaro told him she did when she was small. The young woman had been through countless hardships and was even forced to help with numerous kidnappings, and it’d taken them ages to persuade her to come back to Japan. Initially she’d refused, and Shuichi and Amaka were forced to leave without her, but two months later, she’d appeared on the mansion’s doorstep, seeking refuge after deserting her slavers. Amaka had taken her in without a single moment of hesitation, and Shuichi was beyond relieved it had worked out okay. Naoko’s now studying translation, and she’s truly talented in the subject- Shuichi finds himself constantly impressed by her ability to speak fluently in so many different languages.

He’s an only child, Shuichi is, but being with Rantaro’s sister lets him in on the feeling of being an older brother to these lovely young women. They seem to treat him like an older brother too, and even though Shuichi wouldn’t dream of ever replacing Rantaro (and he’s sure the girls won’t either), he feels welcome with them. Like they’re family. Akari calls Shuichi her brother in law, and so do a couple of the others, and even though Shuichi feels vaguely uncomfortable with it- after all, he never had the chance to confess to Rantaro when he was alive- but he grows used to it after a while. 

Some of Rantaro’s sister, like Ena and Hanako, aren’t always home- they stay in where they were lost for half the year or so, reunite with the family they built there while lost, so Shuichi especially enjoys and cherishes these times when they’re all home and the family is (almost) complete. It’s also why he loves the autumn and winter seasons so much- it gives him time to spend with his newfound family. He spends as much time as he can spare with them, gives them what they want, does everything he can for them, for Rantaro’s sake, for their brother who never got the chance to reunite with all of them.

“Shuichi!” he turns to see Kaede appearing at the top of the staircase, her signature bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs and forward. He does the same, and they meet each other in the middle, Kaede reaching to embrace her childhood friend, the closest thing she ever had to a brother in her childhood days, and vice versa. 

He’s always found it rather interesting and surprising that Kaede found love in one of Rantaro’s sisters- Amaka, in fact, who’s probably in one of the children’s rooms right now (probably Akira’s , their adopted daughter). It’s like fate always meant for Rantaro and Shuichi to become family, in one way or another. He remembers Rantaro telling him the meaning of the name ‘Amaka’- heaven’s song, and that’s probably what she is to Kaede, who’s a pianist and adores music. She loves her wife a lot, after all- that much is evident, by how Kaede’s eyes light up at the mere sight of Amaka, how she caters to her every need, how she looks at her wife with nothing but adoration.

“Kaede,” he greets her. “What did you call me here for? It’s past nine already.” 

She frowns a little, and gestures at one of the rooms that connect to the balcony. “Your godson wanted to see you. He’s refusing to sleep until you come by.”

Shuichi sighs, but a smile is on his lips. He loves his godson, adores spending time with him. He isn’t surprised this happened, actually- with his mother, Rina, off on a week-long exchange trip to Korea (she’s a teacher in a primary school) and his father accompanying her, and his mother’s twin Riku staying the night at her girlfriend’s, the three year old’s bound to feel scared. He gestures to Kaede to leave it to him, and as Kaede beams and thanks him before heading up to her daughter’s room, he makes his way towards the one of the far left, with its door ajar.

He knocks, and enters his godson’s room. It’s painted baby blue, and photos are hung all over one of the walls, of different countries and the young boy’s twelve aunts, and a few of Shuichi and Kaede and Rantaro. Toys are littered all over the floor, and a white bookcase is built up against one of the corners of the room.

The small boy is curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets, and as Shuichi enters, he looks up, and his face brightens. “Shuichi!” he says in greeting, and he sits down on the bed, smiling.

“Hey, Taro,” he strokes his godson’s hair softly. It was incredibly sweet of Rina to name her son after her deceased brother, and even sweeter of her husband and her to name Shuichi godfather when small Rantaro was born. The boy has his mother’s silky blonde hair that looked just like the manifestation of sunlight, and the cerulean blue eyes Shuichi found ever so familiar (Riku and Rina has the exact same eyes), and even though he doesn’t look like his namesake, Shuichi can see the Rantaro he knew in the young boy, in his quiet thoughtfulness and love of adventure, and Shuichi loves him for who he is. He knows, that up above, in Heaven, Rantaro’s looking down on this child, and smiling.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” the boy says, and Shuichi can see the terror in his eyes, the fear he carries of sleeping without his parents by his side for the first time ever. “I can’t sleep, not without Oka-san here, Shuichi, I want her here with me-”

Shuichi ruffles Rantaro’s hair as he says soothingly, “You know your mother can’t be here with you tonight, Taro… she’ll be back very soon. You know, she’s probably looking at the sky right now, where she is, and wondering if you’re asleep yet, worrying if you’re too scared to sleep alone, or if you miss her too much. Your mother loves you a lot, you know that.”

Rantaro’s cerulean eyes are large, and beautiful, as if they hold miles and miles of oceans in them, but at this moment the waters inside are wild and rogue, waves splashing and crashing down from high up, and they look into Shuichi’s desperately as he leans into his godfather and hugs him tightly. Shuichi hugs back, trying the best he can to comfort the terrified boy.

At last, Rantaro says, his voice muffled by Shuichi’s clothes, “Shuichi, tell me a story.”

He complies, starting to rise to get a storybook from the bookshelf, but Rantaro clutches onto him tightly. “Taro, I can’t get a book if you don’t let go,” he tells the boy softly, but the three year old still holds on tight.

“I don’t want just any other story, Shuichi, I’ve heard most of those books before,” he says, “you read them to me, remember? I want a story about you. About- about Uncle Rantaro.”

Shuichi widens his eyes in surprise, but he smiles, giving in to his godson’s request. He finds himself talking about Rantaro (the one who is his best friend) and him meeting, laughing slightly when he reaches the point where Rantaro waited for him for the entire night just to apologize for something his father did; he talks about how they met up every week at the coffee shop, how they had unintentionally gotten into the same secondary school; he talks about their trips to find Rantaro’s sisters, about his first kiss, about the one time they succeeded and brought Rina home; he finds himself smiling bitterly as he goes onto talking about how Rantaro had died saving Rina in the bus crash, laughing briefly at how he shut himself in, and he tells his godson about how he found his closure. But most of all, he talks about Rantaro as a person, and as he talks he sees his best friend in his mind, with his comforting smile, the constant sadness present in his pretty lemongrass eyes, his windswept, tousled hair, and how he was always so selfless and kind and caring. He finds himself unable to stop a tear from rolling down his cheek as he tells small Rantaro how his namesake cared for his sisters, for everyone around him, and tiny Rantaro listens attentively, engrossed in Shuichi’s stories.

“He died so your mother, and you, could live,” Shuichi tells the boy. “He’d be so happy to see you living today, he’s probably smiling down at you and watching everything you do. He’s always with me, and he’s always with you.”

Rantaro (the young boy, that is) is silent for a moment, and then he says, “why’s the ending so sad?”

Shuichi’s caught off guard, “Huh?”

“Why couldn’t Uncle Rantaro have lived?” the boy asks. “Why did he have to die in the end and make everyone so sad? Why can’t he and you just, I don’t know, live happily ever after?”

Shuichi laughs a little as he pats his godson on the head lightly. “Rantaro, but it is a happy ending.”

The three year old tilts his head, confused, “But he died! You were so upset, and Oka-san was upset, and everyone was sad over it…”

“Happy endings come in all shapes and sizes,” Shuichi says quietly. “Rantaro may have died and left us, but he died protecting his sister, one of the people he loved most. He died protecting your mother, and you, and he achieved his purpose perfectly- look, you and your mother are leading a life that’s full of happiness, see? Your Uncle Rantaro would’ve been so happy if he was here now. Besides, his greatest wish was to find all his sisters, and even if he died before he could see everyone back, they’re all safe and sound now, aren’t they? His death isn’t the end of the story, just the part that shocked everyone, the plot twist that makes the story worth reading. We’re living out the end of the story now. We’re living out his happy ending.”

Shuichi touches the sea glass around his neck. He doesn’t need it anymore, not now, for now, he’s finally letting go, letting the guilt and grief and everything stay in the past. His memories of him are dear, and are important to Shuichi, but Shuichi now knows, now realizes, that he doesn’t need the sea glass to prove to him that Rantaro is there with him.

Because Rantaro isn’t only in the sea glass. He’s everywhere, in his sisters’ smiles and laughter, he’s there in Shuichi’s happiness and there to guide him when times are rough. Rantaro is in his heart, a lamp to guide his way in the dark, the path of moonlight on the sea so Shuichi can pass through safely. Rantaro is there with Shuichi no matter what.

He hesitates, and then unfastens the necklace around his neck. Reaching out to take his godson’s hand, he puts it there and closes his hand gently. “Take this, Rantaro. It belonged to your uncle, to someone I loved very much, and when I was wearing it, I felt his presence with me, and it comforted me and gave me strength when I needed it. But now, it’s time to pass this on. Put it on, and your uncle will always be with you, and he’ll guide your path when you need help, and you’ll never be alone. Remember, when you touch this, that you aren’t alone, and you have me, and your mother and father, and all your aunts.”

Rantaro looks at the necklace, seemingly touched, and he looks up at Shuichi. “Could you help me put it on?” he murmurs, and Shuichi smiles, taking it and easily clasping it around Rantaro’s neck.

“Now go to sleep,” he tells his godson, who smiles and nods.

He stays there after he turns the lights off, watches his godson drift off into the land of dreams, and places his hand over where the sea glass used to be. It feels strangely empty, without the necklace he’d worn for years, but Shuichi’s no longer afraid of the dark. 

