#it Always does but i keep my mouth shut (trust me for every post i complain about it theres like 4x as many thoughts) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wastelandmoony · 6 months ago

Note

Heyy I don’t know if you take requests or not but I saw you write for both HL and the marauders, and I’ve had this specific fic idea that I cannot find to save my life (and I’m a shit writer) so I was wondering about like fem!hufflepuff!reader during the marauders era, but she has like the ancient magic from HL (maybe voldemort is trying to harness it instead of ranrok) and nobody knows except her 😳😳 and she’s friends with the marauders but she kinda has a thing for remus and he does too but they’re so shy, and somehow her powers get revealed, she gets hurt, angst + hurt/comfort???

Hi!!! I don't explicitly take requests, but I'm also not opposed to them so thank you for submitting one! I feel like this is a little more angsty than you were originally after, so I apologize lol

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Icarian Carrion

Pairing: Remus Lupin x F!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, language, sexual innuendos

Hogwarts, 1978

The Room of Requirement was silent as she inhaled deeply, letting both eyes sink shut. The wand hummed against her palm, a constant almost imperceptible vibration that kept her grounded. She listened closely to the chirping birds, the rustling of leaves, the creak of branches. Exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes and braced for the targets. Quickly, multiple dummies rose from the bushes, and she unleashed her attack one after another. The power flowing through her spanned back generations, handed down by her mother, from her mother before her, her mother before her, and so on, tracing back to the 1800s. She’d known she was different from a young age, having abilities to see things others could not, being able to wield magic far beyond her years; her mother was not surprised of course, being the one to harness identical power, and the moment she was able to fully comprehend the scope of it, her mother sat her down and explained their family history.

During the Goblin Rebellion in the late 19th century, her great-great-grandmother uncovered a hidden repository filled with ancient magic. To ensure the magic was never able to fall into the wrong hands, she absorbed it, passing it down generation after generation. Her mother instilled in her the knowledge of how large of a responsibility this was, that this power could still be harnessed by outside forces by coercion and manipulation. She would always need to be on guard, and always trust her instincts.

So here she was, blasting at dueling dummies in the Room of Requirement during her free period between classes. The news had been getting increasingly more dire, and it seemed like James had a new update from his parents on the war efforts almost every other day now. Her mother worried that the day might come when her abilities would be necessary, so she had warned her via owl post months ago to be ready for anything, whether that be fighting back or disappearing completely. There was already a plan in place to pull her out of school and lie low outside of the country should her parents feel that she was in danger. But she refused to run, refused to hide, especially with her friends all eager on joining the Order. The lot of them had vowed to do it after leaving school in a few months, Sirius and James foaming at the mouth for the chance to fight. None of them knew about her abilities, a secret her family had kept for generations, but continuing that tradition was becoming harder and harder because of one person in particular.

She exited the Room of Requirement quietly, keeping cool and neutral to avoid being caught. As she rounded the corner towards the main stairway, a hand pulled her down the opposite hall.

“What were you doing?” Remus stared at her curiously, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Studying?” She choked out, trying her best to sound convincing and normal.

He didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” he rolled his eyes playfully, “don’t lie to me, you’re a terrible liar, love.”

Fuck. He always knew how to rip at her heartstrings with a single word. She had met the boys during her first year at school, quickly melding into their group seamlessly. They became a tightly knit group, over the years folding in more friends like Marlene, Lily, and Mary. Out of them all though, Remus had always been her closest confidant. They were never far from one another, always drawn in like magnets. She loved him fiercely, a feeling that up until the past year or so she had thought was strictly platonic; ignoring all of the butterflies and skipped heartbeats when he was near. She loved him. She was in love with him. She would rather die than risk their friendship and address it.

Pushing past him to continue back toward the stairs, she huffed. “I’m not lying, I was studying for Defense. Something you could probably benefit from…” she gave him a sarcastic glance, catching his overly-dramatic scoff.

“Excuse me?” It only took him a few long strides to catch up to her, falling into step as they made their way downstairs, “I’ll have you know that I’ve received top marks in Defense every single year.”

She bit back a grin, walking towards the Great Hall. The distant sound of students eating echoed down the corridor.

“You’re up to something,” Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, just as the smell of lunch permeated the air. He was always so easily distracted by food, something she never failed to use to an advantage. “I’ll figure it out soon enough, don’t you worry.” He smirked playfully, immediately dropping his crusade in lieu of joining the other boys at the table.

She sighed with mild relief, taking her place beside him.

———

It was stupid of her to assume that Remus had forgotten about seemingly catching her at the Room of Requirement, though hindsight is 20/20 after all. The following week, she made her usual trip up to practice with the dummies again, only this time she had a visitor. The corridor outside the room was clear (she always made sure to triple check), so she quietly whispered the phrase to make the door appear. As she slipped into the room, Remus snuck in behind her, eliciting a swift shove against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed, slamming the door shut before anyone else could come in, keeping her palm flat against his chest.

He smiled triumphantly as she backed away, “I followed you.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Creep.”

Remus chuckled quietly, peering around at the Room of Requirement and whistling low in admiration. “This is…something else…”

Sighing, she sat in a chair beside a large wooden desk strewn with papers and books. “I come here to study.” Not a complete lie, which kept the guilt from eating away at her.

Remus hummed questioningly, staring out at the dueling dummies that lined the magically-created forest off to the left.

“I don’t think you do, at least not for classes anyway,” he mused, gaze coming to a scrutinizing rest on her. “Tell me what’s going on. You’ve been my best friend for years, I know when something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong Remus,” she mumbled, heart beginning to beat out of her chest.

“Whatever it is,” his expression softened slightly, “I can help. Let me help you.”

She shook her head, resolve beginning to chip. “You can’t help this time…”

She watched as he visibly swallowed dryly, “So…there is something going on then, isn’t there?”

For a few moments, they stared at each other, standing at the edge of an impasse. Finally, she sighed, and began to tell Remus everything.

———

“So you’ve been preparing to fight?” Remus had paled slightly when she explained her end goal. No matter what her parents wanted, she was going to use her abilities to fight back. It could be a turning point in the war, if only she could strengthen and control them fully.

She nodded firmly, unwavering even after hearing him beg for her to stay out of this. “Do you—do you want me to show you?”

Remus smiled slightly, eager to see the ancient magic she had described in action. He watched intently as she cast some of it towards the dummies, illuminating the space around them with bright blue light before each dummy shattered into pieces with barely a flick of her wrist. When she finished, Remus stared at her in awe, like a goddess come down to this earth. She blushed at the intensity of his gaze, “Please stop looking at me like that.”

He didn’t. Instead, abruptly spitting out a sentence that froze her entirely.

“You’re so beautiful.”

She stared back at him, “…what?”

Remus shook his head, averting his eyes quickly as he realized what he had said out loud. “I uh—I should go actually. I forgot I told Sirius I’d meet him—“

“Yeah. That’s…fine,” she coughed nervously, “I’ll see you at dinner later?”

Remus nodded, and she didn’t miss the blush that dusted his cheeks as he turned towards the door.

———

London, 1979

Sirius swung his legs as he sat on the kitchen counter, watching as the two of them bickered back and forth. “Oh come off it Moony!” He smirked, taking a sip of his coffee, “Let her go, she’s one of the best fighters we have.”

She shot Sirius a wink, quickly focusing back on Remus’ scowling face.

“I’m not letting her go off on this completely insane mission for Dumbledore!” Remus snapped, folding his arms across his chest in finality.

“You’re not letting me?” Her eyes widened, “I'm sorry, but who are you to determine what I may or may not do with my own life?”

Remus visibly bristled, “Your best fucking friend! Someone who cares very deeply about you!”

She hummed, just as Sirius mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like “that’s one way to put it.”

“Well as my best friend, you of all people should respect my wishes. I’m doing the job, and you can’t stop me,” she pushed past him to exit the kitchen they all shared, but not before Sirius could let out a frustrated huff of annoyance.

“Can you two just please, do us all a favor, and fuck already?”

She stopped in her tracks, Remus freezing as well. Neither of them made a move until she turned slowly to glare daggers at Sirius.

“What the fuck is wrong with you…” she mumbled, finally storming down the hallway and slamming the door to her room.

Sirius smirked, hopping off the counter to clap Remus on the shoulder. “All I’m gonna say, is that I’m going to James’ house for a few hours. So feel free to be as loud as you want. Get out some of that anger.”

Before Remus could swat him, Sirius ducked and apparated to meet James.

He sighed, collecting his thoughts before making the walk down to her room, unable to let her leave on a bad note. The mission she had be asked to lead was a dangerous one, Dumbledore had asked for her personally. Remus wasn’t sure of the entire job, seeing as how he wasn’t involved, but he had a feeling it had to do with her abilities. Dumbledore had found out about them shortly after they all joined the Order, but only because she had let him. She wanted to show him that she could be a weapon, and a devastating one at that; one that the Order could use (or exploit as he put it) to end the war. The notion didn’t sit right with Remus, something he had tried to express multiple times to her with no response other than “Dumbledore knows what he’s doing, Remus”. Knocking softly, he listened for a response.

