#i usually dodge the question or say something else but i need to speak my truth somewhere

[saintknightley]

i do want to get a new job but it’s really hard to tell people the reason you aren’t applying to jobs is because last time you were it made your mental health so bad and you got so paranoid that you were convinced people were going to come to your house and shoot you about it

[chaiifluuf]

Underneath the stars, looking for a sign — d. osamu

synopsis. dazai stops by your apartment well past midnight, seeking out to you for solace

content. pm!dazai, pm!reader, fem!reader, angst(?), reverse comfort, unestablished relationship, a mention of double suicide

notes. my writing makes me want to sink six feet underground cuz this looked better in my head :,)

dazai thinks he shouldn’t be here.

not only was it past midnight but he has never appeared out of blue like this on your doorstep either.

with a quiet breath he knocks on your door. a moment passes and nothing happens. he expected this because why would you be awake right now? this must be his last chance to leave and the temptation to do so grows with each second. dazai doesn’t see a point in knocking for a second time if you really were asleep. yeah, he should go, stop bothering you and get a hold of himself. just what was he even—

as dazai is about to turn around, he hears the sound of fiddling from the door lock and freezes in place. were you not asleep? 

the door opens and he’s greeted by your noticeably sleepy figure. so you actually heard his one time knocking through your slumber.

“osamu?” you break the silence with your soft, somewhat confused tone. while he did hear you say his name, all his mind could focus was on you. god how did you always manage to look so perfect? your hair is rather messy, your face seemed tired, you were wearing an oversized shirt with pyjama shorts that had strawberries on it. all of that and you still looked breathtaking to him. he then quickly realises that he needs to say something.

“hey, sorry i woke you up.” dazai responds shortly, hoping you didn’t notice his staring. you blink once then twice, his words not giving you any sort of explanation. “did something happen.? it’s the middle of the night right now…” you question while slightly leaning against the doorframe. he can hear the sleep in your voice. 

“well, i guess i was wondering if you were feeling up for a double suicide?” a familiar, subtle yet playful smile appears on his lips, his tone calm. it doesn’t phase you in the least. your brows furrow and you give him an odd look, not falling for his antics.

“you think i’ll actually believe that? what’s the real reason?” you respond with a tired sigh yet the small concern is there. of course you wouldn’t fall for that, you knew him better than anyone else. but it was worth a try.

dazai isn’t certain what answer to give you right away. he swears his mind has gone blank the moment you appeared before him. 

“can i stay here tonight?” he asks instead, dodging the question. his voice came out softer than he expected and he’s sure he seems pathetic now, the regret coming here slowly returning.

your brows raise a little in surprise. you were still sure something is up but the way how different he was acting from his usual self made you even more worried.

“you can but I can’t guarantee that my couch is the comfiest thing to sleep on.” you say after a moment, a yawn escaping past your lips afterwards. dazai lets out a breath he didn��t realise he was holding. he couldn’t bring himself to care where he was supposed to sleep, if it was at your apartment that alone is already enough for him.

he comes inside and when he makes it to the living room, you speak up: “i’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.” you mention before going to the bedroom.

dazai returns his gaze to your living room, noticing all the small parts of you decorating the space: different scented candles on your window sills, fairy lights hanging on the wall, a phone charger laying on the floor, a vase of lilies placed on the table and next to it a plate with a few muffins on it. reminds dazai of the time you told him how you sometimes liked to bake in your free time and that he should definitely taste them on another day. you really had a bright personality for someone who works for the port mafia.

even from far away and the room still being rather dark, he could tell they looked delicious and probably tasted even better. dazai believes anything made by you would simply be perfect. he has seen the way your eyes shine whenever you talk about things you’re passionate about and he feels like he could listen to you forever. just your voice was enough to make his day better.

you come back with the bed linen that you promised to get, setting it down on the couch. you almost immediately notice dazai’s glance directed to your muffins and a smile grows on your face.

“go ahead and try it, i promise they’re the best muffins i have ever made.” you say with a pleased tone, clearly proud of yourself. he turns his gaze back to you, letting out a soft chuckle. “i’m sure they are, i just don’t really have an appetite right now.” he’s aware that he hasn’t eaten anything in the past few hours because he just can’t bring himself to do so.

but dazai regretted saying that instantly, seeing how your smile faltered.

“that’s fine.” you tell him calmly and shrug it off but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. he really hoped you didn’t take this the wrong way since the last thing he’d want is to upset you. his lips part to say something but no words come out. however, you have already decided to change the topic.

“so, are you going to tell me why you’re actually here?” your eyes are tender yet a little serious at the same time as you look at him. you really weren’t letting that question go but he couldn’t blame you. you had every right to ask that.

a moment of silence passes before dazai replies: “felt like it.” it’s not like he can tell you the real reason. he’s not ready to explain how corrupted his thoughts were back at his dull and cold shipping container, how his own mind started overwhelming him and how he needed to leave from there just so he could breathe normally again. everything seemed meaningless and tiring before the thought of you entered his head. 

he found the fact that thinking about you helped him calm down kind of ridiculous. over time he has gotten more attached to you than he likes to admit. you are the only person who has managed to get this close to his heart, heart that he thought was incapable of feeling anything other than emptiness.

your features softened after hearing him. dazai is not sure why because surely you have no idea what he was feeling. did his expression give him away? he hopes not.

“if you don’t want to tell me then just say so, okay?” dazai will never comprehend how understanding you were. he was being unfair to you and yet here you were not pushing anything out of him with that kind look in your eyes. making it seem as if he deserved any of that. 

“anyways i’m going back to bed now. good night, osamu.” a yawn leaves your mouth as soon as you say that and you send him one last glance before walking to your bedroom. dazai replies with a quiet good night as well and you close the door behind you.

he sighs before putting his black coat away and deciding to lay down. he stares at the ceiling and even with closing his eyes from time to time, falling asleep is near impossible as always. and you were right, this couch is starting to feel uncomfortable. dazai lifts himself up and looks at your closed door. he guesses that about half an hour has passed since you left, you must be asleep by now. dazai can’t help but envy you for getting sleep so easily. the rest he receives is usually by passing out from exhaustion.

staying the whole night here was hopeless, he’s already aware of that. but then he gets a new idea. he stands up and stops in front of your door. dazai hesitates because what if you were awake? that would make this more awkward but he could complain about the couch and that’d give him an excuse. an excuse to sleep next to you.

he stops himself from dwelling on the matter too much and very gently opens the door. the moment he steps in, he’s greeted with your peaceful state, vague moonlight shining down on you. dazai can feel his heart swell because how is someone simply sleeping able to look this stunning? he slowly moves next to your bed, to the left side that had more space and, as carefully as he can, slips between your sheets. this is much more comfortable in comparison to your couch.

dazai lets his head rest against the pillow, his eyes locked on you since fortunately you were facing his side. there is a soft glint in his eyes as he gently tucks some of your hair strands behind your ear. your face features were even prettier close up and after a while he realises something. a part of him wishes to wake up like this everyday, your face being the first thing he’ll see, the chance to be this close to you. a true luxury that dazai thinks he would never be deserving of. after all, why would a person like you be with someone like him?

a subtle noise from you is enough to snap him out of his trance. he wonders if you’re about to wake up but before he could come to a conclusion, you shift a little and slightly nuzzle your face to the palm of his hand that was laying beside you. dazai’s body tenses as he isn’t sure if he should pull his hand away or not. there was no way that you knew he was here. looks like you just stirred in your sleep. he let out a relieved breath, gradually relaxing again. just the warmth radiating from you is more than enough to ease his worries. 

dazai wonders if you know how much you mean to him. probably not. he could never express it enough anyway. but it also scares him because that means the world can rip you away from him in any moment and he literally doesn’t know what he’ll do if that were to happen. dazai told himself from the beginning that he should avoid you at all costs but he has already failed that part. you had him hooked around your finger in a way that you didn’t even realise.

he closes his eyes, now focusing on your touch and faint breathing. maybe if you are right next to him he could doze off for a little while. he can imagine your reaction once you’re aware he’s in your bed in the morning but it will be worth it. anything is worth it as long as it’s with you. dazai decides to make one small promise before trying to focus on sleeping.

he will definitely try your muffins later.

hope this was okay, thank you if you made it this far ^^

[kirschteinoir]

just thinking about kuroo after the battle of the dumpster...

saw the haikyuu movie and cannot stop thinking about this man!!! kuroo is such an important character to the story and i'm glad his boobs are as big as his love for the game <3 when i tell you i was giggling kicking my feet in my chair whenever he appeared on screen... (≧◡≦) ♡

warnings; teensy bit angsty but has a happy ending i promise!!! mild spoilers for the battle of the dumpster movie and the timeskip

didn’t allow himself to be upset about losing to karasuno until he was alone late at night. for the first time in a while he allowed himself to stay up until the early morning, taking a leaf out of kenma’s book. after everyone else had gone to sleep, he snuck downstairs and re-watched the TV highlights of the match, scrutinising every detail (against his better judgement). he probably doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he can feel snot starting to drip down his lips and he momentarily grosses himself out. but he just lets himself cry and cry, horrible choking sobs that he has to hide behind the sleeve of his jacket so he doesn't wake anyone up. god forbid his team (or coach nekomata) see their giant jokester of a captain expressing his emotions!!!

the ride back home the next day is awkwardly silent. he does his best to remain chipper but he also knows his team needs time to recover and gather their emotions. he makes idle talk with kai since yaku is constantly in tears, who seems to be much calmer than everyone else, and kinda just stares out of the window, chin against his palm, until they pull up outside the school.

he doesn’t see kenma for a few days after the match. partly because kenma has a fever and is sleeping it off, but partly because he doesn’t know what to say to him. especially after the whole ‘thanks for getting me into volleyball’ moment… how do you even begin to talk about something like that? should he even talk about it? or is it something that should be preserved in the moment?

he spends the next few days resting his sore muscles, dodging questions from his dad about how the game went, thinking about how he was going to go to school next week and act like a normal high-schooler again despite feeling like a part of him has died. no more practice, no more volleyball at nekoma high.

of course, everyone at school congratulates the team. they get a shoutout in the school assembly on monday morning and have to awkwardly face the entire school as the principal describes how close they were to winning. it takes a lot for him to not burst into tears again on stage.

a lot of fellow students were cheering them on in the stands and kuroo makes sure to thank everyone sincerely for believing in them as they approach him in the school corridors. people always mention that it was such bad luck that the ball was covered in sweat, causing it to slip in kenma’s hands. kuroo’s smile is strained as he laughs it off, not knowing whether it was worse that their final mistake was something they couldn’t have ever controlled or if he would have preferred it to be a matter of bad technique.

unknowingly he regresses into himself, becoming less talkative and more serious for a short period after the game. it would be especially bad at the end of the school day, when he and kenma would usually meet up and head to the boy’s changing room together for practice. he instinctively packs his gym bag for a while, always realising too late that he didn’t need to bring it with him anymore and then being stuck with it for the rest of the day like some cruel taunt.

eventually he graduates, and real-life problems start replacing the loss of volleyball in his life. he knows the world moved on and now so must he. he speaks to his dad a lot about where he’s going to go after he graduates - he’s always done well in school and performed strongly in the entrance exams he took so he ends up at a decent university in the city, moves away from home (and kenma) to make new friends and start again

on his first day in his new dorm all alone, he feels the introverted, timid kid from his childhood start to resurface again. he thinks he might vomit but he shakes himself out of it momentarily by unpacking his sparse belongings, including his nekoma jacket. it’s comfy, he thinks to himself, and it would be a waste of a jacket if he’d left it to collect dust at home.

thankfully, his lectures and assignments keep him busy for a good month or so once semester starts. at first he texts kenma almost everyday but the younger boy starts to see how kuroo's replies get further apart and much shorter. kenma is still the team’s setter so he doesn’t exactly have free time either, but he wishes kuroo would maybe video call him soon, or at least come home to visit every now and then.

on the whole, kuroo enjoys his first year of university. he’s studying business and joined the uni’s volleyball society and team, through which he made a few friends. people recognise him too, as the captain of the red guys that played that one intense match against karasuno last spring. he’s like ‘yep that’s me :D’ before he thinks about the last time he contacted yaku, kai, kenma or anyone from his life one year ago. he feels guilty and that night, over a bowl of rice and some grilled mackerel, he replies to all of kenma’s awaiting texts (three of them) AND shoots yaku a message about his latest inter-university volleyball match. he also calls his dad, who tells him his sister is back in town and to come home and see her if he can spare the time.

let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a human on earth that kuroo tetsurou doesn’t have chemistry with. he’s definitely fairly popular and the guy that everyone wants to invite out because he always makes it a good time. also had a girlfriend or two (maybe even a boyfriend???) but wasn’t really looking for anything solid so graduated single, much to many peoples' despair.

university got easier when kenma joined him a year later. he helped the younger get acquainted with campus and all the ins and outs of what the students like to do but kenma was never going to be a party animal or a socialite so their dynamic from high-school was largely unchanged. it was just that kenma was now becoming famous and was making shit-loads of money… kuroo was in awe of what kenma had made of his life so far and i feel like he inspired him once again to pursue something he was passionate about, no matter how unconventional it may be

stopped playing volleyball for a while after graduating to work some odd jobs, constantly looking for that one thing that he would do until he would die

one of his uni teammates told him about an internship at the JVA and pushed him to apply for it. of course his application was stellar: interest in volleyball from a young age, outstanding academic performance, captain of his highschool VB team? he was their dream hire

the day he got the internship he invited coach nekomata out for drinks. just the two of them. kuroo still reveres nekomata like a god, despite the older man telling tetsurou he has far surpassed him by now. kuroo remains humble, unconvinced that his future work at JVA would even hold a candle to what nekomata did for him when he was younger. they talk about the nationals match and how it could’ve ended differently, they talk about the nekoma high volleyball club as it is currently and nekomata laments that under kuroo’s leadership it was truly the strongest they’ve ever been. they talk about hinata and kageyama and bokuto and oikawa and all these names from their past excelling in their professional volleyball careers and kuroo realises in his heart of hearts that he wants to be in that world too. maybe not on the court itself but definitely on the sidelines pulling the strings, connecting people. lowering the net.

about me. 

[syn4k]

(this work is a continuation of this post! if you haven't read it yet, please read it first for context)

Meanwhile in the Overworld, Xisuma was trying his best to not get K.O'ed by a gaggle of guardians.

He sluggishly dodged a beam in the salty water, turning around quickly just to see another hit him square in the helmet. With a sigh, he clambered out of the water and flew towards the safety of the portal a few blocks above to get some milk. Guardian wrangling was always exhausting, even when you hadn't been going at it for hours. X considered that maybe he needed a day off to take a good long nap. Maybe that day should be today.