“You’re much braver than I remembered,” a voice whispers from the doorway, and Shuichi turns to see Kaede standing there with a smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, and Rantaro would be, too.”

Shuichi stands, and walks out to meet Kaede. They stand on the balcony, overlooking Rantaro’s sisters living out the childhood they lost with each other. “I’m just doing what Rantaro would’ve wanted me to do,” he says. “I’ve found all of his sisters, brought them all home, finished his last wish. Rantaro wouldn’t have wanted me to be stuck in the past, or to never move on after his death. He’d want me to live his ‘happily ever after’ for him, and that’s what I'm doing now.”

Kaede laughs. “And to think that this is the same person who yelled at me when I tried to get him to move on all those years ago,” she teases him. 

“Hey! I was busy being traumatized back then!” he protests, and Kaede ruffles his hair as he ducks away, laughing.

He looks out over the handrails again, and can’t help but smile at the sight of Rantaro’s sisters- his sisters- as they mingle, and live, and write out their own happy endings. They were all once lost, torn apart by fate, but they all rewrote their destinies and managed to reunite.

Now, it’s Shuichi’s turn to rewrite his destiny, to live out his happy ending for Rantaro. He touches the spot where the necklace used to be again, and smiles,

and knows in his heart that Rantaro will always watch over him.

[luccislegs]

Idk, I think it might be bc you're early on in the series/are a new blog? Just a guess, since a lot of people like Ace/Law/Kid or whoever. Anyhow, could I have some headcanons of Sanji with a crush who hides their mouth under a slip-on mask? They were told were told by their village elders that they have a disturbing grin and the mask doubles as a partial disguise while going out. Hope you get more requests soon!

i can appreciate that actually. also if that’s the case i should probably dip lmao i hate having to beg for asks. i do however appreciate you trying to help! also explain to me where you get these ideas bc they are stellar

–

“Hey.”

You jumped a little as a voice sounded from above you. Out of pure habit, you reached up and adjusted your mask, making sure it hadn’t slipped. When you looked up, you found a young man in a straw hat hanging upside down from the lowest branch of the tree you were seated under.

“Hello,” you said hesitantly. He wasn’t blinking as he stared, which would have been unnerving enough, but the straight line frown he wore made the whole of his upside down face downright disturbing. Closing the book in your lap, you prepared to run.

“Why doesn’t your mouth move when you talk?” he asked. His voice was deadpan, with little to no curiosity, which was in opposition to the fact that he had asked you a question that bordered on too personal.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to answer. Maybe it was that he seemed a bit dense, maybe it was the fact that he made you feel normal, but whatever it was, it made you say, “It’s…a mask.”

With that, he flipped out of the tree, landing on his feet in front of you. His mouth stretched into a wide and silly grin, instantly putting you at ease. “Why are you wearing that?” His question, though asked with no malice, set off alarm bells in your head, and you began to shut down.

“That’s none of your business, straw hat. I have to go.” But that wouldn’t be the last you saw of him.

You met the rest of the crew later on in the week, at the same time you found out they were pirates. It didn’t take them long to realize that the villagers seemed to avoid you unless absolutely necessary, and that you wore that mask like it was a defense against them. Each of them asked, at least once, and though you were less frosty than you had been with Luffy, you still made it abundantly clear to them that the topic was off limits.

They took the hint, and took it well, which maybe attributed to why you agreed to join their crew the day they decided to leave port. That, and they didn’t act like you were a freak for wearing it, even though they had only ever seen half of your face. They didn’t pressure you to remove it, to let them see it. They accepted that you may never show them, and invited you anyway.

You didn’t turn around to wave goodbye to anyone on the island, you knew that no one would be there waiting to see you off. It was likely only your imagination, but you thought maybe you could hear the whole island breathe one collective sigh of relief as you sailed away on a boat full of relative strangers. You did, too.

One person that seemed to care less than any of the others was Sanji. He treated you just like any of the others on the ship, except maybe Zoro. You weren’t sure what that was all about, but the others seemed to ignore it, so you did too.

You had been on the ship for a few months when you began to notice a change in his behavior, however. It was such a gradual change that you didn’t notice it at first, in fact, you weren’t really sure why you noticed it all of a sudden. You just did.

A big tell-tale was less flirting with Nami and Robin. Not that he didn’t still freak out periodically, but it was just…less.

A less obvious tell, and one you thought you were imagining at first, was that he began to watch you. More than he was before, and in a different way than before. It wasn’t suspicious, maybe concern, maybe confusion, you weren’t sure. But the more you watched him, the more he watched you.

It wasn’t long before it began to bother you, and you began to grow paranoid. Maybe he was finally wondering what was wrong with your face that you had never shown it, maybe he was going to demand you reveal yourself. Panic filled you at the thought, and you began to contemplate jumping ship at the next port of call. You wondered how long it would take them to notice you hadn’t come back, and that thought made you feel so lonely it was almost unbearable. It was the first time you had actually felt like you belonged somewhere, with no one judging you, no one casting dark looks over the shoulder as you passed, not ducking down alleyways as you approached.

The idea of leaving left your head swimming, and it was as you were starting to drown in it that Sanji approached.

The call of you name snapped you out of it, just enough that you could respond, but realizing that it was him sent you spiraling again. He wore a serious, contemplative look, the cigarette between his lips casting a strange shadow across his face.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he asked, stopping just shy of your personal space.

“Nothing,” you said, a little to quickly, and even to you it sound hollow and untrue. But you couldn’t think of anything to add, too lost in your own negativity as you were, and you were content to stay there, until he spoke again.

“So, uh, we’re going to be landing soon. I was wondering…I have to go shopping so…do you maybe want to go into town with me?” he asked, his cheeks a flaming red that only grew brighter the more words tumbled out of his mouth. He was scratching the back of his head, his eyes flicking towards your face but never quite meeting yours.

Whatever you had expected him to say or ask, it wasn’t that, and you began to gnaw at your bottom lip as you considered his request. Throwing caution to the wind in the wake of the relief that filled your chest, you nodded, allowing a small, shy smile to creep up onto your face.

You shut it down just as quickly, slamming the happiness down as hard as you could before it could really manifest itself. It was too much to hope that he would go any further, too much to hope that it was more than it seemed. But still, you couldn’t help the tiny spark that lit in your chest.

From that moment until the time the anchor dropped at the dock, your heart fluttered against your ribs like a trapped bird, hope and despair playing tug-of-war with your nerves the whole time.

They eased a little when Sanji looked to you and offered his arm, which you took hesitantly but quickly came to enjoy. As you strolled through the square, he chatted amicably, like you were his best friend, and you found yourself reciprocating with ease. It was easy to forget for a while that you weren’t like everyone else, Sanji just treated you like that.

The facade was broken by a child screaming out, “What is that freaky mask your wearing? Are you ugly?”

As soon as you registered what was said, you deflated and sunk in on yourself, hunching your shoulders as you used your hair to hide your face. On the verge of tears, you yanked your arm from Sanji’s, wanting nothing more than to run back and hide on the ship. A strong hand on your wrist prevented you from escaping, and to your astonishment he began to yell at the child, calling him rude and demanding he apologize.

Unable to look up, you missed the terror on the boy’s face, followed by his mother ushering him away in a hurry, casting scathing looks back at your companion.

The grip on your wrist relaxed, and his thumb began to rub circles on your skin. “Hey, don’t listen to him. I don’t have to see your face to know you’re beautiful.”

It was such a typically Sanji thing to say you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped your lips, but you quickly clamped your hand over the mask covering your mouth and cast a quick glance at Sanji.

“You can laugh. I’m not offended,” he said with a shrug. His hand slid further down, linking his fingers between yours before he began to pull you along in the direction you had been heading before the rude child called out.

You let him, watching the back of his head in bewilderment.

That initial outing didn’t establish a pattern exactly, but it quickly became apparent to everyone that something more was going on between the two of you since that day. Gentle hand brushed, a hand on your lower back as he passed by you, and soft smiles in your direction were too obvious to miss.

He still had his outbursts about Robin and Nami, but now they seemed reactionary rather than attention seeking, and even they could see the difference. Something about you had enamored him, and all without him ever seeing your full face.

The idea that he ever would filled you with dread. So you began to pull away.

He didn’t give you very long to try, though, and approached you about it exactly one week into your avoidance scheme. Naturally, you tried to duck away from him, but his hand around your wrist stopped you. It reminded you so strongly of that first day, that date, as you had begun to think of it, that you wanted to cry. It hurt to be so afraid of something as natural as this, but you couldn’t take the rejection if he decided, like your village had, that your smile was too unnatural to be normal.

“What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?” he demanded, but he didn’t sound angry. Just hurt.

It twisted your heart, and you stopped trying to pull away. He was so kind, and funny, and charming, and all that coalesced into as strong a pull as you had ever felt towards someone before, and that frightened you. “No, Sanji. It’s– I–” You sighed in frustration at the words that wouldn’t come. You wanted to let him down easy, but it was impossible when you didn’t want to let him down at all. “I think– it’s better this way. I have a lot of…problems, from my past. I don’t want to drag you down.”

“It’s about that mask, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling at your wrist so you would turn around to face him. You went willingly enough, but wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “I don’t care about what’s under it. If it’s a scar or– or you have big lips or–”

You snickered at that, placing the back of your hand to the mask to stifle the noise. A flicker of a smile appeared on his face as well, but fell quickly.

“I mean it. I don’t care what’s under the mask. I like you, I want to get to know you better, if you’ll let me?” It was more question than statement; he was asking permission, and that endeared him all the more to you. For such a flirt, he sure was polite.