“I don’t want to talk to you Remus,” she called through the door, immediately knowing he would show up and apologize moments after their fight. They’d been friends for too long, their habits and quirks were as familiar as a reflection.

Remus sighed, “Please open the door. I just…I need to talk to you.”

The lock clicked, door opening a crack to reveal her stoic face. “Go ahead, then.”

He resisted rolling his eyes, “May I come in?”

“You don’t seem to have an issue dictating my actions, so you tell me.”

Before he could respond, she turned and sat on her bed, allowing him entrance into her room. Even though no one else was home, he shut the door quietly to create more tangible privacy. She looked at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He offered calmly.

“No you’re not,” she sighed, “You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. I just—I just wish you’d have more faith in me, I guess…”

Remus stared at her like she’d struck him. “Have faith in you? Love, I’m in awe of you always.”

Her heart began to flutter erratically, meeting his eyes to try and find any bit of mockery in his words. She found none.

“How could I not be?” He continued, “You’re the strongest witch I know, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met—and that’s not even taking into account your ancient power.”

She blushed, giving him a small smile as she looked up at him, “…One of the smartest?”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Fine. The smartest person I know.”

She stood up and hugged him, melting into his warmth as he returned the embrace. “Apology accepted. But please…can you try to not control my every move from now on? I’m going to be a part of this war whether you like it or not.”

Remus rested a cheek atop her head, “I just can’t lose you…and I know how determined you are. I don’t want you to get caught up and become involved in something you can’t come back from.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. The mission isn’t even happening just yet, there’s still time to prepare. You just need to trust me,” she looked up at him.

“I promise to trust you if you promise to always come back to me,” he murmured.

For the briefest of moments, she hated him. Hated the way he made her heart soar, hated the way her fingers itched to trace every scar that marred his skin, hated how her lips craved to discover what his felt like. But more than that, she hated the coward within her, the one that didn’t dare reveal the truth to him. So instead, she buried her face in his chest and squeezed him tightly. “I’ll always come back to you Remus.”

———

London, 1980

Her bag had been packed for over a week, sitting underneath her bed as it awaited retrieval. The war had taken a turn for the worse, all of them living in a constant state of fear for not only themselves but for others. She knew the orders for the mission were incoming; she could feel it. James and Lily had told them all about the prophecy regarding their unborn child, a boy if it was believed to be true, a little boy they were to name Harry. The news had struck her so hard she had almost vomited right there on the Potter’s carpet. Remus’s arm around her waist was the only thing that kept her upright. That night, when they arrived back at the apartment, Sirius went straight to his room without another word, silent and angry. She had sat in Remus’s arms and cried until the tears wouldn’t come, settling for the sweet oblivion of sleep instead. She’d awoken pressed against his chest, Remus choosing to stay intertwined on the couch instead of depositing her sleeping body in her own bed. The memory of his peaceful face inches from hers that morning is the one that kept her moving as she threw the bag strap over her shoulder and apparated to a small house near the Forest of Dean. She thought of him and it gave her a reason to leave; she needed to help save him. She needed to help save all of them. Her non-essential belongings were left behind in the apartment, along with a note for Remus that she placed atop his dresser.

“I’ll always come back to you,” is all it said.

———

Islington, 1995

Remus followed the scent of coffee from their bedroom on the 2nd floor of Grimmauld Place. It was one of life’s simple pleasures that he still managed to hold onto during times like this. As he trudged into the kitchen with a yawn, Sirius placed a mug on the table and smiled softly.

“Morning, Moony,” he said as Remus sat down, offering a fond look of his own. They were both confined to the townhouse, Sirius in all actuality, but Remus more in solidarity; and though the isolation was sometimes stifling, Remus quite enjoyed the domesticity it allowed them. It reminded him of her. Sirius tossed the Daily Prophet onto the table in front of Remus, another daily habit of his being combing the paper for any news or breakthroughs in the war. He still couldn’t believe it was all happening again…

On the fourth page, about halfway down, a small article caught his attention:

Dumbledore Loyalist Spy Found Dead in Ireland.

Smiling in a Ministry photo below, was her.

He couldn’t breathe.

He’d spent 15 years searching for her, trying to find any information as to where she had disappeared to that night over a decade ago. Her letter was still in his drawer. Remus would read it every now and then when the memories got to be too much.

I’ll always come back to you.

He had believed it.

He was a fool.

“Oh my darling, what have you done…” he whispered, hand coming to cover his mouth.

Sirius appeared over his shoulder to see what was going on, immediately gripping Remus’ shoulder in support. “Fuck…” he whispered, “Moony, I’m—“

Remus shook his head, “He knew…”

“Who knew?” Sirius kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Dumbledore fucking knew she was alive this whole time!” Remus slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the coffee mugs. “Sirius, he knew I was looking for her! He saw it all and said nothing! He let her—he let her die…” His face crumpled as the tears began to fall, dropping onto the newspaper and smudging the ink in their wake.

“Remus,” Sirius said softly, holding back tears of his own, “I’m so sorry…”

A low growl sounded from Remus, standing up to launch his coffee mug across the kitchen, smashing against the far wall in a spray of ceramic. “He used her! He made her into a fucking weapon that he just—that he just could throw away!”

Sirius gripped his arm, moving around to hug him, letting Remus release a deep sob into his chest.

“I loved her,” he whispered, “I never told her…”

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat, “I know…we all knew.”

Remus sniffed, “Do you—do you think she did?”

He sat with the thought for a moment, remembering the way Remus and her had always looked at each other, how they would always be within arms reach. He remembered the night he found them on the couch, a week before she disappeared, Remus cradling her closely as they slept. He’d suspected for years that they were in love, but that night had solidified it.

Sirius met his eyes, a corner of his lips quirking upward, “She did. She might not have realized it…but I think she knew.”

Remus inhaled a shaky breath, and Sirius moved to sit on the bench. “She loved you too, y’know.”

Remus lifted his gaze, eyes red and glassy, “How d’you know?”

He shrugged, giving him a small, sad grin, “I just…it was obvious. At least to the rest of us apparently.”

Remus huffed out a sorry excuse of a laugh, the two of them sitting together in silence for a moment.

“I miss her Pads…” he whispered.

“I know, I do too,” Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in. Remus reached forward and tore out the article, ripping delicately around the photo so you could no longer see the headline. It was just her. The same eyes he had loved since they were eleven, the familiar smile that she’d give whenever she saw him. She looked older, they all did, but she was more beautiful to him than ever.

Remus stood from the table and went back up to his room, Sirius beginning to clean up the shattered coffee mug against his friend’s insistence. From his drawer, he pulled out the wrinkled letter, unfolding it to re-read the scribbled handwriting he’d spent years memorizing. Placing the small photo atop the note, he folded it back up, kissing it once.

“You broke your promise love,” he whispered, “but I forgive you. You know I could never stay mad at you for very long.”

Remus placed the note back in the top drawer, and headed back downstairs to help Sirius clean up the mess he had made.

#marauders fic #marauders era fic #marauders era fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders request #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy marauders crossover

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missrosegold · 1 year ago

Text

and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part I

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

A massive thank you goes out to @candycandy00 for beta’ing this for me! Thank you for helping me get used to this writing style. Your advice was so incredibly helpful! Another massive thank you goes out to the lovely @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! it's beautiful and it's about time I used it!

You can find me on A03 under the same username: MissRoseGold. This story is cross-posted there as well if the formatting on here is difficult to follow along!

Likes and relogs are always appreciated! I hope you enjoy <3

As far back as you can remember, you’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin.

You remember being just a small child when you saw him for the first time. You were at the market with your mother when you happened to look past her, and saw a tall, lanky man dressed in a black robe with the hood up, standing just a few feet away from you. He seemed to focus intently on something in the distance, but you couldn’t follow his line of sight.

You remember not being able to see much of his face from where you were standing, but then the stranger had shifted. The hood that had been concealing most of his face had fallen slightly, allowing you to catch a glimpse of unruly snowy white hair and the dark, mottled skin that made up the man’s lower jaw.

You remember feeling alarmed, having never seen anything like it before, and you had tugged on your mothers’ skirts, whispering that the hooded man next to you looked very strange. Your mother had stopped what she was doing and had looked in the direction you were pointing at, but the moment you turned your head to point the man out to her, he was gone.

Your mother had scolded you something fierce about lying to her, before taking you by the hand and half leading, half dragging you out of the market. You looked for the hooded man as she pulled you along, trying to see if you could spot him in the busy market crowd, so you could prove to your mother that you weren’t lying, but you didn’t see him again.

You don’t remember much else from that day, but you do recall that the next morning you were informed that your best friend’s aunt had passed away late in the night, and that you and your family were attending the funeral that afternoon.

You didn’t see the white-haired man for a while after that.

Over the years you swore up and down that you saw brief glimpses of the strange man around town from time to time. He always seemed to be just out of sight, lurking in the corners of your vison, disappearing completely if you turned your head too fast, or tried to look directly at him.