The portal behind him whispered, speaking of someone coming through, and he turned around to see none other than Mumbo Jumbo stumble onto the stone platform he had built, holding a shulker box.

Internally, he shelved that thought with a sigh. He'd have to take a break later.

"'Ello," he said, pleasantly surprised. "Anything else you need, or were you just dropping by?"

"Well," said Mumbo, pushing his hair out of his face, "I got really really lost on my way to your portal to ask you this. Like, really lost."

"Are you alright?" asked X with concern. Mumbo did look- well, he always looked at least a little tired, but tireder than usual.

"I ran into your brother," said Mumbo.

"That doesn't answer my question," said X with a (hopefully silent) sigh.

"Okay, so you know how I left the server a few months back to go on vacation?" asked Mumbo, putting down the shulker box and, after a moment's hesitation, sitting down on it.

"Yep."

"Well I got back and uh, well, there's a lot more diamonds in there than I remember putting in," said Mumbo, patting the side of the box. "I figured since I'd run into EX instead of you, he might have-"

"They," corrected X automatically.

"Right, sorry," said Mumbo. "I figured they might have known where the diamonds went."

"Please don't tell me they tried to extort you of your money," said X with a sigh. "I can get you some of what you lost if you need-"

"No, no, they didn't," said Mumbo quickly. "Actually, they said something about it being too easy to just say it was theirs? They're the one who pointed me over here, actually. I think h- they just wanted to be rid of me, to be honest."

Xisuma hummed thoughtfully. "That tracks too," he said. "Anyways, no, I haven't lost any diamonds either."

"Huh," said Mumbo. "Any idea who might have?"

X paused another minute, looking at the shulker box Mumbo was sitting on then back to Mumbo then back to the box. He had a suspicion, but...

"Mind if I take a look at what's in it?" he asked. Mumbo nodded and X walked over and opened it. Inside sat gleaming stacks of diamond blocks and deepslate diamond ore, the blocks hastily assembled.

Ah.

So that's what was going on.

"I have an inkling," he said, standing back up and handing the box back to Mumbo, "that Ren might know more on this subject than I."

"Alright," said Mumbo with a nod. "Thanks for the lead, X. I'll make sure- I'll make sure to ask him."

"Before you go, is there anything else that EX said to you?" asked X as Mumbo stepped back to the portal. "I know they keep to themself mostly, but I'd like to know if they're planning on pulling something."

"Uh, not really, no," said Mumbo, scratching the back of his head.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, there was something about me going to therapy for anxiety," said Mumbo with a short laugh. "I'm not sure if it was actual advice or an insult."

X wanted to sigh so badly in that moment, but he kept it in check for the sake of his guest. "Yeah, that sounds like something they'd do," he said with a nod.

"Do you- do you figure they were right?" asked Mumbo, looking him in the eyes for the first time that meeting. "I just wanted a second opinion on it."

Xisuma took a long look at the man in the suit who was known serverwide as the nervous wreck with a moustach, currently tapping fingers on his pants leg. He had seen the man be confident exactly once in season 6, and never again before or since. Despite their shortcomings, EX was a good judge of character, and... yeah, he agreed with them on this.

"If you feel like it would help you," he said finally with a shrug, trying to keep his tone as lighthearted as possible, "I know either Cleo or Joe have some sort of degree in that sort of thing."

"Huh," said Mumbo. "Never would have expected that from Cleo. Well, thanks again," he said, putting one foot into the portal and giving a wave. "I'll update you if anything happens."

"See you, my friend," called X, giving back a wave of his own. He waited silently for a few seconds after Mumbo was through the other side of the portal before turning back to his rudimentary storage system with a deep sigh and a small chuckle.

"Good Lord," he muttered to himself, pulling out his comms and typing in a message to EX.

<Xisuma> By the way, Mumbo just dropped by and I told him to go to either Cleo or Joe for therapy <Xisuma> Thanks for bringing that up, I think we've been trying to schedule him an appointment under the table but nobody knows how to do that politely lol <EvilXisuma> finally. thank hels <EvilXisuma> that man was giving me secondhand embarrassment just by existing <Xisuma> hey, be nice to the man, he has anxiety <EvilXisuma> no shit, sherlock

X sighed and put his comm back in his pocket. Maybe he'd take that off day today after all.

[skylarstark4826]

Harry a Uma "Uma is you who I love, you are my girlfriend"

************************************************************************ During the celebration, Harry thinks about his feelings after Uma's rejection, when trying to kiss her while he danced with Audrey. Harry ends up getting her help on how to correctly declare himself to his army Uma

************************************************************************ After Uma's rejection when trying to kiss her, Harry is going to dance with Audrey who, seeing what had happened between him and Uma, decides to help him by giving him advice on how to win Uma's heart.

************************************************************************ It was somewhat humiliating, to say the least. Standing alone at a party full of people. There were three other people with him just two seconds ago, but such a voice may have been too excited and one of them may have thrown Lena into the fire. Harry Hook, a week before this day, had spent more than half a year without his captain, and he was a miserable boy. As next in command, he was in charge of the crew, but every time he had to think like a captain, he only thought of his captain. When they finally met, everything was fine. Normal, in fact. They had acted as if the last handful of months had never happened, that she never plunged through the barrier to urge King Ben to love her, which resulted in losing another battle against Mal and getting lost in the sea. In fact, they were closer than ever. They were no longer limited to the hook grips and the reflective moments of contact. They were hugging each other. And not like the usual hand to grab the "thank you for the training game" log. These were real hugs. The guy in which he held her against his chest while she clung to his shoulders for a brief moment in time, or the guy in which he lifted her in the air and made her turn as if she had no weight. It was new, and it was great. Maybe now things are different now, Harry thought as he danced with her. Well, not with her. She was dancing with Evie, and he was behind her, at a respectful distance, of course. However, he longed to be by her side again, to embrace her closely as he had done before. There was something new there, but I had to be sure before asking him directly. Villainous children are not the best with things like "love" or "affection". However, they knew something very similar to both: jealousy.

"¿So she's definitely not single?"

I could already feel Uma's incredulous look bored on the side of her face before her question about Mal. He almost didn't hear Evie's response. He was too busy measuring Uma's reaction from his peripheral vision. He had his attention, that was for sure, so he went on to look at Evie. Dopey's son was the first to say something, reminding Harry that he was actually her boyfriend. For a moment, Harry couldn't help but admire that title. I wish I could endure it on behalf of someone else. He felt a hard slap on his arm. Speaking of names.

"¿What's my name?"

Yep, there's the reaction that Harry was looking for, the demand for his attention. That had to count for something, didn't it? Six months ago, he would have leaned on one knee and whispered his name as if it were his last breath, but when he turned to her and realized how close they were, he didn't want to risk further separation. I also didn't want to miss another moment in the flare as I used to do. I wanted to take advantage of the moment.

"Uma"

He said simply before bowing to finally give him his first kiss. But then she dodged him. …She pushed him. …She stepped back, pushed him back and walked away, a feeling of urgency in his step as if he needed to be somewhere else, or anywhere other than near him. And now, Harry was alone. Doug and Evie had left after Uma left, leaving him in a sadly open space in the crowd. He straightened up, cleared his throat and looked around for something, anything he could do to get his mind out of that mistake. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by optimistic Auadonians, none of whom were people he knew or whom he could easily approach with a pointed hook in his hand. Until one approached him. Well, I actually dance towards him, it would be more precise. A pink blur spread towards him, and he had to extend a hand to the stranger to prevent them from being knocked both down. When he finally glimpsed her face, he realized that it was Princess Audrey, dressed in a much less terrifying outfit than the last time he saw her.

"Hi"

It was all he could gather. No cunning flirting came to my mind after being brutally and humiliatingly rejected by Uma.

"Hi"

Audrey told him in return before giving him a small bow in the greeting. Before Harry could react, she took his hand, turned him under his arm and threw him back into the dancing crowd.

"¿What are you doing?"

Harry laughed nervously, he was already looking for Uma. If she caught him dancing with another girl, it would be the end of... Well, whatever they've been doing.

"I saw you as if you needed a saving"

Audrey replied, with a good glow in her eyes. They fell into rhythm with the music, mixing with the crowd of teenagers dancing around them.

"I know I wouldn't like to be caught alone at a party as big as this, so I thought you might want a friend."

"¿Do you want to be my friend?"

Harry asked, narrowing his eyes under suspicion.

"From what I've heard, you were never too fond of vks, even before you met us, so. ..."

Audrey's little smile falteled, and her gaze fell on her feet of guilt. When he looked back at him, his expression was solemn.

"Maybe I was also hoping to make a friend"

He cleared his throat.

"Or at least, excuse me for all the problems I caused you... and thank you for saving Auradon from me."

Now Harry felt uncomfortable. I wasn't used to someone seeming so hopeful to regret it. Usually, after a comment like his, he faced an equally bitter challenge about his own gloomy past. On the other hand, this was Auradon, land of good. Maybe he also needed to adjust his attitude.

"For a princess, I'm sure you know how to cushion the mood at a party"

Harry tried to make a joke, offering an unbalanced smile to Audrey. She laughed a little at his comment and shook her head in a good mood.

"Well, at least I didn't scare my baby at a party"

Audrey told him mischievously, although the meaning of his comment fell on deaf ears.

"What about me?"

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Your baby"

Audrey repeated, a little surprised that she didn't know what she meant.

"You know, ¿'Before anyone else'? ¿That special person?"

Harry just kept looking confused. Audrey rolled her eyes.

"Uma"

It was clarified

"I'm talking about Uma."

"Oh shit"

Harry murmured, embarrassed as he reflected on what had just happened between him and his captain

"¿Did you see it?"

Audrey nodded in affirmation. To what Harry shyly scratched the back of his neck

"Was it really that bad?"

"She literally ran to the other side of the crowd"

Audrey answered seriously.

"You tell me."

Harry sighed, once again taking a look to make sure that Uma couldn't see him. Audrey realized her anxious behavior and tried to think of a way to relieve her tension, but her situation was very… one-sided at this time.

"Hey, I'm sure he couldn't see it been worse"

Audrey told him trying to comfort him, although he might not have said it at all seriously.

"I mean, I wouldn't be very happy if my boyfriend asked about other girls, but I'm sure you have a reasonable explanation."

"¿Boyfriend?"

That word caught Harry's attention in Audrey's rambling. He shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, Uma and I are not boyfriends, I haven't really asked her..."

He took a deep breath, remembering his thoughts and organizing his words before saying them, this time with much more care.

"We are just colleagues and friends."

"¿Really?"

Audrey asked in disbelief.

"Am, Sip.…".

"Wow"

Audrey reflected out loud.

"Sorry for assuming otherwise, I thought you were boyfriends because I remember that when you were singing and dancing in the scepter, the two of you together, so I assumed it… I'm sorry."

"Yes, then. ..."

Harry said although now with sadness.

"You weren't the only one who made false illusions."

Audrey looked at him with a bewildered expression for a moment, deciphering the underlying meaning in his words. Then, he realized the longing in his eyes as he looked at the other end of the clearing, where he saw no one else and nothing but Uma, dancing with the rest of his pirate crew.

"Ooooh"

Audrey smiled at him at last understanding it.

"You are 'only friends', but you wish you two were more than just friends."

Keeping his eyes on Uma, where they were so accustomed to staying, Harry pressed his mouth on a firm line. For so long he had kept his unspoken feelings. The only person close enough to him to tell him would be Uma herself, and the idea of telling him was terrifying. Now he had the opportunity to tell someone he barely knew, and he was actually considering it.

"On the Island"

He began to say in a very sad voice

"We don't really know the 'feelings' or 'falling in love' or anything like that"

He turned with his hands, taking his eyes away from his captain in favor of the silver instrument

"But she was acting differently in Auradon, so I thought maybe we could be different."

Audrey's lips pulled a small smile. Since Hades saved his life, he had thought a lot about his opinions about the VKS, and this book of pirates with a weakness for his friend clearly demonstrated what he concluded even more: they are all people with feelings. A villain has the ability to love as much as a hero has the ability to be bad.

"Well, I've learned something in the last few days"

Audrey told him wisely.

"It's just that keeping your feelings inside you won't benefit anyone."

He looked at her in bewilderment, and she nodded in Uma's direction.

"Go talk to her."

"¿Where would it start?"

Harry wondered, feeling like a useless tool.

"Well, an apology for being an idiot could be a good start"

Audrey joked. Then he took a quick look around him.

"However, I could recommend a more private location if you want to be honest with her."

"¿And do you think that would work, Audrey?"

Harry hesitated, but again, he was raised by villains. He had no other alternative in his back pocket.

"Just a way to find out"

Audrey gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, effectively pushing him in the direction of the girl of his dreams.

"Thank you, Audrey"

He said with a small smile before remembering something he forgot to mention

"Oh and by the way, my name is Harry."

"¡GO!"

Audrey encouraged, now pushing Harry away. As pleasant as it was to talk to someone without status or history being a problem, he felt excited to think that he could help another person to be happy. Now she really felt like one of the heroines. Harry approached the noisy group of pirates as if nothing totally out of the ordinary had happened. He got drunk with Jonas, gave Desiree a playfully rough slap on the back and kept up with the buzzing emotion that everyone felt when they were in Auradon for the first time. He almost forgot about his personal mission until he almost entered Uma.

"Hello Uma"

He said quickly, urgently to get his attention before she shrunk him again. He crossed his arms and dropped his hip, waiting expectantly for what he was going to say. He cleared his throat, almost drowning with the foreign words

"Hey, listen to me. ... Uma, I'm sorry."

"Wow, ¿is Harry Hook apologizing to me?"

Uma gasped, squeezing a hand against her chest with an exaggerated shock. There was a clue to a smile playing on his lips, betraying his bitter tone.

"I guess Auradon's kindness works faster than we thought."

"I'm sorry"

Harry started again, maintaining eye contact with a fierce determination.

"For having been an idiot with you before."

Uma nodded, impressed by the gesture, but still hesitated to respond. She herself couldn't explain what was going on with them, but she knew as well as he did that there was something. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice when Harry took her hand with her free hand, in doing so both he and she felt sparks fly which made them feel a tingling in their palms still taken.

"Uma"

He said it in a low voice, throwing Uma away for a moment. I could hardly hear it because of the commotion.

"I really want to enjoy today with you and with our team."

He took a deep breath, gaining determination for the slightest softening of his expression.

"But there is definitely something we have to talk about later."

Uma took a moment to think, putting her lips together and looking at Harry up and down until she finally raised her other hand and wrapped a finger around the curve of her hook.