You looked up at him, trying to gauge whether he was lying at all, even though you knew from his tone that he wasn’t. He was only every this serious about food and fighting. And you, it seemed.

Trying to tamp down the rising panic in your chest, you began to reach up towards the ties that held your mask in place, your head starting to swim as your breathing became more shallow. Hands on yours stopped your progress though, and through the fog you could hear Sanji say, “Hey, you don’t have to show me. Not until you’re ready.”

Tears sparked at the sincerity, but you shook your head, words coming out in a hoarse tumble. “I need to know you’ll accept me as I am, before I get too attached and you hurt me. It’s better this way. Believe me.”

You could hardly see him, but thought you saw him nod, and the hands slipped from yours. The ties came loose a second later, and you cradled the mask gently in your hands as you brought it down from your face. It was the first time in many, many years that you had allowed someone to see you without it, and it felt like you were standing on the deck naked without it.

Sanji remained quiet as he stared at you, drinking in your face in it’s entirety like it was his first sip of water in a week. “Well, I don’t see any big lips, or a mustache, so–“

You cut him off with a snort, your lips curling up in a smile before you could stop it. Immediately, you clapped a hand to your mouth, barely daring to look at him but needing to know what his reaction was.

His brows furrowed, and his hand came up to tug gently at yours. You reluctantly allowed him to pull it down, clasping it in his like he was afraid you were going to hide behind it again if he let go. “Is that what you’re so afraid of? Your smile?”

The nod you gave him was a forced one; it felt like a weakness admitting it. The villagers never expressly made you wear the mask, but they made it clear they liked you better behind it. It became an unspoken rule that you had to wear it, and pretty soon you began to believe something actually was wrong with your smile, and with you. But the way Sanji was staring at you, not with disgust but with confusion, made you believe, just for a second, that maybe nothing was wrong.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. Maybe it isn’t exactly like mine, but that doesn’t mean you have anything to be ashamed of.” His free hand came up and pushed a curl of hair out of your face, his fingers tracing a gentle path down your cheek afterwards. “I understand if you’re afraid, but my personal opinion is that you’re gorgeous. Wear the mask if it makes you feel better, but you don’t need to be ashamed of anything.”

More than anything, besides the fact that he didn’t outright run from you in horror, you were relieved that he didn’t diminish your fears. They were long kept and deep rooted, and they weren’t going to be conquered in one night. But even with just one person on your side, by your side, you felt better already. Like maybe one day you would be able to face everyone without your mask.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears.

“You’re welcome, princess. You gonna stop avoiding me now?” he asked, flicking you gently on the forehead.

You giggled, and before you could even consider lifting your hand to hide it, it was already coming up. But then his was wrapped around it, squeezing gently. “We’ll work on that,” he said, leading you into the kitchen. “I think it’s time we celebrate to seeing that pretty face of yours.”

–

let me explain something to y’all it is 11pm here and this got wildly out of hand and it’s too mushy and i have an extreme paranoia of characters being ooc without meaning for them to be event tho sanji is hella easy but this was also super fun to write

also i suck at endings but tbh this one is like, top 5 for me so kudos me ima pat myself on the back. i’m posting this now bc idk what a schedule is :^)

also x2 i realized i didn’t edit this stupid thing, then i reread the ask for the third time and realized you asked for headcanons so long story short no headcanons, just scenario, and one very tired, incapable of reading admin

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 186: Lunch and Then Some Light Noumu Battling

Previously on BnHA: The New JP Hero Billboard Chart Top 10 rankings were announced and the heroes each gave a short little speech. My new adult bird son Can You Smell What The Hawk Is Cooking stole the spotlight by basically saying, “y’all need to stop being such bummers, we’re the best that the world’s got now so let’s fucking act like it.” We learned that Hawks is basically a hero prodigy, having started his own hero agency at the tender young age of 18, and now having risen all the way to #2 at age 22. Anyway, he then handed the mic over to Endeavor who went with the short and sweet “just watch me” route, for better or worse. Afterwards Endeav throttled Hawks a little bit in the privacy of his dressing room, and Hawks apologized and then said he actually needed Endeavor’s help for something. “Do you remember the Noumus?” I then proceeded to lose my shit, as we transitioned to some unknown location where an unknown figure was talking to an unknown Noumu with a Kurogiri face (!) who could TALK BACK (!!!!). Then I really lost my shit omg.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor and Hawks go for a stroll on their lunch break. Hawks casually saves like 15 random people and attracts a crowd of fans seeking autographs and selfies. Meanwhile Endeavor attracts one (1) fan, and tries to offer an autograph of his own only to send the kid running off in tears because Endeavor’s aloof attitude is apparently what makes him cool lol. So as Endeav tries to sort all of that out, he sits down with Hawks in some fancy high-rise restaurant. Hawks tells him about some rumored Noumu sightings that he’s been investigating all across the country. He says he flew out to the locations, but couldn’t find any evidence. He theorizes that someone might be purposely spreading rumors in order to sow fear among the general populace. And he says he wants Endeavor, the newly crowned number one here, to be the one to put the people at ease. Meanwhile he himself just wants to chill out, and he would like nothing better than an ideal world so peaceful that heroes can just relax. Anyway, so then that Talking Noumu from the last chapter comes flying at them from out of nowhere and smashes through the glass and is all “WHICH ONE OF YOU IS STRONGEST.” So Endeavor goes to fight him.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 208 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

omg

I think this might be my favorite SJ cover like, ever?? is that a huge overreaction? but like, Deku looks so cool. and I fucking love the colors so much. and don’t think I didn’t notice the distinct BakuDeku theme of this green and orange aesthetic, Horikoshi. because I did! notice! gosh these colors look so good together don’t y’all agree. okay fine I’ll shut the fuck up

lmao

this was such a badass cover and then it’s just. completely ruined by the text in the background being all “TOAST ‘EM”

(ETA: that text was so distracting that I honestly didn’t even notice the Noumu in the background. completely missed that. so observant lol. I probably would have noticed in Mangastream’s version, which says “seething!” but that’s pretty funny too tbh)

jesus Endeavor calm the fuck down and put yourself out already. why are you always so fucking angry

holy shit

well now, that’s one hell of an opening hook

the text is all “ever since I could remember, I’ve lived at the whim of others.” and apparently this dude found it suffocating

so here we have a disgruntled office worker about to shoot the place up, presumably? or like, the quirk equivalent of that. how fucking creepy

oh my GOD

IS HE STRIPPING NAKED TO GAIN MORE EMBARRASSMENT POWER

what the fucking fuck oh my lord. every so often Horikoshi is just like “lol I thought of a really weird thing. let’s just roll with it and see where it takes us”

so this man with his weird humiliation kink thinks he’s all that, but!

did Hawks just shoot fucking feathers to cover this man’s R-rated parts

also if Endeavor is even 1% like his youngest son, his favorite food will be soba. moment of truth!

goddammit, Endeavor’s just completely ignoring the question, and he’s actually focusing on stopping the flasher guy while Hawks continues to talk about food

lmao now this stupid fucking dog is running out into traffic

don’t worry kids, Hawks fired off more wings to spirit sweet, stupid Schwartz away to safety

you had me until “chicken liver” Hawks but I guess I could keep an open mind

does Hawks ever actually make eye contact with anyone

I’m starting to feel like he’s the type who would deliberately turn around if he ever did happen to be facing the same direction as whoever he was rescuing. he only does casual rescues

oddly enough I’m liking him less than I did before. Too Cool For That Shit is just not my type. I prefer Too Grumpy For That Shit and/or Actually Fully Enthusiastic And Earnest And Will Do The Uncool Thing Without Hesitation

but I have a feeling that what we see might not be what we get here, so let’s just wait a bit. idk just a feeling about him. because he sure as heck didn’t have that meteoric rise by not giving a damn

(ETA: okay so! needless to say my fears were unfounded as it turns out Hawks’s thing is not Too Cool For That Shit, but actually Too Tired For That Shit, which is actually one of my favorite types. Too Cool is just the persona he puts on because it’s what’s expected of him. but in actuality the reason he seems so nonchalant is because his heart isn’t really in it. this was never something he wanted to do; it was something he was more or less forced into because he was so talented and With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, and so it didn’t really matter what he personally wanted or didn’t want. in other words, Hawks is the very first Reluctant Hero I think we’ve had in this series. he’s someone who is more or less trapped in his role, and by now he’s become very, very good at what he does, but more than anything he would like to one day not have to do it anymore.

but of course not only does he not have that option, he’s somehow managed to get himself in way deeper than most of his peers will ever have to worry about. not only does he have to contend with the everyday stresses of hero life, but he also has a fun undercover double agent mission to worry about! so add in the fear of being caught and the stress of having to play both sides, while all the while trying his best to make sure no innocents get hurt! and having to think about all of this constantly!

basically, up until now I wouldn’t have thought that anyone could come along and actually contend with Aizawa for the title of Most Exhausted Character in the series. but not only does Hawks contend, I think it’s actually no contest. and yet he does it anyway. without complaint. well with a little bit of complaining, but under the guise of being a lackadaisical young twenty-something who isn’t particularly concerned about anything. 

he actually ends up confessing more to Endeavor than I would have expected, given all this. like he was straight up confiding in him. that all turned out to be completely true. but because he says it with that carefree smile, you don’t realize at first how much he’s just kind of quietly suffering underneath it all. like that dog in the house on fire saying this is fine. like, no it fucking isn’t, but he puts on such a good act of being completely unconcerned. it’s astounding in hindsight.

my god I have so many fucking feelings about Hawks apparently. I didn’t mean to essay this much and there are probably more essays on the way too lol. I love my tired bird son too damn much and I hope to god he doesn’t get himself killed fffff.)

anyways he’s signing autographs and giving interviews and shit, and meanwhile Endeavor is just completely being ignored

okay now they’re acknowledging him, but it’s the usual “man, he’s scary!”