For a horrible while during your early teen years, you thought you had been going mad, but you were sure that the person you were seeing wasn’t a ghost, just a man with what looked like horrible leathery burns from his jaw down to his neck, and possibly down his arms too, from what you could remember seeing of the skin on his hands, where his cloak didn’t fully cover.

You had tried a number of times over the years to point out the brooding stranger whenever you had someone else with you, but every time without fail, he would be gone by the time they turned to look in the direction you were pointing in. You quickly learned to keep your mouth shut whenever you saw the stranger, as it became very apparent from the mixture of dirty and worried looks that your family and friends gave you whenever you brought the man up, that you were the only one who could see him.

So, you never spoke of him out loud again.

You had no idea why you seemed to be the only one who could see the mysterious man. You found yourself wondering if you were in fact losing your sanity, or if you were somehow under an illusion from one of the mischievous Fae that called the woods surrounding your small village home. You hoped you weren’t – you didn’t feel like you were, but there was only one way to find out, and that was finding the stranger yourself.

And so, you started actively looking for the man who’s name you didn’t know, whenever you were alone or had some time for yourself.

One evening, several years after you started your search for the stranger, you found him.

You had wandered into the forest that surrounded your town, just as the sun was setting behind the tree line. You knew that it was dangerous to head into the woods near dusk, as that was the time that the Fae who called the woods home were most likely to try and lure unsuspecting victims into the thick of the forest, never to be seen again. But you knew the woods too, as your family home backed directly onto it, and you knew which paths were safe to travel, even though your grandparents had warned you countless times as you got older not to enter the forest without an escort.

There was one trail in particular that led you straight through the underbrush and to a lovely, secluded pond near the middle of the woods that your father had taken you down once when you were small. You remember feeling a lot happier back then, giggling and dipping your toes in the cool water with your father before he took you back to the house; only for your mother to scream at you both, about how it wasn’t proper for a future lady to wander around in the dirt, and how your father should’ve known better then to take you to such a place.

That was the last time he had taken you out into the woods, but you had never forgotten the path he had taken you on all those years ago that led directly to your pond.

You can’t remember the last time you had smiled like your child self had done once.

Pushing back branches that obscured the pond from the covered path, you breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped out into the open. The glade was relatively unchanged from the last time you had been there: the sun was slowly sinking behind the tree-line, turning the sky a deep burnt orange, casting long shadows over the still water in the pond. Crickets chirped and you could hear the distant song of birds echo around the open space, like some sort of somber melody that signaled the coming of night.

It was peaceful, and you were alone. Until you weren’t.

A dark shape standing perfectly still under the massive willow tree by the pond’s edge caught your attention. The stranger looked glaringly out of place against the reflection of the sunset caught in the water’s surface. You froze in place, not daring to breathe as you took in the sight of the strange figure before you. The stranger had on a long dark cloak with the hood up that obscured any distinguishable features from view, but you could tell that it was a man based on the stranger’s height and build. He wasn’t massive, but he was tall, taller than you, and while he was wasn’t overly muscular, something told you that he wasn’t weak or frail either.

In all your years of coming to the glade, you had never once run into another person. You had started to think that you were the only other person in your village aside from your father who knew about the secluded clearing, and yet, there was someone here. Someone you didn’t recognize.

You stood at the entrance to the clearing quietly, contemplating what to do, when you heard the cloaked figure exhale loudly. You watched with bated breath as he reached up with his large hands and pulled the hood off his head to reveal-

White hair, bright and pale like you were gazing at moonlight.

A strangled note of surprise left your mouth before you fully registered that you had made it. It was him, it was really him: the man that you had been looking for all this time. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was him, it had to be.

You watched as the man suddenly perked up at the noise you’d unwillingly made, and slowly turned around to face you. Suddenly, you found yourself unable to look away as his eyes met yours.

Time seemed to slow down in that moment, and the second you locked eyes with him, the air suddenly shifted, and the sun sunk fully behind the tree-line, plunging the clearing into twilight dusk, shrouding you both as the creatures of the night who lived in the forest slowly came to life around you.

None of it mattered though because you couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. You’d only been able to see glimpses of him from afar but now that he was here in front of you, his eyes were as deep as the ocean and just as captivating. His skin was a patchwork of dark purple burns, just like you remember seeing from the few times you had managed to look at him for more than a few seconds, held together by what looked to be staples – some silver, some gold. The burns extended from under his eyes, to his ears (which now that you had an uninterrupted view of him, could see that he had multiple piercings in each ear), that extended down his jaw and neck, and though his cloak prevented you from seeing more, you were fairly certain that they probably went lower. A quick glance to his hands confirmed your theory, as you saw more burns creeping down past the loose sleaves of his robe, down to his hands.

“It’s you.” You breathed. You blinked and suddenly you found yourself much closer to the stranger then you remembered being initially. He hadn’t moved from his spot under the willow, but instead opted to give you an unreadable look.

“You see me.” The low gravel tones of his voice shook you from whatever trance you had fallen into. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

You couldn’t help but snort, damn your mother and her etiquette lessons that she tried to cram down your throat. “Obviously. I see you perfectly fine, but I seem to be the only one who can. Care to explain why that is?”

The scarred man gave you a flat look, and suddenly, you found yourself unable to look away from the deep blue of his eyes. “You’re not supposed to be able to see me. No one is. Have you always been able to?” Completely deflecting your question, as he began to reach into the pocket of his robe.

You hesitated before answering, all of your earlier bravado had faded upon noticing the guarded way the man was acting. Clearly the stranger didn’t seem thrilled with your revelation of being able to see him, and for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like you were supposed to be able to at all. It also didn’t escape you that you knew absolutely nothing about the strange man in front of you. He could be an assassin for all you knew, and you were painfully aware that if you didn’t answer him carefully, this conversation with him could very well be one of the last ones that you’d ever have.

“…What’s the correct answer?” you finally mustered up the courage to ask.

The stranger sighed, but didn’t relax his stance. “Just answer me truthfully.”

“I… have. Always been able to see you, that is.” You murmured, hating the way your voice faltered, as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

The stranger hummed, but didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. “I see. Has anyone else been able to see me, or is it just you?”

“Just me, as far as I know. I’ve tried to tell people about you, but nobody believes me… I’ve stopped talking about you to anyone.” You paused upon realizing that you were rambling as an amused look entered the man’s eyes. Still feeling like you were frozen in place, you hesitantly added,

“I just… I just wanted to find you to prove to myself that I wasn’t seeing things. That you do exist. Now I know you do.”

“Interesting…” The white-haired man seemed to look through you once again, then he blinked, and the tension that had locked you in place seemed to disappear as quickly as it had come on, and you felt as if an invisible weight had been lifted off your chest.

You let out the breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in as you watched the burnt stranger relax his posture and withdraw his hand out of his robe pocket. “Well. You found me, now what?”

It was almost embarrassing. You had spent the last couple of years so focused on finding him, and proving to yourself once and for all that you were in fact, not crazy, that you never stopped to think about what you would do once you actually found him. Worse, this stranger seemed to already know that.

“I- your name.” you choked out, silently cursing yourself as the man cocked an eyebrow at you.

“What?” he asked you, completely deadpan.

“Your name. Could you tell me your name? I don’t think I got it.” you repeated, forcing yourself to go slower this time.

“That’s because I didn’t give it.” The man’s piercing blue eyes washed over you again, this time with a hint of amusement. He ran a large, scared hand through his hair. “So, you want to know my name huh?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s normally not the first thing people ask me, if they manage to see me.” the man countered as he tilted his head to the side and pulled down the hood of his robe, reveling more of the deep purple burns that covered the expanse of his neck and traveled down his collarbones. “Normally they want to know how I got these… It’s fucking annoying.”

“I don’t care about that.” you murmured quietly, causing the man to shoot you a look that, wasn’t quite shock but bordered on surprised.

“No?”

“No, I mean… they used to intimidate me when I first saw you, but after so many years of seeing you around my village, I’m used to them.” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to fight down the flush that you could feel trying to creep up your neck at your admission. “They don’t bother me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The stranger inhaled sharply at your words and fell deathly silent, averting his gaze away from you. He didn’t speak for several minutes, and you suddenly started to worry that you had somehow offended him. You had just opened your mouth to apologize to him, only for him to murmur something under his breath that you couldn’t catch.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked him gently, causing him to look up at you and fix you with his soul piercing gaze once more.

“Touya. My name is Touya.”

“Touya.” You tested his name out with a giggle and you could have sworn that you saw the skin that wasn’t mutilated on his cheeks flush with a light dusting of pink. You quickly told him your name, and he only nodded with a hint of a smile on his face – like he knew something that you don’t. You asked him about a last name and he only shook his head.

“I go by a lot of names, but you can call me that. That name will be the easiest for you to remember.”

“You have multiple names?” You asked incredulously. Touya only nodded. “Depending on where I am, yes. Names are important. They hold a lot of value.”