"Then save the conversation for later"

Uma smiled at him, somewhat blushing

"Let's enjoy the day."

Harry smiled, was relieved to have survived the encounter, and did what his captain said. They danced with their team, chatted with friends, old and new, and at the end of the party, everyone made their way under the arch of the castle in groups. Walking side by side with Uma was natural for Harry. What also felt natural for both of them was to join their arms just as they passed under the arch. It was a movement as fluid as swinging a machete, and none of them questioned it. Harry stood straighter as Uma leaned towards him, laughing all the way through the tunnel. In fact, they would have an interesting talk. The night had quickly fallen on Auradon, the day was swept away by the constant party followed by a voracious meal, and now the logistical part arrived: ¿Where were the newcomers going to stay?. Uma was working with Ben and Mal to put each villain child in a bedroom and each villain in a temporary living space. Harry understood that they needed additional help with the organization, so he left Uma to do her job. They agreed to meet later for their "chat". Meanwhile, Harry decided to walk around the school, taking the night air as he passed through the lush grass. It was hard to believe that in a few hours he would stay in one of those rooms, with air conditioning and silk sheets in abundance. It had taken a long time to arrive. A long time, but they were finally in Auradon. A flash of pink in the corner of Harry's vision caught his attention. He glanced at the stairs and saw Audrey standing on the steps, with one hand hanging freely from the railing. Thinking that he had some plenty of time, he went to her. When his steps reached Audrey's ears, she turned to him, with a friendly smile that welcomed him to his company.

"¿And what could a princess like you be doing here alone?"

Harry asked with a mocking sense of the cavalry. Even so, part of it was really curious. Audrey returned her attention to where she was: upstairs. Harry followed his eyes and discovered that he was looking at the highest tower of Auradon Prep, where he was standing only a few nights before, when he was still looking for revenge. Harry realized that this was a tense moment for her, since the silence lasted longer than she expected. Finally, Audrey sighed deeply.

"I liked to feel powerful"

He admitted, with a guilty edge that got into his tone.

"In fact, I enjoyed the idea of destroying Auradon if that meant that he could be the Queen, but..."

He crawled, biting his lip against a wave of sadness.

"... I never felt uglier in my life."

Harry took off an eyebrow in question, but he didn't say anything. This personal confession was without realizing it, and he knew that it was better than packing in the past luggage of a vulnerable woman (speaking from experience, of course). She was only telling him what she was ready to do, and he was fine being that friendly ear. That friend, in fact.

"All my life, I thought that being a princess and having status was what made me beautiful"

He continued, looking down at his hands.

"But I never realized that it was really horrible on the inside."

Now, Harry was a little lost. He didn't know her so well, so he didn't know she had a history of being a little obsessed with her real status. As much as he knew, she tried to take revenge on Auradon, and that's her whole story. He can't blame her. He supported Uma in the same effort.

"Well, I don't know anything about that, what he sighs"

Harry, trying to sound sincere. He climbed a step so he could put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"But from what I've seen today, I'd say you have some beauty to spare."

Audrey gave him a grateful smile. She was lucky to have danced with him. She had to admit that he was handsome and attractive, but she could say from a mile away that her heart is with another person. She wouldn't want to get in the way of people in love. She knew how she felt. Audrey put a hand on Harry's, a silent thank you to her new friend. Their comfortable moment stopped abruptly when they heard someone else clear their throat.

"¿Am I interrupting something?"

Harry turned, moving his arm away from Audrey, and found Uma standing behind him, with her arms crossed with a glow of disapproval stuck on his face. His apparent agitation went unnoticed by Harry, since he was only excited to see her.

"Hey, Uma"

He greeted her with an enthusiastic wave of his hook. He took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed his shoulders to have control despite the multiple butterflies in his stomach.

"¿Ready for that talk?"

"Saving your stupid talk, Harry"

Uma deviated, her low and monotonous tone. Harry's smile fell when he saw his hurt look he was looking at them between him and Audrey

"I've had enough of you for a day."

Uma turned around and began to get out of the clearing. Harry was frozen in his place, unable to make a move or even say a word. What has changed? He wondered, putting the scene back in his head. Even in the darkness of the night, he was able to clearly remember a touch of emotion in his expression.…¿Pain?.…He looked at Audrey, the panic was as evident in her face as in her bowels.

"I... I'm really sorry, Audrey"

He apologized quickly.

"I need to run away and solve all this."

"¿What are you still doing here then?"

Audrey asked rhetorically, pushing him with her hands.

"¡ANDALE, GO LOOK FOR HER NOW, HARRY!"

With a kind nod to the princess, Harry turned his heel and screwed himself in the direction in which Uma was heading. He clearly hurried to get out of there quickly because Harry felt that he had run a marathon when he found Uma approaching the edge of the Royal Garden.

"¡UMA!"

She ignored his calls, accelerating the pace in an attempt to evade him or at least convey that she didn't want to talk.

"¡UMA!"

"Leave me alone, Harry"

Uma snarled when he finally caught up with her. Harry ran in front of her to block her route, and the first thing he tried to do was walk around her. He eluded himself, keeping her in front of him. He held his arms in an extra measure to stop her and as the first line of defense.

"Uma, please"

Harry begged her without defering from her.

"Just listen to me."

"You just can't help it, ¿can you?"

Uma rebuked in an accusatory.

"You just have to go for anything with a pulse, as if that kind of thing doesn't mean anything."

"I swear it wasn't what you thought"

Harry explained to him desperately.

"Audrey and I were just talking."

"Yes of couse"

Uma nodded, but kept an advantage in her voice.

"You and Audrey were talking, but ¿what if we asked about Mal and Evie before, eh?"

Harry could no longer find his eye, unable to deny what he did.

"¿And what is this that I'm hearing about Jane?"

Harry clenched his fists, forcing himself to regain eye contact. Despite the ferocity of his radiance, he kept it with determination.

"Uma, it's not what you think"

Harry repeated to him without moving from where he was still standing in front of him.

"Just shut up Harry, please."

Uma admitted with a defeated shrug of shoulders. He bit his lip and suddenly took on a softer tone.

"I honestly thought that things were different between us for a minute, and that's up to me."

"¿Different?"

Harry repeated. ¿So she also feels the same way about him?

"But the fact is that I left for a while"

Uma pointed out, and Harry caught a glimpse of what he saw before. It was definitely a pain of some kind.

"And now I see that you clearly have better things to do than hanging out with me."

Harry furrowed his forehead, confused about how Uma could even consider that as a possibility. However, before she could object, Uma raised her hands in surrender and slapped with a bitter smile.

"¿You know what? Have fun with that."

She took a quick step around her, but Harry quickly caught her arm.

"Uma"

He said his name with as much sincerity and respect as he could gather. He stopped walking, but still refused to face him. Even so, he continued with his please

"Please, let me explain it to you."

Uma reluctantly turned around, still without looking at him directly, and shrugged indifferently. Harry nodded to a stone bench in the garden. He let go of his arm in favor of taking her hand and guided her. They both sat down, Harry never let go of his hand.

There was a rhythm of silence, only stained by the low buzzing of the crickets and electric lamps around the garden. Harry finally broke the silence between them.

"I also realized that something was..."

He turned his brain around trying to find the right word.

"... changing between us, but I was too afraid to ask."

He leaned forward, trying to get her attention, but she kept her gaze fixed on the cobbled road. He settled for rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. He broke a smile.

"I'm not silly, Uma"

Harry laughed half-heartedly

"I know that Mal is going to get married, and Evie was clearly involved with that green guy."

"Then ¿why did you ask about them?"

Uma responded, keeping her voice down so as not to betray any emotion.

Harry shrugged his shoulders shyly.

"I wanted to see how you would react"

His answer was honest, but he made Uma narrow his eyes. I knew it sounded bad despite his intentions.

"I was thinking that maybe if you saw me interested in other people, your reaction could give me a clue as to how you feel about me."

Uma didn't respond immediately. She was digesting her confession slowly, trying to decide on a proper reaction. Should I be angry or... ¿halaid?

"¿And what about Jane?"

She deviated, finally looking at him.

"Actually, I just wanted to scare the party"

Harry laughed.

"We may be in Auradon now, but I'm still a little scared."

To Harry's surprise, his joke managed to make Uma laugh. It was brief, but it was something.

"But that's irrelevant right now"

Harry proceeded once his shared fun was extinguished. He gave him a gentle squeeze in the hand to emphasize his sincerity

"Right now, I'm telling you that I'm sorry for playing like this."

His eyes were thrown between his own, in search of a crack in his determination, but all he saw was the sincere will of his first companion. The corner of his mouth became entched with a small smile.

"You've been in Auradon for too long."

"You've been here longer than me"

Harry pointed out to him.

"Fry enough"

Uma laughed, and Harry enjoyed seeing her smile. She sighed deeply, something heavy in her mind.

"And I guess I also owe you an apology."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the statement, unable to think of anything he had to regret.

"To always run away instead of just talking about things with you"

He continued, shaking his head at his own ridiculous antics.

"I'm getting so…"

He crawled, wrinkling his nose and grinding his teeth as he tried to find the right word.

"…Angry when you talk to people like that."

Harry bowed his head, looking at her with a strange feeling in his gut. The wasps in his stomach were gone, but there was something else there. Something light. Something I had been feeling all week, but I hadn't recognized it until that day.

"Well, if that calms you down"

Harry offered him, releasing his hook to take his other hand and place them both on his knees, which were pressed against each other.

"I promise not to flirt with everyone I see."

Uma snorted and rolled her eyes. The promise was stupid, but I couldn't deny the pleasure it brought him to listen to her.

"That would make me feel better"

He admitted when a mischievous smile took its place on his lips. His voice took on a mocking tone.

"Although, if you don't, ¿how the hell is the great Harry Hook going to have a date again?"

Harry gave him an unbalanced smile.

"I have some ideas."

He leaned forward, much slower this time to measure his approval. She didn't move backwards, or to the side, or even forwards. She stood still and waited. Even when he approached, nothing changed. His eyebrows rose with expectation, as if he were still waiting for him to explain his "idea." Until, finally, her lips connected with hers. He ignited a shock through Harry's body, only making that light feel more prominent, as if it were flying. It wasn't like kissing a sleeping princess. She was kissing him, returning the slightest pressure. When he finally retired, looking at his beautiful face with nervous astonishment, he was happy to find his once pedregina expression that melts into one of happiness. He couldn't hide the smallest laugh as he shook his head.

"That could work"

He smiled, biting his lip. She approached him so she could rest her head on his shoulder, and Harry let go of one of his hands to wrap an arm over his shoulders. He put his chin on his head and kept her close, repeating his moment again and again in his mind with emotion and hope for his future. Over Uma's head, Harry noticed a whisper in the bushes. Uma didn't seem to hear it, but Harry narrowed his eyes on the mountain. It wasn't until he saw a mixture of blond, pink and blue hair coming out of the bush that he relaxed. Audrey gave him a thumbs up and a proud smile, and he winked in return. I was as excited to have her as a friend as I was to have Uma as his.

THE END

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

[beantothemax]

Elena had been put to bed. She'd slept most of the day. Harvey had sapped her of nearly all her energy and traveling for several days immediately afterwards only made it worse. But now she could rest.

After Osvald tucked her in, he stayed by her side a while longer. He held her hand as tears trickled down his cheeks. His little girl was alive and she was finally safe. He had to rest too though.

When Clarissa reminded him of that, he nearly shooed her away. But she gave him a stern look and he gave in. Just before he left, he pressed a kiss to Elena's forehead.

"Sleep well, princess," he whispered.

They'd spoken at length when Osvald arrived and only wished each other goodnight before he retired to the inn. Though Castti usually went to bed early, she remained in the tavern. When Osvald entered, she gestured for him to sit.

"So? How'd it go?" she asked.

"Fine. Clarissa said she's happy to-"

"Yes I knew she'd say that. Did Elena wake up?"

Osvald sighed at her uncharacteristically rude interruption but continued.

"No, she's still unconscious."

Castti smirked at his words and sipped at her tea.

"Is her health a joke to you?" Osvald asked, quiet but firm.

"No. I've been helping you with your weird little journey for nearly a year now. You've got a home to return to and I still have no clue what to do," she chuckled.

Castti downed the last of her cup, pouring another.

"No ideas at all?" Osvald asked.

"Nope," Castti smiled, "I could always join the others and slit my throat."

Osvald had learned that whenever she said 'the others', she meant Eir's apothecaries, never their current traveling companions. She loved those she traveled with but that would never compare to what she felt for Eir's apothecaries. Only Osvald came close to that.

"You know those jokes aren't funny," Osvald sighed.

"I know," Castti muttered.

She finished the last of her second cup of tea before standing.

"I'm heading to bed."

He grabbed her hand and tried to look her in the eyes but she only stared at the floor.

"Please, Castti, let's talk a bit longer," he said.

"Sure. Should we walk?" she asked.

"Sounds nice."

They walked in silence to the edge of town. The sun had dissappeared beyond the horizon hours prior.

"This is where I'd always walk," Osvald said.

He looked to Castti, awaiting her response but she said nothing. He understood. She was unwell, she didn't have to speak.

Once they reached a tree atop a small hill, they sat under it. It overlooked Conning Creek. The town glowed a warm yellow from all the candles lit by windows.

"Did you have suggestions?" Castti asked.

"No. I hoped I'd think of something but all that comes to mind is that we'd all miss you," Osvald answered.

Castti moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. He held her closer when he heard her sniffle. This wasn't the first time she cried into his arms like this and hopefully it wouldn't be the last. He would rather comfort her everyday than plan her funeral.

She needed the help. She always made sure everyone else was okay, often going the extra mile with Osvald and making sure he didn't do anything to hurt himself.

"Okay means happy and uninjured," she would say, patching up some wound Osvald got after pushing himself past his limits.

She tended to everyone's wounds with a smile, listening to their problems and offering advice, always dodging the question when asked if she was okay. As she sobbed into his arms, this was all Osvald thought of.

"Osvald," she whispered, "c-can I stay with you? Just till I figure out what to do. I'll help with Elena too."

She trailed off and her sobs had died down too and she seemed to have fallen almost completely silent.

"You can stay forever if you want. I'm sure Elena will like you," he smiled.

"You really think so?"

"Yes, it's hard not to like you."

"I see."

She stayed in his arms for a long time. She'd stopped crying and nearly fell asleep where she sat. Osvald couldn't help but fear for her. Right now, they had a solution but neither knew if it would stick. What if Elena didn't like her? Or she changed her mind and decided she couldn't bear living any longer?