(ETA: CAN’T YOU SEE-KUNNNNN)

this kid knows what’s what. Inasa was fucked up for years because of his I Asked Endeavor For An Autograph trauma

now Endeavor is silently and intimidatingly turning his head toward the kids and walking over

by the way these children are fucking adorable and I want take them all home and give them sandwiches and juice boxes

(ETA: I’m so glad Can’t You See-kun is even acknowledged in-universe as the most adorable child on the face of the earth. if anyone ever deserved to become a beloved meme it’s him)

oh shit Endeavor’s making an effort!!

he’s really trying to fix that image omg

but it’s not working!

oh snap. it’s just like All Might said, huh. remember he told you not to try to copy him and to do your own thing, Endeavor

the kid is having a meltdown now and saying that Endeavor doesn’t need fanservice and that the lone wolf attitude is what makes him cool

okay but you can be a lone wolf and still be Not A Dick, though

now the kid is running away crying. jesus christ. well so much for those juice boxes then. maybe I’ll just give them to your shark-looking friend

Endeav’s just staring in confusion and wondering where he went wrong

where you went wrong is being a dick for 40 years. change isn’t just going to come overnight. but you need to keep at it! if you want to be nicer just be nicer, and eventually either your fans will warm up to the change, or you’ll get new fans

(ETA: I stand by this, for the record. I know this arc is doing a whole thing of showing how Endeavor can be a different type of hero than All Might and still be someone that people rely on. but in addition to this I think that if he genuinely wants to be more approachable than he should just keep working at it even if people are naturally going to be really confused by it at first)

anyways so now we’re cutting to some fancy high-rise restaurant and Endeav and Hawks are eating in what seems to be a private room

or more accurately, Hawks is eating, and Endeavor is just sitting there with his arms crossed same as always

are you sure Shouto isn’t adopted? that kid loves stuffing his face during serious discussions

(ETA: lmao and he even does it yet again at the end of this arc. I don’t know why I’m always so tickled by this but I just love it)

anyway, so Hawks is replying that when he wants something he just goes for it. “it’s just my nature”

he apparently tried to draft Shouto after the sports festival! interesting

but he says he’s glad that he ended up with Tokoyami in the end

wow but kind of a dick reason -- “Shouto-kun’s brand took a hit after he failed his provisional license exam”

is he just trying to rile up Endeavor here? interesting

Endeavor says Hawks knows a lot for someone who never went to U.A.

which we kind of already knew (that he’s not a U.A. alum), because otherwise he would have been involved in the Kamino mission. but I wonder where he did graduate from. is he a Shiketsu alum?

how mysterious

(ETA: in the Mangastream version he says “I’ve always been a good observer, you see,” which is something that gets called back to later)

anyway, now Endeavor’s getting impatient and demanding to get to the point

ahasfhkhlkj

yesssss more info about them omgggg. how are there even Noumus anymore with AFO locked up??

okay so Hawks is reiterating the stuff we already know, that “scores” of Noumus were captured along with All for One at Kamino. and that since then, even though the League has been active, they haven’t been able to confirm any new appearances of Noumus

hmm, I see, so it’s going to turn out that it was B

(ETA: actually now I’m wondering if there might be a C and this is purposely trying to mislead us! because everyone always assumed that AFO was the only one capable of producing Noumus, but what if that isn’t the case though?)

Endeavor says that since Hawks wants to team up, that must mean he’s actually found proof of this so-called “rumor”

oh my god Endeavor. why couldn’t we have had you during the last arc. you would have had us out of that bullshit basement in no time flat

(ETA: for real, this arc is only what, nine chapters? the man knows how to move things along)

okay now Hawks is saying that this isn’t the only place where Noumus have been sighted, and that there are rumors all around the country -- though not in the news -- and people have been gossiping

oh for fuck’s sake could you get to the point already Hawks. stop dramatically building up to it

blah blah he heard it from locals when he went on a business trip, and he did a secret investigation at that time but wasn’t able to turn anything up

so he says he got interested after that, and flew around the country to investigate further

so apparently there were similar rumors cropping up in completely unrelated parts of the country, with slight variations

but in the end he wasn’t able to validate any of the rumors

so then if this is all true, how many of these Noumu 2.0s are there??

(ETA: and is any of it actually true? it’s hard to say at this point. I’m learning toward “yes”, or else why bring it up in the first place. there’s gonna be a Noumu arc coming up in the future at some point I think. Noumu Wars)

so Hawks is continuing to munch on his yakitori and he says that ever since the incidents at U.A., Hosu, and Kamino, everyone knows about the Noumus now, and he wonders if it’s just “some asshole with a motive to spread unease” who’s spreading rumors throughout the country

okay but we the readers know for a fact it’s not! and you wouldn’t have called Endeavor to team up if you really thought it was just rumors. so when are you going to get to your point

...no way he’s talking about All for One, is he? "a criminal from a long time ago.” someone who wanted ability users to be free. was AFO the Magneto of his day once upon a time?

(ETA: actually, thinking about this more I think maybe it was the mysterious Destro who was mentioned by Gentle not too long ago and who I’m still hoping to learn more about. he was the leader of the Quirk Liberation Army or something along those lines wasn’t he? definitely sounds like a Magneto type)

he says that the more fear a society has, the more these kind of delusions sell and spread

Endeavor is again telling him to stop being a dramatic fuck and to just get to the point

wha

seriously?? you invited him to lunch just to ask him that?

Endeavor’s asking him what his angle is

did fucking Hawks just admit he wants to 420 blaze it. in my good Christian manga. which takes place and is published in Japan where weed will get you thrown in fucking prison for the better part of a decade. something tells me this is Jaimini’s Box taking certain liberties lol

(ETA: yeah, in Mangastream’s version he says “sit back with a nice cold one” which is much more in line with Japanese culture lol. still, Hawks does give off that stoner vibe a bit, can’t deny)

aww, but this part is sweet

though you do know you’ll end up putting a lot of heroes out of a job lol. safer world = no need for heroes. I’m sure most heroes would take that trade-off any day though

so now Endeavor is being all quiet and seemingly thoughtful

and he’s looking out the window

and... whaaaat is this

...do not fucking tell me this is a Noumu

holy fuck it’s a Noumu

um, what? can we back up just a sec? we just had a whole long discussion all about how there have been no verified Noumu sightings since AFO was locked up, and now one just happens to show up the instant the #1 and #2 heroes are done having their little talk?

lmao and now the hostess is coming with the check

maybe this Noumu’s uncannily good timing was cancelled out by this lady who has the worst timing that any human person has ever had in the history of existence

holy shit look how dramatic this is!?

“HELLO MY NAME IS TALKING NOUMU. WHICH IS THE STRONGEST ONE. RARRRR”

Endeavor is telling Hawks to lead the evacuation

Hawks is asking “what about you?” as if that part wasn’t obvious

RIGHT? suspiciously good timing if you ask me. I don’t have any real clue what’s going on yet, but damned if this is a coincidence

anyways now Endeavor is showing us just why he’s the current number one!

TAKE THAT, SUSPICIOUS TALKING NOUMU

and next chapter we’ll apparently get a whole Endeavor battle. well I hope it’s interesting! this arc is off to a bit of a weird start for me, but I think it’s because several of the pieces have yet to fall into place completely. there are a lot of weird coincidences and things that seem Just A Little Bit Off, and I feel like once we learn why, I’m going to be like, “ohhhhhhh!!”

(ETA: yeah, needless to say there were a lot of “ohhhhhh!!” moments and this arc is incredibly dense on a reread. so much going on here omg. this is good stuff)

no bonus today! I almost ran out of time to even put tags. anyways, toast ‘em Endeavor

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 3: I’ll Do Better

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I think I’m just gonna stop putting swearing as a warning? Cause it’s in literally every single chapter Lmao, Arguments, a moment with PTSD and anxiety

Word Count: 8,739

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “What’s got your panties in a twist this time?” Tina teases with her signature smirk as Gavin sits down next to her at their table.

    “Fuck off, Tina.” Gavin shakes his head, knowing that his words don’t have the venom they would if he were to say them to anyone else.

    “Aw, come on! You look even more bothered than usual and you’re not gonna tell me what happened?” The woman doesn’t give enough time for him to reply before continuing again. “I have ten bucks in my pocket that says it has to do with the new trainees roaming around.”

    “That and Hank fuckin’ Anderson.” He begins around the food in his mouth, “Didn’t even know he could be awake at this hour anymore, let alone be sober enough to pull the ‘my old partner’s the current marshal’ card. I mean, he didn’t use it on me, but I heard him use it on one of the new fuckers.”

    “One of the trainees? What’d they do?”

    “For once in my life I was just mindin’ my own fuckin’ business, when two newbies come around the corner. Of course, I’m just trying to get to lunch, right? So I plan on just walking around them, but this kid fuckin’ tries to shoulder-check me! And when I didn’t budge he started acting like I started it!”

    “So you picked a proper fight?” Tina’s turned towards him now, engrossed in Gavin’s story.

    “No! Like I said, I just wanted some fuckin’ food! So I threatened the guy a bit and... gave a warning, you could say. I could immediately tell he had an ego larger than my ass, so I couldn’t just let him walk away, ya know?.”

    Another woman’s voice pipes up, “Wait, you said there were two trainees. What about the other one?” Gavin doesn’t know when she got here, but now she’s sitting across from Tina.