That made you pause.

Taking a closer look at him, you noticed that despite the burns on his face looking slightly worse since the first time you saw him, he didn’t look like he’d changed much physically. Had he even aged from the first time you saw him?

“I have another question for you,” You admit.

Touya only leaned back onto the trunk of the willow and nodded at you, as if he already knew you were going to tell him that. “You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’m going to give you an answer though.”

“You… You’re not human, are you?”

If the question caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. The lanky man only laced his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, this time a full-blow smile pulled at the corners of his mottled lips. “No.”

You knew you should have be concerned at his admission, you knew that. You had no idea what he was or what he was capable of – what he could do to you if he wanted to.

The rational part of your mind screamed at you to leave this place and forget about Touya, forget that you ever came here and forget that this encounter ever happened. But even though you knew that you should’ve felt panicked, you didn’t. You felt drawn to him in a way that you had never experienced before. You didn’t feel threatened by him (though maybe you should’ve), and you got the impression that if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done so already.

“Are you… a Fae?” you guessed lightly, causing the tall man to snort as a look of annoyance passed over his face.

“Absolutely fucking not. Does it look like I have a pair of wings growing out of my back?” He rolled his oceanic eyes. “I don’t need to resort to cheap tricks like getting you to tell me your name to hold dominion over you. I have more then enough power as is.”

“So, you’re a sorcerer then.” You smiled triumphantly, placing your hands on your hips. The man let out a raspy chuckle and shook his head as he straightened back up.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m more than just a humble magician, sweetheart.”

“Then what exactly are you?”

The man’s piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, as he fixed you with an unreadable look. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

For some reason, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “So, am I going to get to see you again? You won’t disappear?”

The staples holding the seams of his skin together seemed to pull slightly as he offered you a ghost of a smile. “You’re not annoying like I thought you’d be… I guess I’ll keep you around, for now.”

“Well, that’s- Hey!”

The stranger – no, Touya, you corrected yourself – threw his head back and laughed at your expression – the staples connecting the burnt skin of his jaw to the rest of his face were pulled taught as he cackles. You felt your heart flutter inside of your rib cage as he calmed down and shot you a boyish smile that made him seem much younger than he was.

Against your better judgement, you made your way towards him and sat down beside him under the willow tree, and a moment later, he followed you down.

You don’t remember how long you spent talking to him that night under the willow tree. You only remembered leaving because the first rays of the morning sun had started to peak over the tops of the trees. You remembered that it has cast deep red light across the pond’s surface, making the water light up until it resembled liquid fire.

You remembered leaving the clearing and Touya behind with your heart still pounding in your chest and a smile on your face – ears still ringing with his promise that he would see you again soon.

That had been the start of something beautiful.

----

Over the years you grew closer to Touya.

It was impossible not to. His presence, though commanding at times, was magnetic and kept drawing you back to him. If anyone else had been able to see him the way you could, there was no doubt in your mind that they would have called him intimidating or unnerving. But you find his presence comforting, like curling up next to a warm fireplace in the dead of winter.

His visits to your town are sporadic. He claims he only comes to your town due to his work (aside from stopping by to see you), and that his job takes him all over the continent, which was why he could never stay in one place for too long. He’s never told you what exactly he does for work, claiming that he isn’t allowed to discuss it when you asked him about it once.

When you tried to bring it up again, he had quickly shut down your questions, making it clear to you that he wasn’t going to entertain your curiosities, and you had never brought it up again.

You never know when he’ll be visiting your town next, but every time he comes to your village, he makes good on his promise that he would come to see you. Whenever he did, he would track you down, regardless of where you were, and take you back to the clearing where you had first met, so you could talk uninterrupted.

You’d once mentioned to him that you were rather envious of him, as he got to go to so many different places around the continent – even if it was because his job demanded it of him. Meanwhile you had never left your small town in your twenty something years of existence, even though you desperately wanted to go and explore the world and see what it had to offer.

From that moment on, he made it a point to tell you stories of his travels and what he had gotten up to since he had last seen you. There’s been a few times that he’s brought you back small trinkets from his travels, and you have a small jewelry box dedicated to the little things he’s brought you that only you know about.

Some of the things he’s brought you back include a necklace with a small pendant charm from the West, a set of small blue stone earrings from somewhere in the South that remind you of his eyes, a few coins from different kingdoms around you, and a book that’s written in a language that you can’t understand, but have combed through about three times now. You wear the earrings and the necklace every day, but are mindful to keep them out of your mother’s line of sight, least she asks questions that you can’t give her an answer to.

Strangely enough, there’s one thing that you’ve noticed about Touya’s visits to your town: they always seemed to land during a grieving period. Someone always seems to pass away either right around the time that he appears, or a few days after he’s left. You feel bad, as he’s never gotten to see how vibrant your town can be while not in grieving. He’s only ever seen your town and its people dressed in the customary dark colours used for when a member of the village has passed away. If it bothers him though, he never comments on it.

The one thing you hate the most about the unique friendship that you’ve built with Touya, is you never know when you’re going to see him again. You’ve learned very early on that his work is not consistent in the slightest, and pulls him all over the place. Mostly you see him at least once a month, once it was twice, but sometimes he’s gone for weeks – months even.

There was one period of time where you didn’t see him for five months. That had been a particularly lonely time in your life. When he did come back, he had appeared in front of you – seemingly out of thin air – while you were walking home from a friend’s house. You were so happy you almost cried, completely forgetting that you were in the middle of town, and that other villagers couldn’t see him like you could. From that point on you made it a point to treasure every single interaction with him, as you don’t know when you’ll be able to see him again.

It’s early spring, and once again, Touya is back at your side. His head is in your lap as you leisurely play with his hair (which you’ve come to discover, is much softer than it looks, despite its unruly spikes) You’re both resting by the edge of the pond, underneath the willow tree, simply enjoying each other’s company in a peaceful silence.

You know your mother would lose her mind if she knew that you were letting a man that you weren’t married to be so familiar with you, but you could care less. Touya had never once tried anything salacious with you, and aside from the occasional snarky remark, he was a perfect gentleman to you… which was more then you could say for some of the men your age in your village. The very ones that your mother was trying to set you up with-

You shook your head, quickly dispelling those thoughts. You didn’t want to think about that when you were with Touya. For some reason other men and him didn’t mix well in your mind. Of course, it’s not like the man lying beside you was courting you – but with the way that he treats you, the way he brings you things from his travels, and the way that you’ve seen how his hypnotizing blue gaze softens on occasion when he looks at you; a part of you wishes that he would. You’ve never really seen yourself marrying anyone from your village. None of the men from town have ever made you feel like Touya does--

You shake your head violently, dismissing that train of thought.

That’s dangerous territory as well. You didn’t want to make things complicated between you and him. You know that it’s foolish to develop a crush on the burnt man, especially since no one else can see him and it’s not like he was constantly around to begin with, but with how close you had become and how easy it was to be around him, it was hard not to develop some kind of feelings for him.

Regardless, your feelings meant nothing if he didn’t feel the same, and Touya has never been an easy book to read. For all you knew, he treated every woman the same way he treated you… provided that they could see him like you could, that is.

You feel your mouth dip into a scowl at the thought. It wasn’t like you to get jealous, but you’d be fooling yourself if you said that you didn’t enjoy what you had with the burnt man. Even if sometimes you weren’t sure what exactly it was.

In an effort to distract yourself from your increasingly difficult thoughts, you redirected your attention back down to Touya, who hadn’t moved from the moment he had brazenly dropped his head into your lap, claiming that he was going to rest for a few moments, before shutting his eyes and dozing off into a light sleep. You gently trace your fingers along his strong jaw-line, the skin feeling slightly leathery and dry underneath your fingertips, and you can’t help but feel your heart clench painfully as you take in the entirety his resting face.

His burns are getting worse.

You hate that it’s the first thought that crosses your mind the second you lay eyes on him nowadays, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge it. The worst ones that you’ve seen are the ones on his face. They now stretch past the staples connecting his jaw to the rest of his face and are creeping up to the ones that are underneath his eyes. They almost touch now, and you can’t even begin to imagine how uncomfortable they must be.

You’ve never bothered to ask about the plethora of burns that cover his body. He’s never shown you more than the aggressive one that starts at his ears and travels down his neck, past his collarbones and the ones that travel down his arms, but you know inwardly that there are probably others that you can’t see. They don’t bother you; they never have. But you’ve always wondered how he got them. Even if he’s not quite human, you imagine that those kinds of injuries probably take a toll on the quality of life that someone has, and subsequently, probably shortens their life quite a bit.

You hate thinking about that though, so you speak up, breaking the peaceful silence that had enveloped you both, causing the man in your lap to crack one cerulean eye open, so he can look at you.

“I wish you’d stay longer. It feels like whenever you come, you’re only here for a day or two and then you’re gone again.” You pout, causing him to open his oceanic eyes with a chuckle as he slowly sits back up.

“Sorry Princess, my work takes me all over the place, you know that.”