...But that was an incorrect approach. Castti decided to stay, that was worth celebrating. They could take each day one at a time, staying in the present and appreciating the little things. Those always seemed to make her happy.

in absolute shambles. btw.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUH…….. WAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PIE!!! you’re actively trying to murder me through text alone because. augh

castti talking about ‘joining’ eir’s apothecaires always hurts to see. she has so so so many people who care about her and she needs to know that this instant

castti staying for elena……. wanting to keep going for, if nothing else, for her…………… if you’ll excuse me I need to go bury my head into my pillow forever

YOUR CASTTI FICS ARE ALWAYS SO SO GOOD HOW DO YOU DO THIS

[rviner]

Astra has been waiting for this moment since she met Felix, dying to get him sitting across from her so she can draw the cards, watch him discover something deeper within himself. It's not curiosity. She's always thought that there's something needing to be unraveled. Him, her. Them. And tonight feels right. She doesn't let him dodge and weave like he usually does. She moves around her bedroom with a slow, deliberate energy, spreading a small purple mat on the floor, setting the lights low, incense curling in the air. The scent, thick and sweet, mingles with the soft hum of energy she's so used to tapping into.

She catches Felix's teasing tone, and throws him a grin over her shoulder as she reaches for her deck. "You won't like this answer," she says as she pulls the small box containing the cards. "But for something to begin, something else usually has to end. The universe doesn't start or stop, it's always moving, always shifting. We're just tapping into what's already there, my lovely Felix boy." a little smile plays on her lips as she sits opposite him, a spark of eagerness in her eyes.

She slides the cards out from their delicate purple bag, the holographic sheen catching the low light as they move between her fingers. She knocks on the deck three times, grinning as Felix watches her, probably with confusion. "You gotta knock on a door, you know." she says with a wink. "Can't just go barging into the stars, demanding answers." When he asks if he's speaking too loud, Astra presses a finger to her lips, her movements slow and exaggerated, purposely ethereal. "Shhhh…" she whispers, before a giggle escapes her. "Nah, do whatever you want."

She starts shuffling, her eyes never leaving his. "I know you very well, Felix...so, this won't be a surface level reading." she murmurs, "But, if you trust me, trust the cards, not my knowing… then maybe we'll find something interesting." As she speaks, a card jumps from the deck. Astra raises her eyebrows, grinning, "Well, well. No, that's a good sign. The universe is talkative tonight." she places it face down on the mat, shuffles a little more until two more cards follow.

She turns the first one over.

"The Seeker." her voice softens as her eyes land on the lone figure under the stars. "You're looking for something, but this isn't about aimless wandering. It's about questions you didn't even know you had. About yourself. About your life. A deeper purpose." her gaze lifts to him, but something in the card's energy pulls at her. It hums under her fingers, the image growing brighter in her mind's eye, and suddenly, it's not just about Felix. She's the Seeker too, isn't she? Searching for answers in the haze of their life together, in the secrets she keeps tucked away. Her heart skips, and her fingers tremble slightly as she continues.

"The card…" she swallows, her voice quieter now, "…it's telling you to cut through the distractions. The noise. There's a question inside you, one you haven't asked yourself yet. Maybe you’re scared of it, or you've buried it deep. But to move forward, Felix, you need to confront it. Search for the real you."

Oh, you tricky stars. Astra has always known how her and Felix's energy aligns, but now she feels as if the universe is tapping her on the shoulder. Telling her that this all goes far deeper than she's been willing to listen. You've been ignoring us, the stars whisper.

She pauses, feeling the intensity of the moment. The reading is taking her somewhere unexpected, a place she wasn't prepared to go. She searches Felix's face, looking for a sign that he's following too. "Does that…resonate with you?" she asks softly, her voice a little shaky. "You don't have to tell me how, if you don't want to. You can just nod or shake your head."

astra's apartment

felix and astra @rviner

It didn't matter how many months they were together, Felix had expertly avoided Astra and her mystical star deck. He'd make any quip or joke to make her laugh and avoid some spiritual reading, convinced it'd be vague riddles to undo about himself. That, and the fact he didn't want to know anything else about himself. He hated enough, he didn't need to hate parts of himself he didn't even know existed.

But, Astra.

Astra and her smile and her fluttering lashes. Astra and her laugh. Astra and the way her voice could lower to that soft quiet tone, the way her hand could graze his. Astra and her drugs, too. Tonight, evidently, as she would say, was supposed to be the night. Felix was already laughing as he sat opposite her, crossed legged on her bedroom floor. Their bedroom floor. He watched as she lit incense, shaking it delicately so the flame blew out, the smell cascading around them. "Has it started?" he teased, a grin moving over his lips as he looked around, pretending some sort of presence might be with them. "Am I speaking too loud?" Felix added, scooting slightly closer as Astra prepared her mysterious cards. He watched as one flew out from the deck while she shuffled, a quick whip of a noise that made him chuckle. "Shit, that can't be good."

[tf2fansderogatory]

scout day

okay we know hes got rabbit theming with the domination voicelines but in my head i take it one step further

"mon lapin" (my rabbit) is a thing to call your son i think and so whenever i daydream i have one universe where scout just cries every time he hears anything rabbit related because he tried learning french and he found out what it means

in other words: hes a blorbo so i make him suffer

it turns out, to some degree, that Spy's eternal smugness is his downfall, something predicted by everyone ever. at the beginning his coworkers were greeted with usual wariness, caution, dodging questions and obscuring answers with well-placed bribes and cryptic threats and careful strategy; it only took him a few days to lower his guard just a tiny bit, and realize his coworkers were mostly obnoxious lunatics with very few coherent thoughts to any of their names, and once he knew who to be careful around he let his guard drop most of the rest of the way. it turns out, if you say something enough you begin to believe it on some deeper unconscious level, and you are an idiot isn't really an exception. It becomes a mantra. Eventually, he decides his teammates are incapable of even normal English and, therefore, absolutely would not know or be able to learn to speak French, so he lets himself be a little less careful. His constant little French phrases are sort of a compromise between secrecy and some other need he doesn't want to put a name to; in some way, it allows him to say anything he wants right to his disgusting coworker's faces without facing any repercussions whatsoever. To Spy it seems like a flawless solution.

But, well… maybe he lets it spiral a little too far. Scout gets the worst of it, and he knows it--everybody's already figured out he's probably insulting them to their faces and have accepted it as a normal fact of life, but Scout's watched him do it to other people and Spy does not do it to other people like he does it to him. It never fucking stops, for one, a constant train of syllables running in-between actual English sentences--and especially when Spy's scolding him, or complaining about his clothes or his voice or the gap in his teeth or the black eye that could've been very easily avoided if he didn't just go in swinging like a fucking idiot--or, the worst of it, when it's dark in the rec room and Scout's reading comics and Spy's in the other corner reading whatever he reads and everybody else is gone and you could cut the air with a knife, and Spy gets this weird little light in his eyes as he mutters and doesn't really hide the fact that he's watching Scout out of the corner of his eye. Drives him up the fucking wall. So he mail-orders one of those stupid little French-to-English books, starts keepin' a little journal of all the stupid shit he says, and asks Engie to help him out when he realizes he doesn't know how to spell French at all (and when the letters on the page are swimming too hard for him to keep his head straight).

Engie disappears for a few hours and when he gets back it's with a big fucking pile of books all about French, plus another big handful of notepads and recording devices. Scout says he doesn't care about it that much, but he does, and as Engie sees it if this is a way to get Spy to stop going through his goddamn things he'll take whatever path he can go. Over the next few days they collect information, spell the best they can, start organizing and translating bits and pieces of it; what they find is mostly insults, as expected, a few pleas for mercy, though Engie comes across a few lines spoken to him that he has to read back a few times to make sure Spy's actually calling him handsome.

Scout's asleep for most of it, to be completely frank. Letters were never his strong suit, but Engie's perfectly happy to truck along on his own. One night, one of the longer ones where he's mostly just there for moral support, Engie nudges him awake; he looks worried, almost, and Scout rubs his eyes as he shoves a torn-out page of a notebook into his face.

It says, highlighted among dozens of nondescript sentences, in Engie's barely legible chicken-scratch: My rabbit, you make my life so difficult. I wish you took more care of yourself. You don't deserve to live like this.

He sees it smeared all over the rest of the page, in the French Engie's still working through--mon lapin, mon lapin. My rabbit. And Engie gets another grave look, and points to a sentence near the bottom, in a considerably neater font.

He says: "This one's 'my rabbit, you look just like your mother'."

Medic runs a DNA test, for a good portion of both Engie and Scout's paychecks. Scout sees a little rabbit plushie in the window of a stupid little chachki store as they make their rounds around Teufort and Demo, who's a little too tipsy to be driving, is surprised when Scout starts sobbing, curled up on the shitty vomit-dusted leather.

Spy gets a visit, after most of everybody else has gone to bed. The broken nose he has when he shamefully stalks into the kitchen for breakfast and promptly leaves doesn't really surprise anyone, and neither does Scout's sullen silence for most of the morning into the afternoon. Spy stops going through Engie's things. French, formerly ever-present, vanishes from his general speaking patterns. There would be a celebration among the team, were it more appropriate. Everyone mostly just watches Scout stare at the rabbits running around outside, scowling, and feels bad for him.

[teklarn]

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol,  second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things. 

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all. 

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever. 

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds. 

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?” 

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?” 

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated. 

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding. 

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.” 

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.” 

“do you want to go back to the dorms?” 

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.” 

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up. 

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—” 

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance. 

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—” 

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough. 

- 

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears. 

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him? 

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue. 

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him. 

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name. 

“y/n?” 

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?” 

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?” 

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.” 

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise. 

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?” 

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.” 

- 

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it. 

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out. 

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it. 

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together. 

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side. 

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.) 

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three. 

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned. 

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.” 

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.” 

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.” 

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him. 

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away. 

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles. 

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.” 

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight. 

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume. 

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—” 

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.” 

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself. 

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked. 

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another. 

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen. 

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground. 

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.” 

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.” 

“bu—” 

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.” 

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand. 

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting. 

cement flew into the air. 

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots. 

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder. 

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest. 

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya. 

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park. 

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question. 

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement. 

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost. 

your head whipped around to see him charging for you. 

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore. 

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right? 

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain. 

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions. 

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering. 

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up. 

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling. 

“y/n! are you alright?” 

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.” 

“do you need—” 

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst. 

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg. 

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly. 

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away. 

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?” 

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.” 

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down. 

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?” 

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.” 

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.” 

“mhm,” you agreed. 

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.” 

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you. 

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?” 

“yes, thank you recovery girl.” 

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that. 

- 

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off. 

“good, you’re awake.” 

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!” 

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage. 

“what...what do you want?” 

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.” 

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.” 

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-” 

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.” 

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused. 

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone. 

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.” 

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?” 

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.” 

you gulped. 

“so what’re you saying?” 

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.” 

“say it again.” 

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours. 

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.” 

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out. 

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.” 

he grinned. “where to?”

[yoonpobs]

love language | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: FLUFF, that's it

warnings: this is just so cute and self-indulgent lol

words: 5, 123

summary: how min yoongi loves you

“You know there isn’t a point in inviting me out for brunch to only sigh and stab your overpriced meal with a fork right? I already see you enough on a daily basis and I think I’m exceeding my _____ quota for the month.” Jimin says dryly.

Usually, you’d quip back with an equally brute remark of your own but there’s something far heavier lingering at the back of your mind. A territory you weren’t quite sure how to navigate and vocalise. Jimin picks up on your silence and stamps it as odd behaviour because you were far more … hands-on when it came to your retorts but today you’re dead quiet.

Jimin leans forward on his elbows to give you a concerned look when you still silently assault your meal with the fork in your grip.

“… is this even _____?”

You look up and your expression is unimpressed. Jimin raises his arms up in defense before retreating to the comfort of his plush sofa chair—a product of allowing him to choose the venue for your dire brunch that and the cost was your empty wallet and every last bit of your mental health.

“What do you think of Yoongi?”

The question throws Jimin off not because he has no idea who that is—but because you were shy and timid. A soft-spoken person by nature that liked keeping to yourself and that was a huge juxtaposition in terms of your friendship with Jimin because he was everything you were not. He was loud, the biggest person in every room, and the person that everyone knew on campus.

Your friendship was an unlikely occurrence even for your lecturers when they’d glance at you from the hallways or when your peers would eye you oddly when they’d see Jimin partaking in every extra-curricular there was available and while you chose to do your own thing, far away from the action and where you were safely kept in your own bubble.

Jimin is surprised because you were already very private, and as your best friend, he didn’t take any offense to that when you didn’t share matters of your life with him. He already overcompensated for the fact that all he did was talk about his personal life—which you didn’t mind either. It was a healthy balance and a give and take that the two of you found a pattern with.

So for you to bring up the name of your boyfriend—which Jimin only knew because he caught a glimpse of a name with a heart and a text with the word ‘date’ attached to it—was definitely out of character.

“Yeah. This definitely isn’t _____,” Jimin says, “I’d like her back, please. I need someone to have no backbone so I can trample on her without her ever complaining.”

You glare at him even harder and stab the lettuce on your plate harder.

“You know what? Forget it …” You mutter, pushing your plate away from you.

Jimin levels you with a wry look and reaches his hand out to stop you from being overdramatic with your actions. Since you weren’t the best with words, you naturally compensated for being a little excessive with your actions in hopes for other people to be able to pick up on your hints. And as your best friend—Jimin knew that you were bottling something inside and wanted him to pry.

“You know this trick isn’t going to work on me, right?” Jimin points out, “And as much as I call myself the self-proclaimed genius between the two of us I can’t read minds so you’re going to need to elaborate on what you mean by ‘what do I think of Yoongi’.”

You scowl and fiddle with your fingers when Jimin gives you a look that tells you that you should speak up or forget about it. Sometimes you hated the fact that Jimin was confident and assured of himself, never avoiding confrontation while all you did was dodge it. Another reason why your friendship was unlikely but somewhat necessary.

“As my friend … what do you think of Yoongi—” You mumble, “—for me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your soft tone.

“For … you?” He parrots your question back.

Your ears burn and you feel stupid enough asking Jimin about his opinion on Yoongi when you already felt flustered even mentioning his name to anyone that wasn’t yourself.

“Jimin …” You whine.

“Don’t Jimin me,” He snaps, “You know my hearing is bad.”

You roll your eyes and cast your eyes downwards to your abandoned plate as you pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you’ve picked up from Yoongi. Though you can’t really say that you picked it up from him since it was also a nervous routine of yours but knowing that Yoongi shared that in a different way made it feel like you got it from him.