    “It was the same dude I saw daydreaming in the hall yesterday, and he kept trying to get the other dude to just walk away like the fuckin’ coward he is. He even got the shit beat outta him sometime after dinner yesterday. He was all bandaged up and limping a bit. Anderson rounded the corner before I could even start with him.”

    “And you said he was awake, walking around, and sober earlier? Wow.” Tina leans back in her chair. “I’m impressed. That’s the second time this month he’s been sober and calm so early in the day.”

    “You think he’s finally coming to terms with whatever happened to him?” Tina’s official partner– Angie? Allie? Amy? Who fuckin’ knows and who fuckin’ cares– asks, sounding genuinely hopeful for the washed up drunkard.

    Gavin barks out a harsh laugh, “Nah, there’s no way. His hangover probably just woke him up earlier than normal.”

    “What exactly do you have against him, Gav?” the same lady asks.

    “What do you mean ‘what do I have against him’? He’s done nothing but sit around on his ass drunk as hell for the past couple of years and no one’s done anything about it because he’s the ‘oh so great Pilot Anderson’ and his fuckin’ bff is the one in charge of this shit hole!” Gavin leans back in his chair with crossed arms, his food already scarfed down and tray empty. “If any of us acted the way he has been for even a month we’d be kicked out of here before we could even pack our stuff! Besides, isn’t he too fuckin’ old to pilot anymore anyway? Why in the hell is he even still here?”

    “He’s only barely in his forties you know,” Tina informs patiently, having heard this rant a hundred times over by now, “He started going grey in his early twenties, something about genetics. Can’t imagine the stress and grief helped at all, either.”

    “Grief. What could have possibly happened to make him ‘grieve’ for this long? Like, don’t get me wrong, I get it, but it’s been fuckin’ years of this shit. He needs to get it together, ‘cause at this point he’s just dragging us down.”

    Gavin lowers his head and averts his eyes, enviously thinking about how he wasn’t ever given the kind of treatment Anderson is given on a daily basis. His face must start looking softer because Tina looks at him with a sort of concern and confusion. He scowls at her and shakes his head with a huff in dismissal.

    All throughout training, each pilot is taught that no one can hold back any memories from their partner while in the drift. While that fact was usually used to keep trainees in line since everything they do will be seen by another person eventually, it was true. Mostly. After certain things took place long ago, Gavin accidentally stumbled upon a way to keep memories from whoever was his partner. From the complaints he’s heard in the past, it’s just as uncomfortable for them as it is for him, if not more so. So far, only Tina and her new partner have been able to put up with it more than twice..

    The whole point is, no one here truly knows his story. The people who did have either retired, or they were killed in action, or their name is Jeffery Fowler. No one knows what kind of life he had growing up, if he has siblings or not, how long he trained to be a pilot before arriving here; and nobody knows if Gavin’s “pissy, jackass attitude” is a result of something or if that’s just who he is.

    Spoiler alert: it’s just how he’s fuckin’ been his entire damn life, and he has no intentions to change any time soon. Even if Gavin wanted to, he doesn’t think he could actually change enough for it to matter, anyway. So fuck it.

    “You don’t know what happened!” Tina’s partner sounds thoroughly offended on Anderson’s behalf. She must be newer or more empathetic than he thought. “They said this started right after a particularly big battle with a kaiju, he probably lost family or something!”

    “I lost my family and my home when I was 17, and no one’s ever seen me moping around, constantly high as fuck and unable to do my job! ‘Cause heaven knows I wouldn’t get drunk of all things to forget my problems, I still have some self-respect.”

    He must have said something wrong because the looks on both women’s faces make him feel like he’s the main attraction of a pity party. He scowls again and is about to snarl out “what?” when Tina finally speaks, albeit softly, as if he, Gavin Reed, a man tougher and more stubborn than the most overcooked jerky, would break.

    “You were only 17 when..?”

    And just like that, it clicks.

    “No, you fucks!” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, “I was kicked out by my bitch-ass mother. They haven’t died or anything like that. At least, I don’t think they have…”

    Both women relax, Tina already going back to her almost finished meal as if nothing happened, knowing full well that they weren’t going to get anything else out of Gavin for the rest of the week. However, her partner seems a bit more adamant on knowing the story, if the look in her eye is anything to go by. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, Gavin abruptly stands up. It’s time to get the hell outta dodge.

    “Well, as much as I’d like to say it was a pleasure talking to you asshats, I can’t.” Tina’s smirk is enough to let Gavin know that she knows he’s just messing around now. “Don’t have a sucky ass day, I guess. Or do, I’m not your fuckin’ parent.” He promptly turns with his empty tray in hand and leaves the food court area after putting everything in their designated places.

    Whenever Gavin gets worked up, going to the gym usually helps. Growing up, the only way he learned to deal with his short temper was to let it out through physical exertion. When he was younger, that meant getting into fights and punching walls until he felt calm and safer to be around again. Now, though, it means going to the gym and showing anyone else who may be in there how it’s done. Not only does he feel better about himself– contrary to popular belief, punching the nearest person or thing had never done well for his conscience after all was said and done– he also gets some of the best scores in fighting skill from his admittedly excessive training. To be completely honest, those high scores are probably the only thing keeping him here at this point.

    Gavin takes his sweet, precious time getting to the gym. He meanders through the endless, reinforced halls until he gets to his room. They placed him right across from Tina’s room since she’s the only one who can tolerate him and is the only one Gavin doesn’t regularly want to deck in the throat. Even though she has an official partner now, that girl’s still relatively new and Tina is a better match in the drift for Gavin than anyone else is. Now that he thinks about it, he may not be able to slack off like Anderson, but he can admit that the higher-ups of this place have done a lot more to keep him here than they likely would have for anyone else. Not even he had to do “intern work” for Fowler during his first week of training, and it’s that one assbag’s second day here and he’s already managed to fuck it up.

    He changes into his work out clothes quickly and grabs the wraps for his hands. He puts them on expertly on the way, having gone through the wrapping process much more often than anyone he knows has. Gavin’s about to turn into the gym when he hears the voice of that daydreaming coward coming from around the corner.

    “Connor, would you stop your whining. Do you want what happened today in class to happen again?”

    Gavin quickly backtracks to hide behind one of the support beams on the wall. He wants to know what happened during their class, because he has a feeling it has to do with how fucked up the guy was this morning.

    “No I don’t,” the same voice replies? Is he talking to himself? Is this another case of Fight Club? “But we just got told to lie down and relax today since our hands are too bruised to hold pens. I don’t think it’s wise to go in there in case–”

    “–In case we’re found here while this injured, I know.” Well, it’s definitely not the same person, since there were clearly two voices talking over each other just then. “You’ve said that only a million times now. We’re allowed to be in here, we just won’t be using the equipment.”

    Gavin takes a chance to lean his head out and look at whoever is talking. He immediately recognises daydreamer on the left by the light grey shirt he’s wearing, which means his identical twin is wearing the black shirt. The doppelganger– apparently named Connor– looks slightly worse off than his twin.

    These pilot wannabes just got here recently, right? So they must have been paired up for the initial evaluation and roughed each other up good. Maybe the twink-looking asshole isn’t a coward at all. Maybe the dude is just confident that he could win in a fight against Gavin. Although, that doesn’t explain why he was so certain that Gavin could win against that other fucker– was it Alex?– in a brawl just earlier. Maybe it’s more of an “You can’t beat me, but you can win against him” kinda deal.

    Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum both enter the gym, still continuing on with their conversation about morals and finding loopholes within rules and orders, and Gavin takes that as his cue to follow them inside.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “I still think we shouldn’t hold back around the instructors. They’re here to evaluate us, right?” Connor asks, still very much concerned about hiding things from the people who are above them in rank.

    It’s just that, what if they get caught holding back and are punished for it? Connor doesn’t even want to think about the times that had happened while training with Amanda, let alone repeat it. He knows logically that Luther wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to his students, but the inconvenient part of Connor’s head is not letting him actually believe it. It’s better to expect the worst and get better results than assume decent results and get blindsided.

    “Yes, but if we don’t hold back, then they’ll probably make us graduate much earlier, which means less time to find new partners.” Ritch hisses at him.

    Connor just sighs, knowing he’s right but not liking to go behind instructors’ backs, even for something as important to them as this. Ritch likely knows what kind of war is going on in his head right now, which is probably why he’s being much more patient with him than usual today.

    “I know you don’t like this, but it’s necessary.”

    “I know. You’re right, as always.” Connor relents finally, sitting down in the far corner of the gym where it will be obvious that they’re just sitting there, watching everyone else train and work out. They need to get a feel for how much they should be holding back for now, and how fast they should progress throughout training.

    A few minutes pass of silently watching a man on a treadmill, another at a punching bag, and a woman lifting weights before Connor leans over to speak into Ritch’s ear.

    “Are we going to match their skill? Or are we going to try going weaker than them?”

    “After the show we put on earlier, I don’t think we can pull off playing as much weaker or less skilled than these people without the others becoming suspicious.” he answers immediately, eyes never leaving the tiring man on the treadmill.

    Connor nods silently, leaning back into his own space again. It isn’t long until Ritch is leaning over to whisper in his ear, this time.

    “Do you see the guy at the punching bag?”

    “Yes?” Connor confirms, watching the man go to town on the hanging bag.

    His technique is very good, and he has a lot of power behind each punch. It’s obvious that he’s tougher and stronger than he looks, not unlike Ritch and himself. Connor wonders if Ritch is going to suggest matching with him. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all, seeing as how he seems to be at almost the same level as them. Plus, judging by the scars littered around his face and arms, he has real experience in combat, which gives him a leg up on the other trainees.