“I know, I just wish you had a more consistent schedule. I miss you when you’re not here,” you admit. You smile cheekily at him, certain that you see a light dusting of red flash across the parts of his cheeks that aren’t damaged. “Are you ever going to tell me what exactly it is you do for work, or am I going to have to keep on guessing until I get it right?”

“I think I’m going to keep you in the dark for a little bit longer. It’s entertaining seeing you guess all the wrong things.”

“I still think you’re a sorcerer, you just don’t want to admit it. That, or you’re some kind of assassin who ages very slowly.” You tease him lightly. “I know you must be able to do some kind of magic. I mean, you may not be human, but you still look almost the same as you did when I was small. If that’s not because of some magic spell, I don’t know what it is.” You laugh, missing the tense look that passes over Touya’s face. “There’s only a few races I know of that have longevity like you: you’re dead set that you’re not a Fae, and you don’t look like any Elf I’ve ever seen.”

“I promise you, I’m neither. As for my… longevity, it’s not a spell, but you’re right: I can do magic, but it’s not the kind you’re thinking of.” He interrupts you, fixing you with a cool expression.

“Really? Can you show me?” you ask excitedly. This is the first time since you’ve known him that he’s openly admitted that he has more powers than what you initially thought.

“I will, but not here. Do you know where the temples dedicated to your gods are?”

Ah, your village shrines. You haven’t been to them in years, but you know exactly where they are – everyone in your village does and many go to pray at the temples regularly. There is a pantheon of gods and goddesses that the kingdom you belong to worships, even more depending on where you travel to, but your village likes to focus on four in particular:

All Might, the All Mighty One, the most powerful god in all of the pantheon and the guardian of all those who walk your lands. Legends say that he was once a mortal who fought valiantly against an ancient evil and was granted Godhood in return for driving the darkness back.

Endeavor, the King of the Underworld and its fearsome protector. He preferred to stay in the Underworld, dutifully watching over all the souls that inevitably pass through his realm, and giving them an eternal place to rest, as well as serving his own brand of justice to those who had committed heinous acts of violence while alive on the surface.

Hawks, the God of Winds – one of his many titles. He was an interesting deity. He was the only one out of the many gods you worshiped who had large, red wings on his back. No one is quite certain of his origins. Some say he was born a Fae before he achieved godhood, others say that he was a traveling warrior, but no one knows for certain. He is a popular god among those who are traveling either by land or sea, and travelers often pray to him for safe passage during their trips. You’ve heard rumors from the priests who work at his temple that he is closely linked with the Underworld, and sometimes helps shepherd lost souls down there – but you can’t say for certain if it’s fact, or if the priests just want to mess with you.

And then there was the final one, the one that you knew the least about:

Dabi, the God of Cremation, or Death itself – depending on who was telling the story. He was an interesting one. From what you could recall of him, he was the oldest of Endeavor’s many children whom he had with his queen, and resided with his father and the rest of his immediate family in the Underworld. He was responsible for ritualistic death practices, and was the overseer of proper cremation of the deceased. Afterwards, he would supposedly take the souls of the deceased back to the Underworld with him so they could be judged by his father before arriving at their final resting grounds.

Out of all of the gods, he was one of the most mysterious and the least was known about him, compared to the rest of his kin. Many people, even in your town, believed that his name was taboo, and to use it would invoke an early demise – not that you believed that yourself. As much as people feared him, you had yet to hear of someone dying early from the use of his name alone.

Touya touches his hand to your cheek, and you’re snapped out of your reprieve, not realizing that you had gotten lost in your thoughts, and that he was still waiting on your response.

“Yes of course I know where they are, but Touya, why can’t you show me here-“

“Meet me by the Death shrine tonight after the sun goes down and I’ll show you what I mean. You’ll understand why I can’t show you right now.” He cuts you off, reaching out to give your hand a squeeze, pride soaring in his chest when you don’t pull your small hand away from his damaged one. “I’ll see you soon. When sun goes down, come find me.”

And with that, he seemingly vanishes before your eyes.

Night has fallen by the time you’re able to sneak out of your house. It took a while, but you had to make certain that both your parents were asleep before you attempted to sneak out.

You’re wearing nothing but a loose petticoat and a small coverup as you make your way in the direction of the village temples. You shiver and pull your wrap closer to you, as you give the dark forest a sideways glace and quicken your pace, thanking the stars that the snow had melted early this year and that the well-worn trail bordering the forest was clear of ice.

You had debated going through town since it was the quickest way to reach the shrines, but it was late at night, you were unmarried and without an escort, wearing thin clothes, and you were certain that the pubs in town were still open. The last thing you needed was one or multiple bar patrons seeing you walking past and trying to make an advance on you, or worse: alerting your parents that you had snuck out.

You were very certain that your mother would never let you out of the house again if she caught on to what you were doing. A young woman wearing nothing but underclothes, sneaking out in the dead of night to meet a strange man that only she could see?

Yeah, that would go over well.

So, you opted to take the trail that bordered along the edge of the forest instead, which was all the same. It would take you a little longer to get to your destination, but Dabi’s temple – or as many villagers liked to call it: The Death Shrine – was situated further away from the other three temples and was located in a more secluded spot on the edge of the wood, away from praying eyes. Perhaps Touya already knew that from the multitude of times he had visited your town over the years, and why he wanted you to meet him there in the first place.

You just wished it wasn’t so cold. It was early spring, but the nights were still crisp, and tonight was no exception. You desperately hoped the temple was unlocked so you could huddle in it to escape the crisp wind that whipped through your hair and clothes. You hoped that Touya was already there waiting for you. When he had first allowed you to get closer to him, the first thing you noticed about him was that he was exceptionally warm, and always seemed to run hot no matter what season it was. Hopefully he would allow you to take advantage of that if the temple wasn’t an option.

Finally, you reached your destination. You glanced around warily, as you slowly made your way towards the large building that was harshly outlined on the horizon against the surrounding woods.

The Death Shrine didn’t look as derelict as you thought it would, but you could tell that no one had been there for a very long time. The small gardens outside the temple were overgrown and dead and a mixture of new and old ivy was covering every inch of available surface on the outer temple walls. Aside from the rampant weeds growing over it, the building itself looked alright, but the roof had seen better days.

You call out for Touya, once, twice, and are greeted with silence aside from the occasional hoot of an owl far off in the distance. You look around the area for boot prints, a tell-tale sign that he’s here, but you can’t find anything. Now you’re starting to worry.

Did he forget about you? No, he wouldn’t have, he’s always kept his word to you before. Maybe he got held up somewhere? If that was the case, you wouldn’t have the faintest idea where to find him. Aside from the first time the two of you officially met, he was always the one who found you. Never the other way around-

A powerful gale of wind rips through the clearing and seems to push you towards the ruined temple. You have to stifle a yelp as the icy wind blows right through you, and you curse yourself for not thinking to change into warmer clothes before you snuck out.

You bolt towards the temple without a second thought, and reach the massive pair of doors that serve as the only way in and out of the temple. You grab the large iron knocker on one of the doors, fully prepared to test the door to see if it’s locked, but to your surprise, it swings open easily with a deafening groan.

You find it odd that the temple is unlocked. Even if no one has been to it for years, you figured the other priests that serve under the Gods of your village would’ve made sure to lock the temple to keep out vagrants – unless, people were genially too scared of the Cremation God to trespass on his lands.

Another powerful torrent of wind blasts through the clearing, and you don’t think twice as you run into the dark temple. You don’t bother shutting the door behind you, if Touya is looking for you, at least he’ll know where you are.

You rub at your arms, trying to bring some warmth back to them, only to look around the stone building in confusion. You thought for sure that the inside of the temple would have been an icebox seeing how cold it was outside, but for some reason it seems oddly… warm. Not warm enough for you to remove what thin layers you have on, but the temperature in the temple is noticeably different compared to outside.

You take a few more hesitant steps into the temple and look around, fascinated by what you see. Back when it was first built, the temple must have been a sight to behold. Even now, after years of neglect, you can still see bits and pieces of its former grandeur. Though dusty, the inside of the temple is spacious and open, even though it’s in desperate need of a good cleaning. As you look around, something among the gloom catches your attention and you slowly make your way to the opposite end of the temple.

Situated on the wall furthest away from the front doors, on an elevated platform with several stone steps leading up to it, is a massive statue, carved out of marble of the deity himself:

Dabi, God of Cremation and Death.

Every rendition that you’ve seen of the Death God is the same: a seemingly young man, clothed in flowing white burial robes, with a long hood covering the majority of his face, obscuring it from view. You aren’t sure if the hood was intentional, or if it was because no one actually knows what he looks like, but it certainly made the Death God more mysterious, adding to his strange charm.

Stepping closer, you realize that there is a sizable hole in the ceiling directly above the statue, casting moonlight down onto it, making it glow brightly in comparison to the rest of the dim temple. You glance around timidly, not entirely sure if you should kneel, or if there was another way to pay your respects to the elusive god.