Jimin sighs.

He wasn’t being harsh on you—in fact, this was him encouraging you to open up because while he was all hard and edges, and possibly overbearing at times; he respected you and loved you as a friend. You were never mean, rude or disrespectful and even if the two of you were fundamentally different in nature, you co-existed peacefully and were able to share little things in common that made the interactions between the two of you fruitful.

And he knew that speaking of your relationship with Yoongi was hard not because he was treating you horribly (at least he hopes so) but because you had the tendency of solving all your problems yourself. Even ones that were far out of your range of capability, and as someone who has received an abundance of help and advice from someone as soft-spoke as you—he wanted to be able to reciprocate somehow.

“Are the two of you okay?” Jimin asks.

You nod your head.

“We are … I just—well …” You mumble, “I just want your opinion.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow because he didn’t want you to feel like he needed his approval for you to date Yoongi. He trusted you and knew that you were smart enough to let the people you felt the same way about in.

“Babe, you don’t need my opinion. You’re the one in the relationship with him and as long he’s not being manipulative, abusive or an unwarranted jackass then I have no right to interfere in your relationship.” Jimin frowns.

You sigh.

“No, no … it’s not like that,” You shake your head, “I just wanted to know what you think of him … as a person.”

Your request is odd for multiple reasons, but mostly because of the timing because it seemed like a question you’d pose before the two of you made it official but this question came eight months into the relationship.

“I don’t think I can give you an answer _____. My interactions are limited with Yoongi as it is and I can’t give you an objective answer without sounding like a complete asshole if I judge him based on the way he looks.”

“Why would you sound like an asshole?” You furrow your brows.

Jimin shoots you a deadpan.

“Min Yoongi is the poster boy of the average college girl’s wet dream and he checks all the boxes of fitting all the stereotypes of a brooding, mysterious jock with a secret that he hides only for a girl to swing into his life and change his outlook completely. He’s quiet—quieter than you—and downright intimidating. It doesn’t help that you don’t want me hanging out with him just yet—which I totally respect by the way—so that just adds to his aloof aura.”

You blink at Jimin.

The description of Yoongi based on his outward appearance is … apt. But not what you were looking for. You knew that when you first saw Yoongi at band practices was when you first decided that you were scared of good-looking people. Albeit Jimin was also insanely attractive but he had an atmosphere around him that made people feel comfortable. Not that Yoongi actively made people uncomfortable … but he radiated major celebrity vibes that it was intimidating to get close to him.

Until small talks happened to shared giggles and him eventually asking you out informally, a context outside of your band practices that you saw glimpses of Yoongi that no one else did. He was soft, understanding, and though a little bad at expressing how he feels … but he was Yoongi and you liked him.

You might even love him, but there are times where you’re hesitant about your relationship.

“I think I love him.” You squeak.

Jimin’s eyes widen, another surprise for him for the day because you’ve just ignored his very superficial description of your boyfriend, which he half-expected you to be mad at. But for you to say that you thought you were in love with him was just a reaction he was not expecting at all.

“You—okay?” Jimin scrunches his eyebrows, “I’m happy for you, I really am! But … that doesn’t explain why you need my opinion?”

You breathe out and will yourself to look at Jimin’s face, even with the burn of your cheeks.

“You’re my … best friend, Jimin.” You say softly.

Jimin’s eyes ease on your timid features before he reaches out a comforting hand to grab onto your own, nudging you to look into his eyes. Even though Jimin was outgoing as it is, the reason why you stayed friends was that he took the time to understand you and adapt to you even when he didn’t need to. He knew that you were just shy and he never berated you for it, which is why you wanted him to know how you felt—because what he thought was important too.

“_____, love,” Jimin whispers, and you offer a weak smile, “I’m happy for you. Truly. Being in love is a beautiful feeling and I don’t need to be in love with a person to tell you that because love exists everywhere. It exists in the small things that make you smile or giggle when you come across it, and it exists in the way you do the things you adore and achieve your goals. But you don’t need me—or anyone’s—validation to love Yoongi. Love is so personal and so collective at the same time but it’s yours.”

You swallow and hope that you don’t cry in the middle of this posh and overpriced place, and it’s partially because Jimin sounded so earnest when he was talking to you but also because of the ruminating thoughts that plague your mind that made you suggest this brunch in the first place.

“I think I’m in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same.” You sniffle.

Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens momentarily along with his jaw, but he doesn’t want to act irrationally just yet.

“Why do you say that?” He asks tenderly.

You sniff and the tip of your nose turns red and Jimin wants to pat you on the head to comfort you, but the two of you are in public and he knew you hated being vulnerable in general—especially in the public eye.

“It’s just—it’s just—” You stutter, “You know how shy I am and how hard it is for me to … ask for things …”

When he hears your soft tone as your eyes dart away from his face, possibly embarrassed, he rubs a soothing thumb across your knuckles and listens to you intently.

“But I really try with Yoongi … because I want him to know how much I-I like him,” You whisper, “And every time I tell him how much I like him he just … he just smiles and looks away. Like he doesn’t—doesn’t feel the same.”

Jimin absorbs your words before he smiles softly at you. He understood how difficult it must’ve been for you because this was your first official relationship with someone who looked very closed off, to begin with, but based on your very short and rapt descriptions from time to time, Jimin could say that Yoongi wasn’t a bad person.

“Have you considered that he shows his love a different way?” Jimin asks.

You look up at him confused.

“Huh?”

Jimin chuckles before offering you a small tissue, and you meekly accepted it as you dab at your waterline.

“We all have different ways of giving and receiving love, _____.” He tells you, “No person loves the same and no one feels the same type of love. We are all different because that’s in our nature. And like I said—I don’t know Yoongi well enough to say that he has a specific type of love language but if he’s stuck around for this long … it has to mean something, right?”

Your brunch with Jimin leaves you with something else to think about.

Perhaps you were a little shallow—narrow-minded if you will. But you trusted Jimin, and you decided to see what he meant. You knew that you didn’t have the stereotypical love of shows or movies because while it did depict some form of reality, it was heavily sensationalised and exaggerated. But you never considered that Yoongi had a way of his own, one that was personal and unique to him.

Yoongi never made you feel like you weren’t enough. But the lack of the words that sit on your tongue also made you feel like he didn’t feel the same. It was never what he did, but how you felt. It was irrational, but he was objectively a very attractive person. In more ways than how he looked but the way, he treated others.

He’s mellow and gentle. Words never harsh but sharp enough to make people think. He’s efficient and kind when he wants to be and you see the way he treats his friends and staff at restaurants, even if he’s a little quiet too. The two of you were somewhat similar, but you felt so much for him that you somehow overlooked that one part—that maybe he was quiet in the way he loved too.

But you didn’t want to get your hopes up because while you weren’t … horrible. You weren’t anything spectacular either. You did decently in school, had a decent friend group that mainly consisted of you, Jimin and his other best friend, Taehyung—who told you that you were as much of his best friend like you were Jimin’s—and your bandmates that you shared with Yoongi.

Yoongi was quiet but collateral. He excelled in school, topped his classes two terms in a row, and produced impeccable music on the side. He was charismatic when he had to be an extremely introspective that you sometimes felt lacking when you hear him speak about the world and people.

Maybe that’s why he just smiles and looks away because Yoongi is too kind to break your heart, and his eyes tell the truth.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t—

“______?” Yoongi calls your name and snaps you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” You respond dazedly and he just smiles at you, gentle as always before he nudges your shoulder slightly forward to place a—pillow?—in between your back and the chair that you were sitting on in his apartment.

“I’ve read somewhere that this helps with your posture.” He tells you, “You said you were having lower back pains so this may help.”

You blink at him and then at your assignments sprawled on his dining table, before turning your head to spot the pillow that you remember gifting him as a small present months back, behind your back, and in between you and the chair. The tension in your lower back does feel alleviated, and you turn back to Yoongi to offer him a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You say softly.

He smiles at you and the simple gesture makes your stomach flutter with butterflies and your heartbeat a little faster. It’s crazy that the simplest of acts could turn you into mush and that he’s had your heart captive. The word sits on your tongue but fear wins over again.

He brushes stray hands of hair that falls by the side of your face, away, before gathering it with his hand at the back of your neck and tying it with a rubber band that you remember leaving at his place a while back.

“How can you see with your hair in the way?” He scolds, but it’s light.

You scoff, giving him a glare but it’s playful too. It does feel better like you have a clearer vision of the work that you were doing.

“Don’t be mean …” You mumble.

Yoongi laughs and it’s your favourite sound after the bell of your favourite bakery.

You like this look on him, eyes crinkled and mouth open in a gummy grin that you were the cause of. The will to say the word becomes harder, the way he leans in to peck you on the lips makes your mouth move on its own accord.

So before you can justify your actions, you say—

“I love you.”

The words are out and it seems to linger in the air because of the silence. You’re mortified, one because you had just blurted it out in the most unromantic setting ever, but secondly, because Yoongi is just … looking at you again. Like he always does when you tell him how much you like him—a soft smile, but this time his eyes are trained on yours.

The fire on your cheeks feels all the hotter when you know there’s nowhere to hide, or no way to retract your words because you didn’t want to. You loved him—and his silence only solidifies your guesses on the unrequitedness of your love.

“I-I’m sorry!” You yelp, covering your face with your hands, “I-I didn’t—I know that you—I didn’t mean to say that!”

Yoongi continues to look at you and he’s inching closer to you until your locked against your chair, his arms resting around your back as his other elbow leans on the table when he brings his face closer to yours.

“You love me?” He whispers and his breath is on your lips.

Even as you’re overcome with the fact that you do indeed love him, and that he doesn’t feel the same. You can’t bring yourself to deny it, not when your heart has always been for him and your words a reflection of your own heart.

“Y-Yes,” You mumble, eyes looking away, “I’m sorry …”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows and pulls away from you. The warmth of his body suddenly gone and it reminds you that you may have overstepped. That he realised that you were in too deep and couldn’t just leave you. It scared you, but the silence scares you more.

“Why are you apologising?”

You gulp, looking away but Yoongi nudges your chin to look at him gently. His eyes are still confused, but kind. The look that usually comforts you only makes anxiety settle in the pit of your belly.

“I know you don’t feel the same … it’s okay. I understand. I’m a little … hard to love … I know. B-But it’s okay. You don’t need to say it—at all. I can … I can deal with it. Just please don’t leave me.” You whimper.

Yoongi pulls away completely as if he’s been scathed. You don’t have anything else to say but you’re appalled to find your vision getting blurry and the lump in your throat getting unbearable. But you try not to cry, especially when Yoongi looks torn.

But he doesn’t do what you’re expecting and tells you that it’s over, but instead, he returns into your space, making you forget about your embarrassment and cups your cheeks ever so gently while looking at you with ardent eyes.

“Please don’t cry …” He whispers.

And you hate that you do. You cry because he’s holding you so gently and his hands feel warm against your cheek. You cry because you love him and he doesn’t feel the same. You cry because all your cards are out on the table and he’s seen it all.

“I-I’m sorry.” You choke.

Yoongi’s eyes soften before he leans in, pressing a gentle press onto your lips that has your tears in the way as a barrier. You’re still choking on your sobs but his kiss feels comforting and painful at the same time. You want to push him away but you’re selfish—you love him and the feeling of him holding you close like he may feel the same.

When he pulls away, he looks at you again with a gentle, yet intense gaze.

“You’re not hard to love,” He murmurs, “It was so easy falling in love with you because you’re my person. You’re the person that I look forward to seeing every day and the person that I think about the most. Please don’t ever say that you’re hard to love because falling in love with you was the easiest thing that I’ve done in my entire life.”

Your eyes widen, especially when he looks you directly in your own. Your eyes are a little puffy and you’re sure it’s an unattractive sight.

But Yoongi thinks you’re beautiful. He always does. He thinks you’re beautiful when you see him after your classes. He thinks you’re beautiful when you broke the plate you wanted to give his mother as a gift. He thinks you’re beautiful when you’ve just woken up and he thinks you’re beautiful when you’re laughing with his friends and your bandmates.

“I—I—you … you love … me?” You rasp.

Yoongi still has a soft hold on your cheeks, and he feels the wetness of your tears stain his hands but he’s unbothered. He’s more bothered about what you said. The way his heart clenches makes him feel like he’s not done enough. That he could do better to never be the reason for the sadness along with your tears.

“I love you. I do. So much.” He whispers, “You’ve made me feel the kind love that I never thought existed.”

You sob harder and you feel a little pathetic crying in his arms because … how could you have doubted him? You feel relieved and happy, and a little frustrated because you were insecure on your own terms. Even now that you know he loves you—you’re sceptical because he’s Yoongi and you’re you.

Yoongi tugs you into his arms and caresses you with the warmth of his hold, hand patting your head gently. He feels mellow and close while he allows you to cry a little longer. The silence isn’t suffocating anymore, but your mind runs wild with insecurities that you can’t help but—

“Do you really love me?” You ask softly.

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, but you feel him nod and hum against your head.

“I do.”

You nibble on your lips and clutch his t-shirt.

“Then w-why … why do you just smile and look away when I tell you how much I like you?”

Yoongi stays silent for a while, but you don’t take it as a bad sign. Even with your small arguments with him from time-to-time throughout the eight months you’ve been together, Yoongi has never once raised his voice at you or acted irrationally. In fact, he’s always stayed a little quiet for a while, as if he was thinking of the appropriate way to handle the situation before he spoke.

It only made you love him more.

“I’m sorry.” He apologises, and you feel like shit when you realise you made him apologise to you for no reason but he continues before you can pull away—grip tight around your relaxed figure.

“I’ve been in love with you for months,” His confession makes you gasp, the time that he’s mentioned only makes you a lot more confused, “I … this is the first time I’ve felt this way.”

You stay silent as Yoongi rubs gentle figures on your back, breathing into your hair as you rest your cheek on his chest.

“I’ve always been a little … quiet.” He tells you, “And maybe that’s why I felt so drawn to you because we were so similar. I saw you and thought that you were a beautiful person. That your kindness wasn’t empty promises but actions and your smiles weren’t forced but comforting.”

You feel your eyes water again because of Yoongi’s truthful words. Damn your boyfriend for being able to wax poetic.

“I’ve always found it hard to express things with words, despite writing songs like people eat their meals. My mom always told me that I was a doer rather than a sayer.” He jokes, and you find yourself giggling a little when you think of Yoongi’s mother.

A strong woman, her tongue was as sharp as her sons and you definitely see where he gets his wisdom from. She was louder spoken, confident—and yet she was gentle and kind. A person that drew people in.