    Actually… That might be Pilot–

    “That’s Gavin Reed.” Ritch unknowingly confirms his thought. “He’s trouble, so just try your best to avoid and ignore him. I’ve already run into him twice and both times he’s tried to pick a fight with me.”

    That wasn’t what Connor was expecting. He knew the rumors of Gavin Reed being testy and short-tempered, but he’s picking fights with Ritch of all people so soon after their arrival?

    “Really? It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.”

    “Yea. The first time he shoulder checked me while I was walking on the correct half of the hallway while he was going the opposite way, and the second time happened just before lunch. Apparently Alex bumped into him but he–” he nods to Gavin “–was adamant on finishing what was started. Mr. Anderson had to come and diffuse the situation.”

    Connor turns to face Ritch. “Mr. Anderson was there?”

    “Yes.”

    “Did he seem okay? He seemed to have a terrible hangover this morning at lunch, and I’m sure any yelling that was happening wasn’t helping.”

    Now Ritch turns to him. “Why do you care? He hasn’t been in a jaeger in years. Unless you became much more attached to who he once was than I thought.”

    Connor huffs out what could be considered a growl and turns back to Gavin, “Can’t a guy just care about someone else’s health?”

    “Not you.” Ritch follows Connor’s gaze, “When you care about someone’s health, it’s one of the first signs that you’re getting attached to someone, and I really don’t believe that Mr. Anderson is someone you should be getting attached to.”

    “Why do you think that?” Immediately defensive.

    “People talk, and he isn’t–.”

    “Just like how they used to talk about us?”

    “This is different than us.”

    “How so?”

    Ritch sharply turns back to his twin, irritation causing his eyebrows to set even lower and his mouth to thin. “Look, I don’t give a damn about who you imprint on or whatever anymore. I am trying to help you out here, because unlike the times people have talked about us, what people are saying about Mr. Anderson are all factual and we’ve both seen the proof. You need to lay off of him because not everyone feels the incessant need to not be alone.”

    Connor finally allows himself to snap back. “Maybe you’re wrong this time. Yes, he drinks and he’s a miserable human being who doesn’t like other people, but how do we know that just who he is? What if he’s just like how we were way back in the orphanage, where everyone treated us like glass or ruined goods all the time? What if he wants– needs someone to be fuckin’ normal around him for a change to bring him out of his pit, and no one is there?”

    “If he wanted someone, he would have found someone. He had plenty of friends before he started this!” Ritch raises his voice from a whisper, and Connor can already tell that this isn’t going to end well, especially since he isn’t willing to roll over and surrender this time.

    “We had plenty of friends too, but they just didn’t understand once they found out, huh? They ended up just making things worse until all we had was each other. And there’s the thing! We still had one other person who understood! We had each other! And we’ve never remembered whatever trauma we’ve been through! He remembers it probably like it was yesterday and he is completely alone!”

    “This isn’t a fairy tale, Connor! This is real life, and in real life you can’t just swoop in and save the depressed, rumored suicidal alcoholic through the magical power of friendship!”

    “I don’t plan on saving anyone!” Connor shouts. The entire room becomes silent all of a sudden. He takes that moment to take a breath and continue at a normal speaking volume, “This is what you and everyone else don’t understand. I don’t want to save or fix people! I just want them to realize that there’s still hope for a somewhat normal life after their entire world shifted on its axis!” Connor takes another breath, recognizing that the three people in the room are no longer hiding the fact that they’re listening to him.

    “I know I’ve said before that people can’t ‘fix’ or ‘save’ other people. They can only ever offer hope and a sense of normality among the chaos and hope that person finds enough of their own strength to fix themselves. And go ahead and make fun of me for being ‘naive’ or whatever you want. This is what I’ve always thought and this is the one thing I will not let anyone change about me. Now, I’m going to go take a nap. Enjoy your people watching.”

    With that, Connor calmly makes his way across the gym area, a contradiction to the anger showing on his face and burning in his chest. He needs to calm down, and the best way to do that is to curl up in a calm, quiet place. He nods a silent greeting to the supposed troublemaker, Gavin Reed, on his way towards the door. Mostly to spite Ritch, but also because the guy had a really good form and the strength to back it up, and that deserves some kind of acknowledgement in Connor’s opinion.

     Connor vaguely hears his name being called by Ritch as he steps out of the gym area, and normally that would be enough to make him pause, which then gives him think over the argument. Nine times out of ten, during this process of thinking things over, his brain somehow convinces himself that the entire fight was his fault and the person won’t ever forgive him. This time, though, he doesn’t pause. He doesn’t give his messed up head a chance to twist things on him. Connor knows he’s right this time, and he’s not going to allow himself to bow down to Ritch about this topic. In this case, bowing down to Ritch would be the equivalent of bowing down to Amanda, and she isn’t here to control him anymore.

    No matter how far Connor was pushed during training as punishments, he never let her think she brainwashed that part of him, and she had not gone easy on him whatsoever.

    Call him naive, childish, innocent, too optimistic, whatever. He’s heard all of that and much more and much worse from countless people. He likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, he likes giving people second and sometimes third chances (but only if they truly deserve it, and never a fourth). He likes to think that most people in the world don’t mean to do harm, and if they do they have a reason behind it. This way of thinking is the only thing that keeps him going some days, and on the days he’d temporarily forgotten how to maintain that mindset were the days that not even threats and cruel promises from Amanda could get him out of his bed. Mr. Anderson may have been able to get away with staying in bed most days, but that’s because he was once a decorated jaeger pilot. Connor is barely an official trainee, he can’t afford any more missed time.

    “Connor!”

    The familiar, gruff voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It doesn’t sound like that’s the first time he’s tried calling Connor, either.

    “I apologise Mr. Anderson,” He starts with, turning on his heel quickly to not keep the older man waiting for his full attention a moment longer, “I was a bit lost in my head there for a few moments. I won’t let it happen again.”

    Mr. Anderson makes a face that falls between scowling and confusion, “Must’ve been deeper in there than you thought ‘cause this ain’t close to any place you’d be needed.”

    Looking around, he’s right. Connor doesn’t recognise these walls at all. There are different pipes and the floors are a slightly different texture than the rougher, more worn down metal or concrete of the other places he’s seen. He’s definitely in a bunker area, though, just not anywhere he’s been before, which means he’s probably in the area meant for more experienced pilots. Their bunkers are placed closest to the jaeger loading docks for faster take off. Connor must have taken a wrong turn at some point, still not completely used to this place’s layout.

    It was probably for the best, though, since the first place Ritch would surely check for him is their room (especially since he claimed that he was going to take a nap), and he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in the gym nor a chance to apologize to his brother for the sake of ending the fight. Both options are equally possible at this moment, so plan “get back to the dorm to calm down in the quiet” changes to plan “avoid Ritch while finding a good place to calm down in”.

    “Fucks sake, Connor!” Mr. Anderson calls again, once more sounding like that wasn’t the first thing he’s said to the younger man since he had zoned out.

    Connor immediately tenses, not liking when people start raising their voices at him, and snaps out of his thoughts again. Here he is, causing problems and inconveniences for people again, just like the fuck up he’s been lately. He needs to find a calm, peaceful place to relax sooner rather than later; he can’t be in public any longer like this.

    “I’m sorry,” Connor takes a step back, then another, all while curling into himself, “I must have taken a wrong turn, I apologize for taking up your time,” He takes a few more steps back, not lifting his gaze from the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. Sorry again–” Connor finishes weakly and darts out of the area, giving Mr. Anderson no chance to say anything to him.

    He tries to force his head to stay in the real world so he can actually register where is and find out where he’s going, but it’s slowly getting more difficult. He speed walks through the huge jaeger storage room, easily dodging all of the busy people moving about and doing their jobs. After a particular quick change in direction to avoid the woman with her nose in her clipboard, Connor is painfully aware that his leg is still throbbing from this morning, despite the painkillers he was given.

    At the reminder of the training room, he quickly finds a safe spot to stand in then checks the time. He hadn’t realised how much time has passed since lunch, and he isn’t sure how long of the past hour and a half was spent in the gym people watching and how much of it was spent wandering around aimlessly. He supposes it doesn’t matter at the moment. What does matter is that the training room should be empty by now, since everyone should be taking the written part of the exam so they can get a break from the physical exertion.

     Connor eventually makes it to the vacant room successfully. No one else tried to stop him or talk to him. No one else seemed to take any particular note of him at all. There was no sign of Mr. Anderson, Gavin Reed, or Ritch that he’d been able to find. He should be safe here.

    The first thing he does when he enters the room is find the best spot to spend over an hour in. He decides to camp in the left corner of the room, leaning against the wall the doorway he entered from is on. A minute or so of sitting and bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers pass before Connor decides to do some stretching. Yoga has always been his guilty pleasure and one of the few things that calmed him down completely. Besides, Amanda never complained about him being more flexible during fights. She said it complimented Ritch’s more solid technique.

    Why does every little thing bounce back to her? Stop that. She’s gone now, so stop thinking about her. Stop thinking…

    He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knows he’s been in the Child’s Pose for a fair amount of time, if the pin pricks in his calves and feet and the ache rising in his knees and lower back have anything to say about that. With a quiet grunt, he rolls onto his back and straightens out his body, trying to stretch out all of the aching joints and muscles. Connor doesn’t think it would be as bad if it was his entire body that ached, because then it would be easier to ignore it and move on.

    “Oh shit. Connor, what are you doing in here?” North asks, making Connor jump.

    Connor should have realized that he wasn’t alone in the room. With how tired he was, and still is, there’s no way he would have woken up on his own while the sun was still up.