As you look around, you notice the sculpture is surrounded by dozens of melted down candles. Even in the dim of the temple, you recognize they were once special prayer candles that priests use to pray with. You didn’t bring any matches with you, but you silently made a promise to yourself that if you ever did come back to the deserted temple, you would bring a new candle – even if he wasn’t a deity that you actively worshiped, it seemed rude to sneak into his temple without giving him some kind of acknowledgment.

Allowing your gaze to travel up the hooded statue, you paused as you realized that instead of a dark space under the hood where the god’s face should have been, that there was, in fact, a face concealed by the long hood of his robes. The darkness surrounding the statue, and the shadows cast down by the moonlight pouring in from the hole in the roof, hid most of his distinguishable features from view. But you could make out the lower half off his jawbone from where you stood.

It might just be a trick of the moonlight casting shadows down onto the hooded statue, but you swear that from what you can make out of the god’s face, he almost looks like T-

“God, this place is depressing, isn’t it?”

You let out a started shriek and slap a hand to your mouth, whirling around only to see a shadowed figure standing at the entrance of the temple as the echoes of your voice bounce off the stone walls.

“Touya!” You breathe as you let your hand drop. “Don’t do that! Here I am thinking that you forgot about me! Where were you anyways?” Touya only lets out an amused chuckle as he strides towards you, the sound of his boots echoing off the barren walls as he glances around lazily.

“Fuck, what a dump. Doesn’t your town have any priests that serve this temple? Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for years.”

“I… don’t think so.” You mumble as you think about it, suddenly feeling embarrassed, even though you can’t figure out why you do. “I don’t think there’s been any priests or followers dedicated to him in a long time. At least, not in the time that I’ve been alive.”

“You can say his name, Doll. Contrary to what most people think, his name alone won’t cause you to die.”

“Alright…” you swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I can’t remember there being any priests that follow Dabi’s teachings around here. I’ve always found it strange, considering he’s one of the four major deities that we worship here, but everyone seems to be so wary of him for some reason.”

A shudder seems to run through your companion at the mention of the God’s name, but you don’t think much of it before Touya is speaking again. “Figures. No one’s ever told you his legend then, right?”

“There’s an actual story behind him?” You ask, turning back towards the stone stature behind you. “I thought he was just this elusive figure who brought souls to the Underworld to be judged.”

“He does that, but there’s more to him than that. A lot more.”

Touya isn’t looking at you, a quick glance behind you confirms this, and you see him gazing almost wistfully up at the hooded figure, before he catches onto you staring at you and sends you a smirk that almost seems a little forced. “Want me to tell you what really happened to him?”

You nod your head enthusiastically. You love the stories that Touya tells you, and one about the most mysterious God in the pantheon seems like it’d be an interesting one. The scarred man rolls his eyes playfully and gestures to the stone steps in front of you. You dutifully take a seat on one as he follows you down. He’s silent for a moment, staring at his large, scarred hands, seemingly figuring out where to start. After a moment of deliberation, he speaks – voice suddenly very quiet.

“Long ago, there was an… uprising of sorts amongst the gods, that split the entire pantheon into two factions. Some of the lesser-known gods were tired of the way that things were run amongst the divine and the mortals alike, and wanted a change. There was an ancient dark force that aided them and they almost overthrew the old gods that had been ruling for centuries at that time.” He paused before continuing again.

“A small group of fledgling gods – young but powerful, went up against the oldest and strongest gods, forever changing history… Dabi was one of the gods who led the uprising.” Touya huffs, as he glanced upwards towards the hole in the ceiling.

“It was chaos, it was the time that is now known as “the Dark Age”, and the aftermath of the war was brutal for both the gods and mortals alike. Many died during those times, not just humans, but gods as well.”

“How can you kill a God? I thought they were immortal?” You found yourself asking, mystified. Touya only snorts, fidgeting absentmindedly with the piercings in his nose.

“Believe it or not, gods can die too. Sometimes they die on their own, sometimes they die in battle. They’re hard to kill, but it is possible. You have to be a God yourself in order to do it though, or at the very least, a descendant of one, so don’t go thinking you can go murdering divinity now, Princess.”

“Obviously not.” You snort, entertained by the idea. “What happened next?” Touya grimaces openly, and his eyes wander back to the hole in the ceiling – following his gaze, you can see stars twinkling brightly in the inky heavens above you.

“The gods leading the rebellion lost, and the ancient darkness aiding them was destroyed permanently. I think you might know where this story is going.”

You nod, you had heard this story countless times during your childhood. “It’s the legend of The Chosen One – Allmight’s successor, Deku, isn’t it?” the burnt man nods without looking at you.

“The very one.” He reached up to touch the staples in his chin. “They weren’t evil… the gods who rebelled. They just had their own idea of how things should be. They saw flaws in how the old gods were handling things and they decided that enough was enough, so they took a stand.”

You redirect your attention back towards the scarred man, only to see him looking unblinkingly up into the inky abys – almost as if he was lost in a memory. You reach out to touch his hand – the one that isn’t playing with staples in his chin – and he almost flinches before tearing his attention away from the sky to look at your small soft hand, holding his large, calloused one. He squeezes it reassuringly, before continuing on.

“After the fighting, a lot of historical records were lost… many of the records that were destroyed, happened to be about the gods that had started the uprising. After the war, they were all punished severely, and made an example of. Their temples were razed and decimated, and their followers were either executed or exiled. Even years later, the original followers who believed in the teachings of the usurper gods still won’t return to the temples which they once served in fear of retribution, and there still is a lingering stigma around those gods to this very day.” He looks around the derelict temple with a frown pulling slightly on the staples in his cheeks.

“This place is a prime example. Not all the temples dedicated to Dabi were destroyed – many of them were simply abandoned and the followers were driven out. You can’t get rid of all of the temples anyways. Even though he may be feared, he still plays an important roll in death. Without him, there would be no cremation practices and the dead would simply pile up and spill out into the streets. That and you’d have an overflow of souls with nowhere to go if he wasn’t there to guide them to the Underworld. Hell and the mortal world would be pretty fucked up if he wasn’t there to keep the balance.”

“How do you know so much about him?” You ask, enraptured by the way Touya’s voice seems to reverberate off of the walls as he speaks, sounding almost hypnotic.

“Like I said, I travel for my work. You hear about the legends no matter where you go, and some places know more than others. Some re-telling’s are different, some are the same. Some even tell you the legend from a different perspective. None of them are wrong – you just have to piece them together yourself.” Touya hums as he taps a long finger against the step you both were sitting on. “That happens to be my rendition of Dabi’s history, but it’s the closest to the truth that you’re going to get.”

The white-haired man gives you a sideways look. “What do you think of him?”

You lock your gaze with him. “What do I think of who?”

“Dabi. Everyone I’ve ever encountered says different things about him, especially depending on where I’m visiting. I’m curious to see what you think.”

“Oh gods, I don’t think I should speak about him in his own temple, that seems mildly disrespectful.” You mutter, glancing around again, only for Touya chuckle with a shake of his head.

“I think people make him out to be more temperamental than he actually is. He’s not Endeavor – you wanna talk about a god with a notoriously shit temper, it’s him.”

He sounds so certain of himself that it pulls a giggle from your throat and Touya winks at you boyishly. You sigh and look back towards the solitary statue bathed in moonlight. You bite your lip and the word slips out before you can think about it.

“Lonely.”

Touya blinks, looking oddly surprised. “Come again?”

“I think… he’d be lonely.” You respond carefully. “He’s probably got one of the hardest jobs out there and I’m sure that comes with a lot of responsibility… but I feel it be a very solitary job.” You shrug your shoulders helplessly at your companion. “But who am I to say, I’m just a village girl who didn’t know anything about him until you told me. I just think he’d probably get lonely from time to time.”

Toyua doesn’t say anything. He glances between you to your intertwined hands, then looks back at you, and then to the statue behind you on the alter. “Huh.” He mutters, more to himself than anyone else. He runs a hand through his snowy roots and nods. “Yeah, I guess he would be. “

He falls quiet again, and you don’t have anything to say in response. There is something hidden just below the surface of his story – something that he’s not telling you. You feel the implications hanging heavy in the air, but something is telling you not to push him any further, so you don’t. Finally, unable to take the tension in the dusty atmosphere, you stand, dragging Touya up with you.

“Alright, enough of that.” You tell him. “You promised me you’d show me what kind of magic you can do, and I’m holding you to that. What didn’t you want to show me in the glade?”

At your insistence, Touya perks up and a slow, almost maniacal grin spreads across his face. “Oh, that?" he asks with a teasing look in his eyes. “Are you sure you wanna see what I can do? I don’t know if you’d be able to handle it.”

“Oh, please Touya, I’ve known you for how long now? I don’t think there’s anything you can do that would surprise me-“

The words die almost immediately on your lips as Touya extends one large hand towards you, and in the next second it’s engulfed in bright blue fire.