“I do things for you because I love you, ______. I love you in a way that can last forever because I want it to. I want to love you in a way that you’ll remember and always think of me when you see the physical pieces left by the footprints of my affection.”

It should’ve been cheesy but Yoongi has a way with words to make you blush and your heart flutter.

His words register in you, and you feel blind to not have seen it the entire time.

Even before this, when he placed the pillow behind you to support your lower back—or when he tied your hair back so you could focus better. Or the time when he drove all the way from his hometown back to campus because you were performing a solo piece for band, then drove back to see his parents.

You remember the song he wrote to you for your birthday, accompanied by a book that you’ve put on your Wishlist for months. The memory of his gentle hands removing the face mask from your face when you’ve fallen asleep and tucking you into his bed pricks your mind.

Looking back—you remember feeling absolutely loved and adored. Even if you didn’t explicitly think of the word ‘love’—but you felt safe, comforted and accepted. And you realise that love isn’t one-dimensional. Love is everything that makes you feel complete.

When you look up at him, he’s still offering you the same gentle smile he does when you told him how much you liked him—to when you said you loved him. He still looks the same, smiles the same, and feels the same. It’s you.

“I’m sorry.” You wail.

His eyes widen but you don’t cry. You feel dumb, blind almost because he’s been nothing but loving towards you but it was you who had your doubts.

“Baby, please don’t apologise.” He runs a thumb across your cheek.

“I just—I can’t believe I accused you of not loving me when all you’ve been doing is—when all you’ve done is treat me amazingly. I feel so … stupid.” You groan.

Yoongi smiles at you and rubs his thumb in between your furrowed brows.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you frown all the time.” He tuts.

You glare at him through puffy eyes but hold on to him tighter.

“I really am sorry.” You mumble.

Yoongi hums.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve been more—explicit.”

You frown, pulling away.

“No Yoongi.” You say, “You loved me in your own way and I felt every bit of it. I just conflated the need of being reassured with words and being reassured in your gestures. I shouldn’t have doubted you and projected my insecurities onto you.”

"And it's not your fault for feeling insecure. I'm your boyfriend and I want to be able to reassure you in every way I possibly can. If you need to hear an I love you I'll shout it on top of the highest roof I can find—if you want to be held then I'll hold you and never let go."

Your heart flutters and you bask in his gentle words.

Yoongi wraps a gentle hand around the nape of your neck before bringing you closer, lips hovering right above your own before he closes the distance. His lips are warm and soft, and he doesn’t rush the kiss as if he was dealing with porcelain glass. But he knew you weren’t fragile and easily broken—but he still knew that you were someone that he wanted to care for, for a long time.

He kisses you and it feels right. It feels like you were returning home after months away.

When he pulls away ever so slightly to look into your eyes, breath still fanning on your lips—you feel welcomed.

“When I think of love I think of you. When I think of happiness your face appears in my mind. And when I think fo you, I think of what I can do to make the environment we have a little better for you. I love you, _____. And I’ll spend as long as I can reminding you.”

“Yoongi …” You blush because you didn’t know how romantic he could be when he wanted to.

“I’m serious, _____.” He looks at you seriously, “You know what my mom said when I brought you over?”

You raise an eyebrow because while you remember the meeting being absolutely pleasant, even if you did fumble and break the gift you brought. His mother only smiled at you, the same one that marks her son's face—and said that it was okay. It only meant that you should come again to compensate. Her tone was light and comfortable, and you immediately felt the tension be alleviated from your shoulders.

He takes the tilt of your head as his cue to continue.

“She said that she’s never seen me as expressive as I was when I was with you,” You snort at his exasperation, but you see the honesty that pours out, “Hyung even said that I’ve gotten soft.”

You roll your eyes when he tugs you closer by your chair until your legs were dangling by the side of his hips. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and Yoongi still smiles at you like it’s the most natural thing to do.

“But I like you soft …” You smile.

“And I love you with me.” Yoongi returns.

You blush, and you allow him to hold you close.

And in his arms, do you realise that some things didn’t need to be said.

[falcqns]

he's gone for good.

pairing: sub!Bucky x Reader

summary: Bucky informs you about Steve leaving.

warnings: angst, sub!Bucky, crying Bucky, mentions of violence.

a/n: hope you enjoy!

when you opened the door, and was greeted with a crying Bucky, you had no idea what to do.

you may had known Bucky for many years, but he was never open emotionally with you. in front of you, at least.

you two had met when you were studying abroad in Bucharest, and ended up moving in right beside him. you knew who he was right away, and you also knew that he was most likely on the run from HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., so you never revealed that you knew who he was.

a week into living there, you found out he had nightmares, but it wasn't until a month later that you found the perfect cure for them, home cooked food.

you were up late doing some research for a paper, when you heard the beginnings of a nightmare. you usually heard the terror and scream filled ends, not the beginnings, but you listened anyways.

he was calling out for someone. it took you a few seconds to decode what and who he was calling out for, but when you realized, your heart broke for him. he was calling out for his mom. his calls became louder and more desperate, before coming to a head with a shout, then sobs of heartbreak. it made you think of your mom, hundreds of miles away. it wasn't until you remembered that he was born in 1917, so his mom was definitely dead, that you moved from your bed.

you ran into the kitchen and pulled out all the ingredients for some chocolate chip cookies. eating homemade cookies always soothed all your pain when you were little, and you didn't want to think about the kind of food HYDRA fed him on a daily basis, if they fed him at all. you also knew he most likely wasn't eating properly here, as you’d see him come back everyday with plums, along with some type of street food that he found.

didn't matter what the street food was, he always had plums accompanying it. a quick google search told you that plums helped improve memory, so that was that question answered. an hour later, and the cookies were done, and loaded into a spare Tupperware that you had lying around, with a note on top letting hi know that if he ever needed to talk, you were there.

you placed it outside his door, knocked, and retreated to your unit just in time. thanks to an abandoned body mirror that sat opposite the wall that separated the two units, you got to see the smile that spread on his face when he saw the cookies and read the letter.

after that day, it became tradition.

every time he would have a nightmare, you would give him some type of food. whether it was chicken parm, French onion soup, cookies, cake, donuts, or even chicken nuggets and fries that you Uber Eat’d from McDonalds, you always made sure he was comforted.

it wasn't until a month before you were due to move back to your home country that you saw him face to face for the first time. you were bringing him some white chocolate macadamia nut cookies when he opened the door. he had a coat, hat, and leather gloves on, indicating he was going out.

he smiled and blushed, before speaking. “so you're the lovely lady that cooks for me,” he said, and you laughed before handing him the container with cookies.

“yes I am. I just made some more, actually.” you said with a smile as he took the box from you, and looked inside.

“well, thank you doll. these look absolutely delicious, I can't wait to try them.” he said with a smile and you felt your cheeks heat up.

he placed the box down on the table next to the door, and turned back to you.

“well, I'll let you get on with your day,” you said, as you turned to head back to your unit.

“actually,” he said, and you turned to face him. “I was just going to go on a walk since it was my day off today. do you maybe want to come with me?” he asked, and you felt butterflies form in your stomach as you nodded.

“sure! just let me grab my coat.” you said.

then, just like the cooking, the afternoon walk became tradition. you two would walk and talk about anything. whether it be work, school, or building drama, you always had something to talk about.

on a certain walk through a quiet little park, he confessed who he was, and was surprised when all you said was “I know.” he’d asked if you were afraid, and you said no. he’d asked if you were planning on turning him in, and you also said no.

you’d explained that it was obvious that HYDRA had control of him, and that everyone deserved a second chance. after your little speech, he’d kissed you, and asked you out on a date. you'd accepted, and started dating after your first date.

then, he was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D.. the two of you had been at the market together when he saw a newspaper saying that he had killed King T’Chaka with a bomb at the UN. he swore, and dragged you home. the two of you blew past your unit, and headed into his where you were faced with Steve Rogers. this didn't surprise you, he'd told you what he could remember about Steve, and you were expecting him to show up eventually, you just weren't expecting it to be so soon.

you could hear someone else, Sam, over Steve’s comm, and realized that there were police here, to capture Bucky. upon hearing this, Bucky shoved you out of the apartment, and down the hallway, with Steve following. he’d led you to a back entrance that you didn't even know was there, and told you tp leave the building until everything was over.

he gave you one last hug and kiss, and your first ‘I love you’, and he was gone.

you hadn't heard from him for 2 years, when you got a letter from him. according to the letter he had been seeking refuge in Wakanda, and had been freed of the Winter Soldier. he invited you to come and visit, and you did. you got to watch him tend to his goats (which he named after every avenger, even Tony) and interact with the Wakandan people, and the children. who knew a former brainwashed HYDRA assassin could be so sweet with young children? definitely not you.

then, just as you were preparing to leave and look for a farm where Bucky could continue to raise his goats and be with you, King T’Challa came to Bucky and gifted him a new arm, and informed him of a new fight. Bucky had begged you to leave, but you wouldn't have it. you had been working out and training since the day that you watched him and Steve fight against the police in Bucharest, wanting nothing more than to run in there and protect him.

so, you fought. it felt surreal to you to be fighting with the Avengers beside you, although there was no place you’d rather be. in that moment, as you were racing towards those “space dogs”, as Rocket had called them at one point, you didn't care if you lived or died, won or lost. you only cared about fighting beside the love of your life.

watching that same love of your life fade away to dust in a beautiful Wakandan forest broke you in two. you had just gotten him back, and you’d lost him again. you were trapped in your own head for days, wishing to dust away like him, just to be with him.

before you knew it, 5 years had passed, and you had joined the remaining Avengers. how you went from studying abroad in Bucharest, to being an Avenger, you had no idea, but you were grateful nonetheless. when Steve, Natasha, and Scott approached you with the possibility that you would be able to get Bucky back, you instantly accepted.

you joined Tony, Steve and Scott, and helped Steve in the fight against himself. when Tony failed to get the Tesseract the first time, you joined them on their journey into 1970, and was blown away. it wasn't exactly the time that Bucky and Steve were from, but it kind of felt like it in a way, and you instantly felt closer to Bucky, although Steve had to stop you from going to find Bucky, who was coincidentally only a few kilometres away at that point in time.

you fought with Steve and the rest of the Avengers against Thanos, and almost fainted from happiness when you saw your Bucky walk through the portal and run into your arms. you, once again, fought with the Avengers and Bucky to defeat Thanos once and for all.

then, Tony snapped his fingers, and your whole world changed. you didn't know it at that particular moment, but it did.

you attended Tony's funeral, and you and Bucky went home. a few days later, Bucky and Sam went to see Steve off to return the stones. you had no idea why, according to Bruce it would take about 5 seconds, but Bucky insisted that he needed to go, and said that he was sorry he couldn't join you on an afternoon walk, your first one with him in over seven years.

but, then he showed up at the door, tears streaming from his steel blue eyes, his cheeks puffy, and the smallest of sobs escaping from his rosy lips, and you knew something went wrong.

you pulled him into your apartment, and wrapped your arms around him. he nuzzled his face into your neck, and sobbed freely.

“what happened?” you asked. “did something happen to Steve?” at the mention of his best friend, Bucky sobbed harder, and your question was answered, albeit silently.

you pulled him into the bedroom, and stripped him from his clothes. you’d never dealt with a sobbing and heartbroken Bucky in person before, so you just went with what felt right.

you instructed him softly to go lay on the bed, and he nodded. you laid down on your side, and pulled him to lay on your chest. as your hands ran through his hair that was starting to curl slightly, you tried again.

“can you tell me what happened, honey?”

Bucky sniffled a few times and sat up. you did the same, and he fiddled with his metal fingers while he talked.

“y’know yesterday when Steve and I went out for lunch?” he asked, and you nodded. “well, he told me about your journey back to the 1970′s with him.”

you furrowed your brow in confusion, but nodded. “I-i guess he was dodging some workers or something because he hid in an office, an office that happened to belong to Peggy Carter. he said that he saw her through the glass, and that he realized that he could have the life with her that he’d always wanted, the Pym Particles safe in his pocket. he knew that he had to come back and bring everyone back, but then he was going to go back.” you didn't know what to think. that wasn't the Steve that you knew, the Steve that you had become family with over those horrible and painful five years.

“when he told me, I didn't really think he was going to do it.” Bucky said, his voice shaking. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he rested his head against your chest.

“even when I watched him disappear on the tunnel platform I didn't believe it. then, he showed up again.” he said, almost whispering.

“he was old. like grey hair, wrinkles, all of it.” he managed to get out in between sobs that were growing louder. “t-thats when it hit me. that he left me, for he-” he tried to say, before his sobs started full force again, and you pulled him to lay on you. he had his head on your chest, and his body in between your legs.

his cries continued, and you knew there was no stopping them. he was heartbroken, and he had to work through his feelings, not ignore them.

he swallowed, and continued to explain. “he left me for the girl he kissed once. which is great, he deserves to be happy, but I need him. I'm finally completely free, and I don't have my childhood best friend anymore.” he sobbed out, and you started to rock your body slowly to soothe him.

you wanted to cry too. cry about the friend that you’d never get to see again, but you couldn't, not yet. Bucky was hurting way more than you were, and you could push your pain down until Bucky was okay. you cuddled him closer to you, and spoke into his hair.

“its okay, baby boy.” you said, and he nuzzled deeper into you, the stress and sadness melting away from his body. it would return later, but it was gone for the time being. he sighed in contentedness, and his tears slowly stopped. you kissed his forehead, and felt him smile.

you ran your hands through his locks for the millionth time, and hummed a slow tune to him to soothe him further. you felt his breathing even out, ad light snores escape his mouth, and you smiled.

at least for a while, he was at peace, a peace he hadn't had in a while.

[estrel]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

[heliads]

Never Trust Your Friends

Y/N might have feelings for Newt, the newly arrived blond runner. Newt might have feelings for Y/N, the second in command who’s been in the Glade longer than anyone except Alby. When Minho and Alby assign them both to work together on a project, they’re sure it won’t end well.

masterlist

If he were smart, Newt would not be staring. He would be focused on his friends, on the bubble of chatter surrounding him. He would most certainly not be staring at the girl and boy across the Glade who stand together, speaking in hushed tones. They’re leaning against a wall of the Homestead, exchanging words as their eyes cut across the Glade, lingering on different people. Alby gestures towards the scraggly woods of the Deadheads and says something, Y/N nods and counters his point. But Newt doesn’t know any of this, because he is decidedly not looking at them. Not at all.

There’s a laugh from behind him, and Newt belatedly turns to see Minho striding up next to him. “If you spend any more time focusing at Y/N instead of your food, Frypan’s going to burst into tears.” Newt glares at his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Minho just grins. “I’m sure you don’t. Are you obsessed with Alby instead? Is that why you keep looking over at them?” Newt shoves Minho, but the dark-haired boy just laughs harder.