    Connor notes the random sounds of concern and confusion and the footsteps growing closer to him. He decides to go with sarcasm and humor, rather than the blunt truth. He’s already caused enough inconveniences today, and he knows this group well enough to know that they won’t somehow be offended by it.

    “Oh, you know. Just doing yoga. I don’t recommend falling asleep in the middle of a pose though…” Connor fails to cover a groan as he sits up. His legs have gotten a bit better, but his back and ankles certainly haven’t yet. “Yea, definitely not the best position to fall asleep in.”

    Markus offers a hand to lift him up to his feet, and Connor gladly takes it. “Why are you doing yoga in here of all places? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

    “I didn’t even know you did yoga,” Josh jumps in.

    Connor elects to ignore Markus’ question for the time being, “It’s always been a guilty pleasure of mine, and once my… Once the person who was taking care of me and Ritch figured out I was doing yoga in my spare time instead of doing extra studying, she didn’t actively try to stop me.” He starts leaning and twisting his torso in different directions to try to stretch his back, grimacing at how it pulls at some of the bandages and injuries on his torso. “She actually said that my flexibility and fluidity in fights complimented Ritch’s more rigid and solid form.”

    “Jesus,” Simon breathes out, “The way you and Ritch describe– Amanda was it?” Connor nods, “Makes it seem like she wasn’t your stepmother at all.”

    One would think that Connor would learn to think before replying.

    “That’s because she really wasn’t.” He finally straightens up for good, his back better, now. “I think she only adopted us because we said we wanted to become jaeger pilots when we grew up. Well, I did, anyway.” Connor adds that last part softly, massaging his left palm with his right thumb.

    “Wait,” Josh blurts, “You said her name was Amanda?”

    “Yes?” Why does Josh look like he’s found the missing last piece to a 500 part jigsaw puzzle?

    “Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern? Do you share her last name?”

    Seeing how everyone’s eyes light up confuses Connor even more. He’s definitely missing something here.

    “Yes? Have you met her before or know somebody else who has?”

    “Have we met her!?” North suddenly exclaims, “Are you kidding me!? Only a small group of people have met her, everyone else just knows of her and her work! She’s a fucking legend among the jaeger pilot and special forces trainers! She always trains the best fighters! No wonder you two are so far out of our league! Especially if you’ve been in her care for so long!”

    “I didn’t realise she was popular.”

    “She’s more than just popular. She’s downright famous within the jaeger and military community.” Simon corrects.

    “I’m actually shocked you didn’t know. Did you never question what those gatherings were, as you and Ritch call them?” Josh asks.

    “Uh, no? Asking particularly dumb questions usually meant more work the next day for us, so neither of us wanted to ask. We just knew that wealthy people came over for conversation and drinks and we had to stay out of the way unless sought out and spoken to.”

    Markus seems to snap out of his silent contemplation then. “More work for asking dumb questions. A life wearing nothing but uniforms and sleepwear, little to no toys and electronics growing up despite her having the funds for more than enough. That mixed with how you guys are pretty much soldiers already and claim to have learned most of it on your own… She does not sound like someone who deserves the high praise she gets. It all sounds questionable at best.”

    “I mean… I guess? But she was only trying to get us used to following orders and stuff so we wouldn’t get in trouble here.” Right? “I don’t think she wasn’t a bad person? She just liked having things a certain way and was very determined to get it that way. We just weren’t good enough pilots for her in the beginning, is all. She was very nice and pleasant to us when we did something right, and always was to other people, too.”

    Whatever Markus is thinking, Simon catches on too. Maybe they have the telepathy thing that Connor and Ritch have, too. “Were you and Ritch holding back this morning?”

    Connor doesn’t know where this is going, but he doesn’t like it.

    “What do you mean? We were told to go all out so we could be evaluated properly.”

    “That’s what you were told to do,” Markus puts a kind hand on his shoulder. It’s oddly and undeniably comforting. “But did you actually?”

    “No. We held back.” Ritch’s voice says from the doorway, having just popped in, “We had to be at least a little more gentle than usual because we were on those thin mats, and not mud or thicker foam like we’re used to. But after seeing everyone else’s skill levels this morning, we decided it would be best to blend in and hold back more.”

    “What happened to keeping that hidden? What if Luther and Chloe find out?” Connor steps towards his brother, causing Markus’ hand to fall from his shoulder.

    “I see no reason to hide that from this group in particular.” Ritch remains as stoic and unbothered as always. “They’ve proven themselves to be trustworthy, and at least two of them had already figured it out. It’d be more effort to try to continue hiding it from them.” Connor goes to retort, but Ritch continues, “Why are you getting upset? I thought you wanted to come clean?”

    Connor has to curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw to keep the angered words and growls from leaving his mouth. It doesn’t help in the slightest that he never got to properly calm down from the fight earlier. He just fell asleep on the floor.

    “What brings you here, Ritch?” he asks calmly, instead.

    He rolls his eyes– a thing he would have gotten smacked for if they were still under Amanda’s roof, Connor’s brain supplies. “Well, you kind of stormed out earlier.”

    “That generally means that person doesn’t want to be in the other’s presence anymore.”

    “Oh would you stop being a child for two seconds and come with me to eat dinner. You need to eat and we can finish talking then.”

    Connor sharply looks to the side. “I’ll be there in a few. Go ahead without me.” He continues as Ritch opens his mouth to say something, “And if you just stay here and wait for me I will purposely skip dinner and breakfast tomorrow. And you know I’ve lasted longer without food before and it won’t faze me.”

    “And you know it won’t faze me either.”

    “Won’t it?” Connor usually lasted just over three days without food before giving in during Amanda’s “survival evaluations”. Ritch only lasted one and a half on average.

    There’s a heavy, tense silence where Connor is painfully aware of the other four’s presence, and that they have no clue what to make of this or how to handle it. Thankfully, Ritch caves first with a sigh.

    “Fine then, but I don’t want you near Mr. Anderson.”

    Connor clenches his fists and law. “Good thing you’re not my guardian or superior then.”

    “He is, though. Your superior.”

    “And he hasn’t kicked me off of his table yet. And don’t even claim that he could be letting me stay just to be polite or whatever. We both know he isn’t like that.”

    Another silence, less tense and much shorter this time, though. Yet it’s broken by Ritch’s sigh once more.

    “Fine.” He snaps, shaking his head, “It’s your life, your downfall, your embarrassment, and your panic attack when he comes to dislike you.” He turns around and starts walking out of the room. He doesn’t pause as he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t come crying to me this time. This will be all your doing, and I am not your guardian.”

    “Wasn’t going to.” the other half calls back.

    Well that was a disaster. Well, not so much of a disaster as a wreckage of notable size. Here Connor was, thinking that it would be himself that would ruin his relationship with Markus, North, Josh, and Simon, but oh no. No, it was going to be Ritch that destroyed it in the end. That robotic asshat.

    Well, time to do some damage control.

    “I am so sorry you guys had to see that–”

    “Are you two like this all the time?” Josh interrupts.

    His question makes him freeze and stumble over his previous thought. Why would he care how he and Ritch act around one another?

    “Yes and no? I mean, when we’re not talking business, we’re either doing our own thing and leaving each other alone or training together, but our arguments don’t usually last this long. It’s usually solved one way or another by now.” Connor takes a deep breath, and finally relaxes his fists and stature, not realizing he was tense for a fight. He turns to the group that is now cautious, not unlike treading on eggshells, but not treating him as if he were delicate or unpredictable. More like unsteady, if he was forced to choose a word. “You guys know how siblings are, after all. This will pass.”

    No one says or indicates anything. Are siblings not usually like this?

    Markus takes a step forward. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but were you and Ritch pitted against each other often?”

    Connor almost considers leaving the room right then, making use of the out he was given. He’s been talking way too much today, anyway; he feels the way his throat is getting hoarse with how much he’s been using his voice. On top of that, he just doesn’t want to go into detail about their training. He doesn’t want their opinions of him or Ritch to change because of what they’ve done in the past. Although, if his twin didn’t feel like waiting until they were alone to continue their dispute, then why should Connor spare him of this?

    “I was under the impression that everyone fought against their partner in order to train. It helps both trainees’ styles to be either complementary to one another or near identical, and it helps them think in similar or complementary ways during battles, too. Did you guys not spar against each other regularly?”

    “There’s a difference between sparring against your partner and being pitted against them, Connor.” North responds this time, uncharacteristically subdued.

    “Well, yes, I suppose so…” There are so many regrets right now. After this, he’s just not going to talk anymore. It’s not worth it.

    Simon takes a slow step forward, watching his reaction, “Stop me if I’m going too far, but were you guys ever told to fight with the intentions to harm or subdue each other, rather than just to train? ‘Cause that is usually considered illeg–”

    –hand in his hair, boot digging into his back. He can’t breathe, he may as well be drowning on the mud he’s being pushed into–

    “No.” he says with a sharp shake of his head. Whether it’s an answer to Simon’s question or a reaction to his thoughts, not even Connor himself knows.

    –he takes the knife from his leg, wincing and hissing as it tears through–

    No.

    –loses his grip, causing him to be pinned again. He can’t move his arm. Why can’t he move his arm?–

    No, no no no no no–

    –it’s cold in summer..? Why is my vision so blurry? Wait, why am I alone now? No, wait! Don’t leave me! Please! I’ll do better! I promise I’ll do bet–

    “Connor?!”