“Oh.. oh wow!” you gasp in delight as you watch him curl his fingers inward, shrinking the blaze down until a small blue fireball rested comfortably in the palm of his hand. “You’re a pyromancer! I’ve heard of people who can control fire, but I’ve never seen anyone wield blue fire before!”

“That’s because I’m the only one who can do it.” The pierced man responds smugly. “Watch.”

He turns back towards the stature and there is a sudden burst of heat that forces you to close your eyes. Once the worst of the heat has rolled through you, you open your eyes only to see that the candle wicks surrounding the Cremation God are all alight with small blue flames, basking the temple walls in an otherworldly glow. The flames are small, only about the size of your fingernail, but exude a surprising amount of heat, chasing the remaining chills you have away.

“Oh, Touya, this is amazing.” You breathe as you pull your attention away from the blue whisps, and back to your friend, “I can’t believe you never showed me that you could do-“

You freeze. There is a faint smell of something burning emanating off of Touya. You glance down at his left arm and you quickly piece two and two together. The seams in his skin, the ones held together by staples, connecting the healthy tissue to the dead, are smoking. A faint trail of foul-smelling steam is hissing from the seam in his forearm – the very one that he had set ablaze to light the candles not a moment ago.

Oh. So that’s how he got the scarring, you think to yourself numbly. You’re unable to pull your gaze away from the steam that’s still bubbling out of his arm, until it finally stops, and he turns his cerulean gaze to you once more.

He knows you see it, he must, because he turns to you with a knowing smirk on his mottled lips, the staples in his face pulling uncomfortably as he gestures at his arms – at his burns. “There’s always a price for power like mine. D’ya get it now, Princess?”

“The burns… they’re self-inflicted.” It’s not a question. Now you know. You know his secret.

“Not intentionally, but yes. They are.” He confirms. He doesn’t sound upset or ashamed. Only reserved.

“Is it some sort of blowback?” you ask him gently as you inch your way closer to him. You’ve heard of people like him, people who wield incredible powers. Some of whom cannot use their powers without it affecting them in some sort of way, whether it be physically or worse.

You never bothered asking Touya about how he’d gotten his gory collection of scars, or why they seemed to be getting progressively worse as time passed. You had been honest with him when you met him for the first time, when you told him that they didn’t bother you, you had meant every word. But now that he’s shown you the truth behind his burns, you can’t help but feel a strange warmth bloom in your chest, along with a touch of sadness.

“You could say that.” He answers finally, toying with the piercings in his ears. “If I use my flames for an extended period of time, it sears my skin. The hotter they are the worse it is. But they’ve been running pretty hot lately and it takes me longer to cool down than it normally does.”

“Why?” You extend your hands outwards to touch his arm, and for a split second, it almost looks like he’s about to pull his arm away from you, but thinks better of it and relinquishes the burnt appendage to you, allowing you to gently caress the hot skin of his arm. Touya shrugs, but you don’t miss how he slowly moves towards your touch.

Inwardly, the white-haired man feels like he’s melting. Your hands feel fucking amazing on his skin, cool and soft, and even though he can’t feel much of anything on the dead parts of his skin, the pressure feels nice.

“Comes with the territory Sweetheart. It’s just the hand I was given, I don’t question it.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Does anyone else know?” you ask, genuinely curious. That causes another one of his grins that you enjoy so much, to slowly spread across his lips.

“Just you and these walls.”

You don’t say anything for a few minutes, thinking of a good way to respond to his admission. Touya frowns at your silence and just as he’s about to ask you if you were alright, you gently trace one of your hands down his arm and lace your fingers together, in a motion that’s become so familiar and comfortable, and just feels so right with him.

You smile up at him. “Thank you for trusting me with this. It means more to me then you know.”

Touya swears he feels his heart, the organ in his chest that he believed to be shrived up and dead, beat in his chest for the first time in a very long time.

How you came to have so much power over him, he’ll never know for sure. He wants to surge forward and capture your lips with his. You, the pretty girl from the village, one of the very few people alive who can seem him… is happy to see him. He wants to take you right here in this temple – show you just how much you mean to him-

But he won’t, he’s not some wild animal (But gods, do you make him wish he was sometimes.)

Instead, he swallows thickly and manages to mutter, “S’nothing, just thought it was time for you to know.”

You give him another one of your pretty smiles and squeeze his hand reassuringly. You both watch as the hot, blue flames eat away at what’s left of the old prayer candles in a comfortable silence. Once they’ve all burnt out, Touya walks you back to your house, making sure to stay close to you. He keeps you warm and protects you from the cold spring winds as you walk together, muttering something under his breath about an idiot with wings all the while.

He watches as you sneak back into your house, miraculously not waking up either of your parents. He only leaves once you open your window on the second floor to wave down at him, and wish him a quiet ‘goodnight’. He gives you a lazy wave in return and pivots on his heel; walking away from your house, away from you, and into the night.

He makes a silent promise to himself to come back to you soon.

-----

It’s now summertime and you are currently at your best friend’s wedding.

You’re in a flowing dark blue dress, clapping along with the rest of the wedding guests as your friend spins gracefully around her new husband. The ceremony was beautiful. It had taken place outside, near Hawks’s shrine so his priests could bless the new couple, and then the newlyweds and the rest of the wedding guests had gone back to the center of town to continue the wedding festivities.

You stifle a laugh as your friend purposely dances past you, and swiftly hands you her bouquet of flowers before her husband pulls her back towards him to continue their dance. You smile down at the arrangement of white and pink wildflowers and absentmindedly pet some of the petals, before you feel eyes drilling into the back of your head.

You don’t need to look up to know that it’s your mother, sitting across from you at the small table you’re seated at, with your father beside her, staring at you pointedly with the bouquet in your hands. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and chuck the gift of flowers several feet away from you in response to her glaring, knowing that she would only reprimand you later when you go home tonight, though inwardly you know she has her reasons for why she’s so frustrated with you:

You’re approaching your mid-twenties, and you’re still not married. You don’t see this as an issue, but your mother does and now the ladies from town are starting to talk openly about it.

In your village, it wasn’t uncommon for girls to be married off as early as eighteen. Typically, that was normally done amongst poorer families and thankfully, you and most of your friends came from wealthier upbringings, so you had the luxury to be a little choosier with your potential suitors. But at the end of the day, you were still a young, desirable woman, who was still expected to marry, and give her husband strong, healthy children.

The thing was, among the men around your age who lived in the village, you didn’t see yourself settling down with any of them. You simply weren’t attracted to them and you had very few things in common with the majority of them.

Many of them were polite and you knew they weren’t bad people by any means, but you just weren’t interested in getting to know them any further then as an acquaintance. Besides, based on the few dates your mother had set up (more so forced you to go on) with several of the men from town over the years, you didn’t want to get to know them any more than what they had shown you.

The worst of the bunch had acted like a perfect gentleman in front of your parents, but the moment he had you alone, he had revealed that he simply wanted a perfect little housewife. One who didn’t have any opinions of her own and who never left the house. He wanted a wife who was submissive and had plenty of his children without question. Somehow, he thought you were the perfect candidate.

You had remembered leaving the date early and all but running home, feeling a mixture of panic and disgust, snapping at your mother as soon as you got home that you never wanted to see that particular man again and to not fix anymore dates for you. Thankfully, that had been one of the few times she had listened, and it had been the end of the courtship dates for a while.

Men still asked for you, you couldn’t stop them from doing that, but at least you weren’t currently being pressured into going on any more dates with them. Some of your would-be suitors were too persistent for their own good. The inn-keeper’s son and the blacksmith’s son were the worst culprits. At least the inn-keeper’s son was sweet, if not totally clueless, but the blacksmith’s son…

Ugh. You didn’t want to ruin your night thinking about him. Especially not after he ‘accidently’ groped you during some of the earlier dancing tonight. Twice.

Pulling your thoughts away from the other man, you glance around the nearby tables, looking at the single men sitting at them and shake your head.

You knew it wasn’t fair, but you couldn’t help but compare the men in town to Touya. While he could still be crass with his comments, he never had any malicious intent behind them. He had taken the time to get to know you and listened to your interests, meanwhile the men you had briefly been forced to court only seemed to want to get to know you on a surface level.

You knew that it was foolish, harboring feelings for the pyromancer, a man that as far as you knew, only you could see. But it was so hard, when he was the only one who seemed to enjoy you as you – all of your strange little quirks and all of your hopes and dreams.

He listened to them all and responded in his own way. Recently, whenever he had to leave, you had been finding it harder to bite your tongue to keep from asking him to take you with him-

Almost as if he could read your mind, you feel a new pair of eyes on you. They were chilling but oddly warm at the same time, causing your body to erupt into goosebumps, as you slowly turned in the direction where you felt them on you.

Sure enough, Touya is there, standing a few feet behind you, partially concealed behind a nearby building. The moment your eyes lock, he sends you a smirk, and crooks a finger at you in a ‘come hither’ motion.

You feel your heart race in your chest, and you have to fight down the smile you feel tugging at your lips. You stand slowly and tell your parents that you have to run home to use the bathroom and before they can get another word out, you’re all but running towards the burnt man.