Maybe Newt’s not exactly being subtle. Yet even after Minho walks away, still chuckling quietly to himself, Newt’s gaze flickers back to Y/N and Alby. Their heads are bowed in conversation as they talk over every aspect of life in the Glade. Alby’s first in command and Y/N is second, and between the two of them, they’ve managed to make life here in the Maze make sense. At least, as well as you can when you’re a group of teenagers living in a giant bugging labyrinth.

Alby was the first one to show up in the Glade. Newt can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the Box, utterly alone except for the shrieks of the Grievers at night. Y/N came up next, and the two of them had to figure out how to survive with no one else around. They don’t trust anyone as well as they trust each other, although that’s no surprise. They had each other’s backs when nothing made sense, and their friendship has only grown as more and more people arrived at the Glade.

Some days, Newt wonders if he could have been able to do the same- show up in the Glade with only one other person and not lose his bloody mind. No matter how hard it was, how many times they came close to giving in, Y/N and Alby still managed to set up the Glade and all of its rules, which have lasted the months until now. Newt came up a couple months after them, and he’s been able to watch as Y/N and Alby shape the very lifestyle of the Glade.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Newt that Y/N and Alby were the first ones sent up through the Box. He doubts anyone else could have managed the daunting task of running the Glade and keeping everyone in line. Newt can still see them now, where they always meet at the end of the day to run through everything that happened and make mental checklists of what needs to be accomplished tomorrow. Newt is lucky he’s a runner- all he has to do is keep moving. Y/N and Alby have to consider the wellbeing of every single one of these poor shanks, and Newt just wears holes in his trainers alongside Minho.

Newt stands up, stretching. He hands his empty plate to Frypan, heading back towards the Map Room to make sure the day’s run has been properly catalogued. Just before he disappears into the only half-completed wooden hut, Newt glances over his shoulder one last time. A slight smile appears on his face when he sees Y/N. Of all the Gladers, she might just be his favorite.

You’re considering a tomato plant in front of you when you first see them. Today, you’ve been directed to work with the track-hoes: some slinthead was fool enough to mess with the builders and now he’s spending the day under the watchful gaze of the Med-jacks. There are barely enough track-hoes as it is, so you’ll be filling in the spot until the guy heals sufficiently to garden once more. That’s the role of a second-in-command, you suppose, doing whatever needs to be done.

The tomato plant in question is finally ripe. You’ve been eyeing it for a couple of days now, and you think it looks good. You reach for a makeshift basket, propping it up on your hip while you pluck the crimson red vegetables (or is it fruits?) from the stem. A sudden movement beyond the rows of plants distracts you, and you look up to see the figures of two boys running through the Glade, having just left the towering walls of the Maze behind them. Newt and Minho, done with their day’s work as Runners.

They spot you and smile, and you raise a hand in greeting. You do your best to look casual, effortlessly cool, but you’re not sure that you’ve succeeded. Your eyes linger on Newt for maybe a second longer than they should, and you watch as the boys head towards the Map Room while their path is still locked in their memory. You thought no one else was around to witness the blush creeping onto your cheeks, but if there’s one thing you should have learned throughout all of your months in the Glade, it’s that nothing will ever go your way. Ever.

Alby leans a hand against the tomato plant in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. You do your best to quell your flinch of surprise, but it’s no good. He’s already grinning with barely suppressed laughter. “I thought you were supposed to be staring at the tomatoes, not the Runners.” You hit him with your gardening glove, but it does nothing to staunch the gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to greet my friends? Should I turn my back and ignore them instead?”

Alby crosses his arms on his chest. “I didn’t realize greeting your friends involved watching the blond one from the second he entered the Glade.” You look around frantically, making sure Zart and the others can’t hear you, before reaching to swat Alby once more, although this time he’s expecting it and dodges out of the way. He frowns at you. “Hey, rule number two. Never hurt another Glader. I thought you were the one who came up with that.”

You shoot him a look. “I wrote that rule before you started making fun of me. If you’re not careful I’ll revoke it.” Alby shakes his head. “Afraid not. I outrank you.” You mutter something under your breath. “Not if I get rid of you first. I’d have to replace you.” Alby just grins. “If you kill me, you’ll have to explain a homicide to Newt. How would he like you then?” You can only hope that Newt is still in the Map Room, because otherwise the blond boy would see you chasing a laughing Alby out of the gardens with an outraged shout.

It’s a new month, a new day. Newt hears the loud alarm of the Box before he sees it show up, and he and a few others make their way to the center of the Glade to see what new Greenie has been brought before them. He and Minho had managed to get through their section early, so they get to witness the arrival of the latest Greenbean along with the others. About ten minutes later, there’s a shuddering jolt as the Box locks into position.

Newt helps the others fling the doors to the Box open, and just like clockwork, a boy lies on the ground, flung back by the force of the Box coming to a stop. He squints up at the Gladers lining the edge of the Box, blinded by the sunlight. Gally jumps into the Box, offering a hand and the usual declaration- “Day one, Greenie. Rise and shine.”

The Greenie looks as confused as anyone else. He’s tall, with dirty blond hair and a faded off-white t-shirt. The guy’s apparently got the chops to be a runner, as he takes off in a sprint the second his feet touch the ground of the Glade. He doesn’t go far, though, too stunned by the looming walls of the Maze to leave the grassy clearing. Later, Newt hears him shout out his name in a stunned gasp- Ben, Newt thinks he said.

Some Glader arrives to take the Greenie on a tour, so Newt turns his attention back to the Box and the crates awaiting attention within. Newt sees Minho head over to Alby, and the Runner says a few words in a low whisper. Identical, crafty grins spread over both of the boys’ faces, and a sudden feeling of dread rolls over in Newt’s stomach as the boys glance over at him. Alby steps forward. “Okay, you know the drill. Time to check the contents of the Box. This time, the lucky shanks will be, uh, Y/N and Newt.”

Newt stares at Minho in barely suppressed outrage, while his friend does his best to contain a laugh. Newt can practically read the boy’s mind- You won’t talk to her yourself, I’ll do it for you. After a second’s hesitation, Newt strides over, jumping down into the Box and landing with a mild impact on the metal floor. Y/N leaps down a few moments after him, and Newt can hear the sound of the other Gladers returning to their usual jobs above them. Within seconds, it’s just Newt and Y/N in the Box. What is he supposed to do now?

The only thing he can do is what Alby asked him to do- unload the crates of supplies. Y/N pulls a worn pad of paper from her pocket, flipping to a fresh sheet and beginning to jot down the contents. Newt helps to pry open some boxes, checking what’s inside and reporting back. After the fifth box or so, Y/N groans, leaning against the cool metal walls of the Box as a reprieve from the boredom of the tasks. “Shuck, I hate Greenie Day.”

Newt smiles in spite of himself. “Because of the Box or because of the greenie?” Y/N glances over at him. “Both. Too many boxes, and now some new guy’s going to follow me around all day asking questions.” Newt leans over a nearby crate, trying and failing to drum up the energy to continue cataloging the supplies. “Hey, you made Alby go take the tour with the Greenie. That puts the majority of the questions on him.”

Y/N smirks at that. “It’s what he deserves for making me do manual labor.” Newt frowns. “You work with the track-hoes all the time.” Y/N flashes him a grin that makes Newt’s heart freeze in his chest. “That’s different.” Newt returns her grin. “Is it, or are you just complaining?” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, but she stands up and continues on to the next crate. “I’m ignoring that.” When she hands him another box, their hands touch briefly, and Newt’s distracted from all thoughts of greenies and track-hoes or anything in this bloody Maze. Maybe Minho isn’t so bad after all for sending him down here.

You’re going to kill Alby. There’s no question about it. You’re going to kill him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop you. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sent you down here, and that triumphant smirk on his face when he announced you’d be working with Newt was just the icing on the cake. Of course he’d send you down to the enclosed box with the boy you’ve been crushing on since he arrived here- Alby’s out for blood. Why would he pass up such a golden, perfect, absolutely ruthless opportunity?

It’s all you can do to focus on the crates. You’re gripping the pad of paper like it’s a lifesaver, and honestly, it just might be. Every moment that you spend meticulously copying down the supplies is a moment that you don’t spend looking over at Newt, and the way his golden hair flops down just slightly over his eyes, or the way his arms move when he’s lifting the boxes, or that slight curve of a smile when he looks over at you-

Yes, there’s no question about it- you’re absolutely smitten. If you weren’t sure before, you’re positive now. You do your best to focus on the work at hand instead of the unfairly attractive boy next to you, but it only does so much. That being said, there are enough crates to last far longer than you’d want. The light of late afternoon is shifting into dusk, and by the time Newt is tossing the final crate out onto the grass of the Glade, it’s dark enough that the walls of the Box seem to melt away into the dimly lit air.

Newt stretches his arms. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.” You can’t help a joke. “I can’t wait for next month.” He frowns. “You’re the second in command, aren’t you? Just write us out of this job in particular.” You roll your eyes. “Even second in commands have to follow the rules, even if I’d rather break them.” Newt grins, leaning casually against the wall. “I’ve seen the amount of stuff you and Alby have to handle. I think it would be alright if you skipped out on Box duty every now and then.”

You consider him for a second. “I like the way you think. Honestly, I think you would make a good second in command. If you ever get tired of being a Runner, the position is always open.” Newt shakes his head. “What about you? I can’t take your job away.” You shrug. “I’d step aside for you. You’re the only one in this entire Glade that I think could handle it.”

Newt straightens up, stepping away from the wall to move closer to you. “You mean it?” You stare at him, at the few inches separating him from you. “Yes. I trust you.” Newt nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, as if on an impulse, he leans forward and kisses you. You barely have a moment to realize it’s happening before he breaks away, something like regret beginning to color his eyes. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry-”

You cut off his whispers by kissing him again. This time, he doesn’t lean away, not for a while. The two of you stay there, arms wrapped around each other as the darkness falls fully against you, until the lights of the bonfire begin to blaze through the night. Newt smiles down at you, eyes shining with the starlight. “We should probably go before Minho and Alby come to see why we’re taking so long.” You laugh at that. “I’d hate to give them the satisfaction of being right.” Newt shares your laugh, then bends down to kiss you one last time before jumping out of the Box. You watch him as he stands there, silhouette barely visible against the dark, and when he extends a hand down to help you up, you take it without a second’s hesitation.

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Game Over

Based On: “When You Sleep” by Mary Lambert

Summary: Frat!Harry only wants you when he’s drunk, and you’ve finally had enough

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

Here I was for the third time this week pulling up to a frat party in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be here, but, just like all the other times he had too much to drink, he needed me. Usually it takes a great amount of pushing past drunk underaged college kids to find him at these things. But this time, as soon as I reached the yard of the house, dimly lit by an array of neon party lights, I spotted a mop of curly brown hair, hunched over a bush.

“Yo! Harry dude! I thought we agreed no more puking in our bushes?!” Some frat guy was yelling at him from the porch. Harry’s only response was to flip the guy off and grin while using the bush to hold him up. “Finally! Your baby sitter’s here” The guy half-joked noticing my arrival.

Harry turned around to face me a little too fast, and he stumbled forward nearly falling. I tried my best to support him but there was no chance. I by no means would consider myself “small” or “petite”, but compared to Harry’s 6-foot, broad shouldered stature, he was too large.

“Hey! What’re ya doing hur?” Harry drunkenly slurred semi-regaining his balance.

“Haz, you called me, remember?” Normally I would’ve been embarrassed calling him anything but his name. But I’ve done this enough times to know, in the morning, he won’t remember any of the words exchanged tonight.

It took nearly an hour to get Harry back to my dorm room. Our new personal best. It’s not that I live far from the frat house, it’s more the process of getting Harry here. The trip usually goes something like, helping Harry stumble to the car, pulling over at every traffic light so Harry can throw up, finally making it to his apartment (which is past my own apartment), Harry begging me to help him to his front door, Harry realizing he “forgot” his keys, Harry asking if he can just crash at my place instead, me driving Harry back to my apartment, helping Harry stumble into my dorm.

It took about the third time of this routine being repeated for me to realize the coincidence of Harry forgetting his keys every time he went out, got shit faced, and called me to come pick him up, wasn’t so much a coincidence. And even though it was the same thing every time, I never skipped the step of driving to his apartment, because I knew it meant he’d have to verbally ask me if he could stay with me. And in some sick way, I got off to hearing his lips form those words. It was something so small, but something that meant so much to me. And he knew that. Drunk or not. I knew what the morning would bring, but for the night, I’d listen to Harry’s slow, peaceful breathing as he slept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Harry attempting to tip-toe around, collecting his things before I’d wake up. And just like every other morning, I lay perfectly still, letting silent tears hit the pillow, while I listen to the boy I love try to pretend he was never here.

LATER ON CAMPUS

“Hey (Y/N), what did I miss in class today?” I swiveled around in the library chair to face the person who was speaking to me.

Before even facing him, I recognized the voice as a kid from my Biology class, who also happened to be from my hometown. We weren’t necessarily friends, but we engaged in small talk every once in a while. Although I knew who it was before I turned around, I didn’t expect Harry to be standing there with him.

“Oh, uh, not too much.” I focused as hard as I could on my classmate to keep from looking over at Harry. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I can send them to you if you want.”

“Sick! Can you email them to me right now, so I can print them right quick?” I wanted badly to make up some excuse for why I just had to leave and send the notes later, so I could get far far away from Harry. But when I opened my mouth, “Sure” is all that came out.

The guy sat at the computer across from me, and Harry sat down next to him. I fixed my eyes on the computer screen and tried to steady my shaky hands enough to hurriedly send the notes. All the while Harry continued to stare.

As soon as the notes were sent, I logged off the computer and packed up my things. In order to get out of the library I had to pass Harry and the guy, and it was just my luck that the guy had gotten up to go print. As I passed Harry, he grabbed my wrist stopping me. I finally looked into his green eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare like he had already been doing.

“What?” I asked getting uncomfortable with the intensity he was looking at me with. He just shrugged in response.

Once Harry noticed his friend walking back to the computer, he quickly released my wrist, and turned around, as if nothing had ever happened.

Things have been this way with Harry since I met him. Since the day I became his. He knew I had a crush on him, and it gave him some sort of ego trip. Even though he knew I already wanted him, he wanted to make sure it would stay that way. So, whenever he felt like I wasn’t paying him enough attention, or he thought my yearning for him was slipping away, he’d throw me a bone to keep me begging. Initially I made the mistake of thinking this meant that by some chance, he wanted me the same way, but he proved time and time again (through his actions and his words), this wasn’t the case.