    Connor finally snaps out of it with a small gasp, realizing that his vision really is getting blurry, but for a different reason. Crying is extremely disgraceful and impolite, especially in front of others. You have to be on your best behavior in front of people, and crying and curling up on the ground is not good behavior. He straightens up and forcibly relaxes his posture, using a single knuckle to wipe the threatening tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s now that he realizes he was beginning to hyperventilate. He needs a minute to be alone and calm himself, but he doesn’t want to be left alone. He really doesn’t want to be left alone–

    Ah, but he isn’t alone right now and they won’t be leaving him, he can distantly hear them telling him that right now. Maybe there’s a chance they won’t completely avoid him in the near future. Although, for now, he needs to be fine, and his small group of allies certainly don’t see him as fine right now. He needs to calm down. He’s making a fool of himself in front of them. He needs to reassure them that he’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll definitely be fine–

    “Connor, I’m so sorry.”

    “No, it wasn’t your fault. I apologize for the way I reacted just then.” Manners are key, especially when forced to cut a conversation short. He bows his head with practiced grace, “And to answer your question, no, we weren’t ever told to fight each other with such an intent. Honestly. It– ah– we weren’t technically against each other…” He looks up at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly dinner time. “Ah, you guys came in here earlier for a reason and I just keep getting in the way. My apologies.” Markus opens his mouth to speak, but Connor doesn’t give him time. “Thank you for keeping me company, though.”

    “Connor, I’m sorry for asking–”

    No no no. Can’t think of that. Don’t think. It never happened. It was just a bad dream. Just think of it as a bad dream. Ritch said it would help. Amanda may lie, but Ritch doesn’t. Does he?

    “No no, you’re quite alright. You didn’t know, it wasn’t your fault. It’s natural for people to be curious, and it really wasn’t that bad. I simply have a habit of over reacting to things.” Connor tries to make his following laugh sound genuine, but falls short. “Well, I should go now. Dinner will be starting soon and you still have business to attend to. I’ll see you guys later if you’re interested.”

    Connor finally manages to shuffle out of the room, but he never makes it to dinner that night, even if he told Ritch he would. Despite what he just claimed, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk to them again. People hate when others are large burdens, and that’s exactly what he’s becoming for them. He thought he could be better with fresh, new faces, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. It’s not how it works. It won’t ever be how it works, so it’s better to just leave them alone and let them have peace.

    Ritch was right. He probably needs to start leaving Mr. Anderson alone. He understands now. Maybe he can still sit there to be alone? But why would he stay here at the base just to be alone? If he can’t even handle getting casual friends, how will he ever find a partner? And Connor’s replaceable in a way the ex-pilot is not, so they would not be nearly as patient with him.

    Does that mean he needs to quit after all? What could he even do if not this? What would Ritch do? Connor’s the reason he’s even here in the first place. He’s the reason Ritch will be stuck in a life style he never particularly wanted growing up. Why can’t Connor ever do anything right? Everyone is right, he’s too naive, too childish, too quick to get too deep into things. It needs to stop. He’ll pack his things tomorrow and tell the instructors about all of this and he’ll be gone by tomorrow evening or the next morning, whenever Ritch isn’t around. If Ritch finds out he’ll definitely blame Connor and make him stay with him as payback or something. Connor can’t stay, though. He’s useless.

    His room’s door opens with a creek, causing Connor to instinctively curl into himself, but he forces himself to relax and slow his breathing. If Ritch thinks he’s asleep when he gets back, he’ll leave him alone. With every footstep, adrenaline rushes through Connor. He’s distantly aware that he’s being like this because he’s afraid Ritch is going to pop out of nowhere and confront him, knowing he won’t have the energy to fight back now. They’ve been arguing all day and a good chunk of yesterday too, it’d only make sense for Ritch to try something like that.

    Instead of doing so, though, Connor simply changes into sleeping clothes and climbs into bed. The main light was never turned on, so the room has been coated in darkness from the start. After some time of resting, though, there’s the creak of the door, then a click accompanied by a soft, yellow light flooding the room. It stays on for a long while before Connor hears Ritch shifting around again. This time, the other twin climbs out of the lower bunk and sounds like he’s about to put on his real clothes again, but pauses in the process.

    “Connor.” The man in question can hear the stern frown in Ritch’s voice. He uses all of his self control to not stiffen because of it, but it apparently wasn’t good enough. “Connor, I know you’re up. Why didn’t you eat?” that same stern frown is likely still on his face.

    Connor doesn’t move, hoping that if he keeps up the act and ignores his racing heart, Ritch will convince himself that he was just seeing things. He knows it’s not a realistic thing to hope for, but still.

    “Connor, even if you weren’t up before, I know you would be by now. Why weren’t you in the food court? The others were.”

    No response. He remembers what he said before in the training room, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. It just makes things worse. Besides, his throat is still a bit scratchy.

    “Fine. Be a child. I don’t care. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.”

    No, wait, please don’t leave. I take it back, I’ll get better at talking so I can do it without messing up, like you can. I’ll teach myself how to respond better so I don’t have to worry about making things worse anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. I don’t want to be alone again. Please–

    “Connor?” Soft footsteps creep closer. “Are you crying?” If Connor didn’t know better, he’d almost say that Ritch sounded concerned.

    Before responding, he takes a shaky breath so he can speak without too many tremors in his voice. “I’m not crying.” Another, shorter breath. “It’s impolite and childish, especially in front of people.” The next breath is shakier, and definitely a give away that he’s slowly failing his attempt at not crying. “I’m fine. You need rest.”

    “Connor–”

    “You’re not my guardian. You don’t need to babysit me. Just let me self destruct like you said you would. It’s not even anything serious. Goodnight.” Just because his sleep schedule is going to be completely ruined, doesn’t mean Ritch’s has to be as well.

    “Connor…”

    He doesn’t respond.

    There’s a shuffle of Ritch sitting down on the bed as he asks, “Did they ask more questions?”

    “Yes, but you were there for them.” Maybe he’ll let him go to sleep if he plays along.

    “Was that the only thing they asked?”

    Connor sighs, annoyed. “Yes.”

    “What did they ask?”

    Connor finally makes himself sit up. “Ritch, I just said–”

    “Connor.” If a tone of voice could paralyze, Connor wouldn’t even be able to blink.

    He sighs again, this time in defeat. “If I tell you, would you let me sleep?”

    “Depends on if what I’m told and if it’s a lie or not.”

    Connor hesitates.

    “...if I promise to tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

    “Depends on what the truth is.”

    “Then no.”

    Ritch jumps up from where he sat on his lower bunk. “Connor! I swear to god–”

    “They brought it up, okay? God, are you happy now?”

    “Brought what up, Connor? Use your words–”

    “It.” he snarls, “They asked a question that made me think of when it happened. And I know you aren’t as affected by it as I am, but I can’t handle anything like you can. I just can’t...” Connor finally lets himself fall back down on his bed in a desperate attempt to hide the silent tears that are finally falling.

    This time, Ritch is the one that doesn’t have a response. Good. Let him think about when it happened. Let him suffer just like Connor was trying to avoid because he’s a nosy prick.

    Ritch heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I can talk to them about it tomorrow, try to calm them down. They’re probably very worried about you or both of us now.”

   Connor grunts. They probably should be worried, but he knows that leaving things as they are now would only make things worse for himself in the long run.

   “Connor.” Another grunt. “Please try to eat something tomorrow. I’ll talk to Luther to see if you can take tomorrow off. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

    “I’m not a child anymore.” he grumbles.

    “No, you’re not.” he agrees softly.

    Another grunt, this time followed by a heavy sigh. He won’t be getting that break. Even if he did get it, the chances of him being put in the danger zone of being sent home are more likely than most of the other trainees. If he can’t even handle being here for two days without becoming so completely and utterly useless, then what business does he have trying to be a fully-fledged pilot? None, that’s the answer.

    He is distantly aware that Ritch has started trying to talk to him again, but Connor really just wants to go to sleep and forget about today, and so he does. He assumes his twin goes to bed soon after he did, though, because when he tries to wake Connor up for breakfast the next morning, he appears to be well rested. No obvious dark circles or bags under his eyes, no sluggish movements, his eyes clear. That’s good. Ritch will do just fine here. He knows how to talk like a normal human being and responds to others well. He’ll definitely find a new partner in no time.

    Ritch walks out the door. Connor almost tries to get up to get ready for class, then figures that if he’s actually going to quit soon, then he may as well just stay put. Therefore, he’s still in bed by the time breakfast ends and the first class begins. No one tries to come get him. He’s not surprised, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting. He tries to convince himself that it’s just because Ritch told everyone that he needs a day off, but, if anything, that makes the sting in his chest worse for some reason.

    He’ll try going in after lunch, after he’s had some time to settle down a bit.

    After deciding on that, he goes to his dresser drawer and pulls out the small bottle of strong sleeping essential oil that Ritch and Amanda have no clue he has, let alone needs often enough for it to maybe be unhealthy. Here, he has it stuffed in the back of his dresser-locker under some clothes. He rubs a bit of it onto his foot then pulls a sock on because he doesn’t want that horrendous smell getting all over his sheets. His head doesn’t even quite make it onto the pillow properly before he’s out like a light.

    Sleeping means no thinking, and no thinking means no stressing, after all, and that oil does a damn good job at knocking people out.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait! I promise future updates won’t take this long! I’m just in the middle of a move and  life kinda bitch slapped me outta no where there for a hot minute, but I think things are going better now. The next update probably won’t be as soon as I want it to be, but y’all won’t have to wait four months again Lol. Thank you to anyone who stuck around this long, despite me being new Heheh 😄 Thank you for reading and I hoped y’all didn’t hate it!! I absolutely promise that next chapter will be filled with lots of comfort and fluff!! 😄💖💕