And after months of taking whatever treatment Harry would give me. I finally snapped. It happened one night at a party. I was drinking, and I didn’t know he’d be there. I spent the night avoiding him. I was afraid of what drunk me may say or do once I got around him. When he entered a room, suddenly I had somewhere else to be. When he needed another drink from the kitchen, suddenly I wasn’t thirsty anymore. When he wanted to join on the beer pong table, suddenly I was bored of the game. And Harry noticed.

I was on the second floor of the house on my own, exhausted from dodging Harry all night. I leaned my back against the wall of the hall after the stairs reminded me just how buzzed I really was. I guess Harry spotted me heading up stairs because I heard footsteps on the stairs, before he appeared at the top of them. Without saying anything, Harry glanced over his shoulder, before walking and standing directly in front of me. He put an arm up on either side of my head, trapping me between him and the wall.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” he said too casually for our position. “Are you mad at me or something?” This took me by surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.” Again, his tone was way too casual for the things he was saying. But honestly, that’s always how Harry played it.

“You mean living my life? Enjoying the party? Not worshiping the ground you walk on?” Harry’s only response was a smirk. That’s when I started getting angry. “Look I’m too drunk to even be having this conversation with you right now Haz, so can we ju-“

“What’d you just call me?” Harry questioned raising an eyebrow at me. I froze. I was so drunk and emotional that I had accidentally let it slip. But upon processing the look on Harry’s face as something almost resembling distain, my embarrassment turned to pure anger.

“What do you want from me Harry?!” anger was thick in my voice as I pushed him backwards further from me.

“What are you talki-“

“No. Don’t you dare do that! Don’t act like you’re clueless. Like-like you haven’t been playing games with me since we met!” He said nothing. Instead he just stood staring at me. An emotionless expression painted across that beautiful face.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted the fire burning inside of me to push me to finally walking away from this toxic man. But seeing that there was truly nothing there, the anger fizzled out to simple exhaustion.

“Look, we both know you know how I feel about you. And we both know you don’t feel the same way. But you play with my head. You flirt with me just long enough to wrap me around your finger. And then silence. Just like I never existed. That is until your hold on me starts unraveling again. It’s just some big twisted game for you. It’s like when you can’t have my attention, you suddenly want it.”

“It’s no-“

“I’m not done. For once in the history of whatever the fuck this thing with us is, it’s my turn to talk, and your turn to just listen. And I want you to listen good, because this is the only time I’m ever going to say.” I waited for some sign from Harry to let me know he was really paying attention.

He nodded so I continued.

“I can’t keep being a pawn in your torturous game Harry. It’s not fair to me. You’re breaking me apart and you don’t even care. The thing that hurts the most Harry,” I fought the tears for as long as I could, but the alcohol made it nearly impossible “is the fact that I know I could make you so happy. I would do everything in my power to give you the world. Hell, I basically already do. But you’re so blinded by “not wanting to be with me” that you don’t even realize how good I am for you. How good I am to you. If you stop telling yourself you’re not allowed to love me, I guarantee I’d make you fall. But if that’s not what you want. If you really, truly don’t even want to give me a chance, I’m done. I’ll have to walk away before you finish draining what little of me, I have left. And if that’s what it comes to, I’m begging you, please just let me go. No more games.”

Harry just stood and, like he so often did, stared. Blank. I felt like I was frozen in that moment and all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, I could feel myself began to sober up as I stood in anticipation of Harry’s response. I wished like hell I was still drunk, because maybe it would’ve hurt less when Harry finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began backing away back towards the stairs. “I’ll leave you alone.” And with that he spun on his heels and trotted back down to the party.

[dreamrecorder]

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there��s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

~

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

~

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

~

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

~

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

~ 

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

~

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

~

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall. 

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it. 

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

~

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more. 

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?” 

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils. 

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself. 

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice. 

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?” 

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

~

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue. 

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore. 

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil. 

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer. 

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night. 

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

[wthtorke]

Incandescent (Kofi commission)

Kofi one shot commission by  Insta is day_of_mayhem! 

(I might have gone off on this one lmao Enjoy!)

Incandescent. 

The night had been quiet, the trees softly hustling against one another as the wind blew. First, it was the strange noise.

From your little house in the woods, a sharp noise rattled through your bed, making you jump up in surprise.  Running to the window, you saw what could only be described as a falling star, coming quickly towards your house.

You could barely brace yourself against the windowsill as the star ripped through the clouds, falling far into the woods. Panting and scared, you looked for any signs of it. Any burning trees, smoke, noise coming from the general direction where it fell. You found none. 

From the window, you caught sight of your truck, still parked in the driveway. Grunting to yourself, you made your decision as you grabbed a coat and the wooden axe from the fireplace, running to your car, hoping to find the fallen star before anyone else did.

Gripping the steering wheel hard enough your knuckles turned white, you drove through the path in the forest, stopping when even more strange noises reached your ears.

Stopping your car, you tilted your head slightly, trying to catch it again. Seconds passed before a sudden blast made you jump, looking into the direction a flash of light also happened. Leaving the car, you held the axe close to your chest as you slowly walked towards the noise, breathing quickly as you did.

From the trees behind you, a slick, black ridged tail moved quietly as its owner's drool fell onto the tree branches, slowly stalking towards you. 

'Hssssssss..' 

Eyes widening, you turned around in time to see a black creature jumping from the tree, arms outstretched and claws ready to tear into you. 

Falling to the ground, the creature landed heavily on you, claws grappling your axe handle as you barely had time to process its weight before shiny, sharp fangs closed itself repeatedly before your face. 

You only realized you were screaming when the creature shifted its weight to your chest, cutting your air as it reeled back to strike one final time to kill you.

Closing your eyes in fear, you could only open them again as an animalistic roar reached your ears, and then the crushing weight wasn't there anymore, a screech and a heavy, wooden thud following suit. The creature had been rammed from on top of you, instead hitting the tree it jumped from hard in its back, falling to the ground, briefly shaken. 

You took your chance to get up as well and dart between the trees, out of the creature's way. You only bothered looking for whatever had knocked it out of you when the black creature hissed into another direction, and you realized there was absolutely nothing there. 

Still, under the dim moonlight, the creature leaped into nothingness, surprisingly landing on the thin air, snapping and hissing, swinging its tail around. You watched as it tried to hit something with its piercing tail. With a roar, you jerked back as it seemed to hit its goal, whatever was beneath it started zapping and glowing with failing electrical power, soon revealing what the thing was perched on as it didn't stop its struggles for one second. 

At this point, you had come to the conclusion that they were indeed aliens, and the star was no star but probably a ship that crash landed, even if you had no idea where it was now. The stream of roaring and screaming snapped you out of your thoughts, the massive humanoid alien trying to shake the creature from it’s back as best as it could, while still trying to dodge its deadly tail.

You looked around, your fight or flight instincts screaming at you to do something, anything. Looking at the dark forest behind you, you had no idea if there were other alien serpents around or more alien warriors to help this one. It was when the serpent's tail pierced the warrior's arm and you saw bright green blood explode everywhere that you took action.

Running towards both of them with your axe in hand. 

Your decision was made as the blade of your weapon sunk into the black creature’s back, it’s startled shrill making your ears ring as it’s tail hit you hard in the chest, both making you fly a few feet back and thankfully escape it’s weird fizzing blood that you’d later come to know was pure acid. 

You shook your head as you tried to breathe again, all the air knocked out from your lungs as you landed on your back. Your vision threatened to darken as you sat up, trying to spot where the aliens were.

Slowly your ears started focusing again as did your eyes, permitting you to see that not only was the black serpent not on top of the alien warrior anymore as said warrior was about to jam it’s blades into the serpent’s throat. The most intense occurrence of all your life didn’t last more than 5 minutes it seemed.

Getting up on your wobbly feet, you noticed just about how much blood there was around the ground. You watched as the warrior clutched his side, chest rising and falling as he stared at you, and while he could absolutely kill you if he so wanted, he didn’t.

Not that you were opposed to that, of course.

You felt the adrenaline die down in your blood, the cold air finally making you shiver a bit. You looked at who you supposed was a ‘he’ and back towards the general direction of your car. If his ship had truly crashed, he was stranded. Hurt and stranded.

“Safe,” You said, pointing back where your car was, “Together…?” You questioned, montioning between you and him with your less hurt hand. He took a few moments to analyze the situation before making his decision. He was hurt, more so than he’d like to admit, but less than he’d be if you hadn’t shown up. He nods, slowly, unsure, later following you to the truck, all but hauling himself up the back of the pickup truck. ‘I’ll definitely need to hose that down in the morning.’ You thought as you saw the green blood streaks as you got into the driver's seat.

The drive back was smooth, no longer fueled by raw fear and adrenaline. You felt tired, maybe because of the bruises forming where you got hit or well, the fact that this was more action than you had since….Well, ever. Getting home, you didn’t really know why you snuck him through the garage door, you had no neighbors and no family living with you but somehow it seemed the right thing to do, he was an alien after all.

He seemed to know the concept of showering, at least. He washed all the dirt and grime off of his body and you were more than a little upset at yourself that you didn’t see him take off his mask, only noticing your mistake when he got out of the bathroom and the metal was so clean it was sparkling. 

You watched as he sat in your living room and started patching himself up. While he wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore, the roaring surely gave you chills down your spine as he plunged some kind of needle into his thigh, pumping the syringe’s contents into his system before sewing his wound shut.

You pointed at the couch and told him to make himself at home, as far as that could go, anyway. You passed out as soon as you hit the pillow, your body paying no mind to the huge alien downstairs.

The next morning, he was gone.

 As much as you were expecting it, it still felt...odd. Like some kind of fever dream. Only you knew it happened by the state of your house and garage. If you didn’t know it was an alien, you’d have thought a wild bear had wrecked your house. The floor was muddy, some things were out of place or straight up on the floor while some you couldn’t tell if they were touched at all. 

Sighing, you gathered the broom, mop and trash bags to start your new mission; Cleaning the house. 

Cleaning was usually boring, but this time it just felt restless. Even as your favorite songs played in the background. Of course, no alien could just have a slumber party in some human’s house but still, much had happened yesterday. You wondered when the government’s men were going to burst through your window and shoot a sedative up your arm because you’ve had alien interaction. 

You were cleaning the kitchen cupboards when a reflection that very much wasn't your own caught your attention in the mirror. Squinting a bit, you jumped back when your eyes focused and revealed your guest's reflection, only his position was right behind you. "FUCK-” You turned around quickly, hitting your knee in the process, ”When did you get here?! God-," You started coughing a bit from the sudden intake of air.

You looked back at him when you heard strange noises coming from his helmet, almost like someone was tuning a radio before the words became clear, recordings.

"No-, trails."

You blinked in confusion for a second before realizing what he meant, slight dread setting in your gut at the prospect that an alien could speak, or well, play recordings of english to you. "Trails-, in the forest? Wow..that’s, that’s very nice, actually, hadn’t thought of that,” you thought over your next words, taking in his huge form as you did, “You’re headed home now, I suppose?”

He shook his head, motioning to his still tender wounds from yesterday’s battle against the serpent.

The serpent.

“Oh, Um-, That thing is dead, right?”

He nodded, “Exterminated. Contained.”

Contained.

“Great, great-, well, if you’re not planning to kill me and take over my house, you’re um...very welcome to stay?” You said, a bit unsure.

He nodded, walking over silently towards your garage door, you heard rummaging around, following to see him picking up after a broken vase you didn’t remember was there.

He was a considerate roommate, you could say. Wherever this alien came from, he knew of common sense, or just had a very strict mama as he helped in the chores he could. You suspected he didn’t trust you to clean his trails properly, but you weren’t complaining of free help.

Another thing you could tell is that he learned fast. Very fast. 

He’d been skeptical of you, at first. You’d never catch him sleeping or eating, always the same passive expression of his mask looking back at you. You couldn’t blame him, but even then, it was hard not to speculate what was underneath it. Did he look like Davy Jones? The Shape? He didn’t seem to be aquatic. Maybe a lizard? His skin was mottled like one, at least. 

3 months passed by before you both had that feeling. He’d been here for too long. His wounds were beyond healed, no one had shown up for him, no government, no other aliens, nothing. You’d seen him mess with his wrist gauntlet a few times, seen him test the cloaking device he had, it worked. 

So, why was he still here?

  It was on a similar night that you met him that you mustered the courage to ask.

The stars were bright, as was the moonlight. The breeze was soft, you both sat outside for a bit, looking into the forest. He told you he feared they’d come at night. You guessed he spoke of other humans, the kind that would want to study him alive, in the name of ‘science’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Are you waiting for your people to come get you? Have you sent a signal yet?”

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched a bit, the cold air around you prickling at your skin. “Oh-, well...have they replied?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, “So, I guess they’ll be coming soon, right?”

You waited for another robotic ‘Yes’ to hit your ears, to shatter your fantasy of living a nice life with him, somehow.

“No.”

“No?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him, “Why not?”

He turns to look at you for a second, at least you could assume he was looking at you behind the mask.

With that, he lifted his hands to the object of your speculation during the last 3 months, fingers slowly snapping off tubes that connected it to the rest of his armor with an audible ‘Fzzzzz’.

You held your breath as he hooked his fingers around the mask, snapping it off as well. He hovered the mask for a second before slowly lowering it away from his face.

You could feel your pupils dilate as you took in the sight of him, the spiky crown around his forehead, the mottling, so similar to the rest of his body, going down to his eyes, you lingered there for a moment, taking in how yellow they looked, and how they were staring directly into your own.

You gulped as you kept lowering your gaze, spotting the fangs, the tusks, the strong jaws that could very much clamp around your neck right now, if he so wanted. Everything about him screamed predator before, but now, having the last piece of the puzzle, you could only think of one word to describe him.

Perfect.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when his hand touched yours, so tender, mindful of his talons, yet still enveloping your cold ones in warmth. You looked up at him, fingers slowly squeezing his own, an attempt to show him you weren’t afraid, just stunned.

“Stay.” He said, in a much deeper voice than any he’d ever played for you before. His voice.

You only realized you were crying when the tears caught in between the crinkles of your smile, stopping their journey straight down your face, giving them a shortcut to falling down your chin, to where his other hand was raising up, gently tipping your face up, as he lowered his own, pressing your foreheads together.

“Stay.” You repeated, in a much quieter, shakier voice than his, but with every bit of intention behind it, still smiling as he squeezed your hand again.

Suddenly, the night didn’t feel nearly as cold anymore, nor did it feel as lonely as it once did.