The second you’re in arms reach, he takes you by the hand and pulls you along with him. You don’t ask where you’re going, you know that he’s taking you back to your spot together in the woods, the one place where you feel like you can truly be yourself.

“I’ve been wondering when you were going to come back!” you tell him with a giggle as you both reach the edge of the forest. “Here I was thinking you forgot about me!”

Touya snorts at your antics and rolls his eyes. “Please. Forget about you? I don’t think so.”

“So, let me guess: you’re back here for work again?”

A fond look passes over Touya’s face, but he blinks and it’s gone in the next second. “Not this time. Actually, I’m here to see you specifically.”

That’s a new one. Normally when Touya comes to see you, it’s because his work brings him to town and he comes to visit you afterwards. He’s never come just for you – at least, not that you know of. You know it shouldn’t, but his confession makes your heart speed up.

“Really now?” you tease him lightly as he leads you deeper into the underbrush. “What makes this time so special?”

“I wanted to see what your town normally looks like during a festivity. You’ve always told me I should visit outside of a grieving period, so here I am.” His cerulean eyes find yours and he nods at your dress. “I won’t lie, I wanted to see what you looked like outside of those dark funeral clothes the town forces you to wear… you look beautiful.”

You don’t bother to hide the bright red flush you know is dancing across the tops of your cheeks. This is the first time he’s ever been so forward with you aside from the comfortable hand holding that you’ve become accustomed to over the years, and you find yourself rendered speechless.

You can’t hold his gaze anymore and choose to look down at your dress as the dark blue fabric swishes around your legs as you walk, as you force out a meek word of thanks, feeling his large hand squeeze your own in response.

Your companion pulls back the branches that cover the opening to the clearing and lets you step through first, following behind you as he lets the leafy coverings drop behind him, and follows you to your usual spot by the pond. You let your dress flare out around you as Touya drops to the grassy floor beside you with a shit-eating grin pulling at the staples in his face. “If I had known that all it takes for you to blush like that for me was to give you one little complement, I would have done it more ages ago, Sweetheart.”

“Stop it, don’t tease me.” You wave him off, only for him to bark out a laugh.

“Wasn’t teasing you at all, I’m serious, you look beautiful.” He tells you honestly, as he reaches over the toy with the end of your dress. “Blue is a good colour on you. It’s my favourite.”

“Yes, well, I… thank you.” You sputter out, completely at a loss for words. This interaction with him was different from the ones that came before. He had never been this forward with you. There was something different about the last couple times you’ve seen him. Something was changing between you both. At first, you thought that you were simply overthinking it, but now you don’t think that you are.

“So,” Touya’s slow drawl snapped you out of your thoughts. “That was what a wedding in your village looks like, huh? It’s… nice.”

You nod, smiling as you think about your friend in her pretty white gown. “It was my friend’s.” you tell him, as you reach down to slide off your shoes, massaging your feet. “She passed me her bouquet.”

“I saw. Why was your mother glaring daggers into the back of your head?”

“Oh, you saw that did you?” You sigh as you wrap your arms around you knees, pulling them towards you. “See, out of all my childhood friends, I’m the last to get married. My mother seems to think I’ll end up as an old crone if I don’t get engaged and married soon, but… I don’t really want to get married. At least, not to any of the men my age from my village.”

Touya is quiet as you talk, his face oddly passive as he stares out into the reflection of the sunset sinking into the pond, but you know he’s listening from the way his torso is slightly turned towards you.

“What’s wrong with them?” he rumbles quietly. You shrug.

“Most of them are fine… but some of the ones that my mother has tried to set me up with have been awful. I could never be with them. I don’t want to be with them.” you find yourself rambling, but now that you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop.

“They want some subservient house wife, but I don’t want that. I don’t want to be reduced to nothing more than a womb that gives them children whenever they want. I want more out of life than that. I want to leave this village at some point and see the world like you do. I wish… I wish-“

You feel a tear threaten to roll down your face before you can stop it. “I wish I could go with you.” You tell him in a voice so small that you barely hear it yourself, so you’re surprised when you hear him sigh, and wrap a warm, strong arm around you; pulling you close to him so that you’re practically in-between his legs.

You fist your hands in his cloak and bury your head into his chest, as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He’s humming low in the back of his throat, and you faintly recall hearing the melody from somewhere long ago. The raspy tune does stop the tears from welling up in your eyes however, and you feel a deep sense of gratitude towards the scared man.

“Everyone walks with me at some point.” You hear him murmur into your hair, like he’s telling you a secret. “One day, you will too, but not for a while. I’m sorry.”

You don’t bother asking him what he means. You stay wrapped up in his arms for a long time as you try to calm down. Touya doesn’t loosen his grip on you and keeps you pressed to him. He’s always been warmer than the average person, and you find that heat soothing, as it soaks through his cloak and into your skin.

Finally, after a while, he speaks, keeping his voice low and controlled. “You know… if you need me… all you need to do is call for me, and I’ll come to you.”

“What?” you ask as you lift your head from its spot on his chest.

He repeats himself again. “If you ever need me. If you’re in trouble or you just want to see me, all you need to do is say my name and I’ll come for you. It doesn’t matter where I am. I promise, if you call, I’ll come.”

“Even if you’re halfway across the country?” you ask.

He nods. “Anywhere.”

“How?”

He smiles at you, the purple scaring beneath his eyes and the burns creeping up the unmarred parts of his cheeks, touching at the action. “Like you’ve always said: magic.”

“Don’t tease me.” You beg him and he shakes his head.

“No tricks Sweetheart. I can do more magic than just my fire, but I think you figured that out a long time ago.”

It’s true, you always assumed that he had more tricks up his sleeve then what he let on, but nothing quite like this.

Just what exactly was he… who was he really?

“Could you always do that? All this time, if I really wanted to… could I have just called for you, and you would’ve shown up?” you murmur, causing him to look away towards the pond.

“Yes.” He confirms.

“Then why did you never tell me until this moment?” you hum gently, reaching up to cup one side of his face. He lets you turn his face without any resistance so he’s looking down at you again.

He gently covers your hand with his own as he responds quietly, “Because I’m not supposed to tell you, and you’re not supposed to know.”

“Are you going to get into trouble with someone?” you ask, almost fearful. You still don’t know what he does for work or who employs him, and the last thing you want is for him to get into trouble with one of his superiors. If they’re anything like him, then they’re probably powerful people in their own right

“No.” Touya dispels your worries with a shake of his head. “We’ll just keep this between us. It’s not like they can do anything about it anyways. I’m… untouchable in my line of work. They need me more then I need them.”

You realize that you’re still holding one side of his face and his own hand is still covering your own, keeping it there. There is something unreadable in his eyes, and you have the sudden urge to be as close to him as you can be.

What you’re about to do is dangerous, you know that if you do what you want to do, things will never go back to the way that they are currently, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You want him, you want him more than you have ever wanted anyone.

You tuck your knees under you and straighten your back, bringing your other hand to his marred cheek so you are gently cradling his face. He doesn’t say anything as you swallow thickly, running your thumbs across the staples in his flesh – feeling the difference between the heat raising off his skin and the chill of his staples. He keeps his piercing eyes trained on you at all times, watching the subtle changes in your face, as you struggle to voice what you want.

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur softly, afraid to raise your voice any more in fear of it giving out on you. Touya’s eyes darken and he nods, bringing his free hand up to slowly wrap around the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his own.

He stops just short of his lips and you feel him brush the back of your neck with his thumb. “Are you sure?” he asks you, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your lips. That’s all the motivation you need. You push yourself forward, and capture his lips with your own.

The contrast between both textures of his upper and lower lip is interesting but not unpleasant. His upper lip is soft while his lower lip is rough and chapped from the scarring, but it creates a unique sensation as it brushes against your own lips. You let a small moan escape you, and the reaction from Touya is instant. He releases your hand holding his cheek, and loops his free arm around your waist, drawing you even closer to him as your hand drops from his face and rests on his chest. He pulls you in further by the hand holding onto the back of your neck, and slots his lips against yours. You feel his tongue gently trace along your lower lip and you part your lips for him without a second thought, allowing the wet muscle in to trace your own, and you let out an involuntary whimper, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

He pulls back all too soon, leaving you breathless. Nether of you say anything. You don’t know what to say. What happens now? What are you to each other? You’re not sure anymore.

Touya must sense your inner turmoil, because he rubs your cheek with the back of his knuckles and draws you in close to him, holding you there for a while, as you feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“…I can’t stay.” He admits quietly. “Honestly, I wasn’t supposed to come here at all, but I wanted to see you. I’m glad I did.”

“Me too.” You whisper. “Will you come back?”

He laughs and gives you a small squeeze. “For you, always. I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. Good, he wasn’t leaving permanently, not like some men who take off after getting what they want.

You immediately feel bad after thinking that. Touya has never once acted like that in the time you’ve known each other. He’s never given you a reason to think otherwise.

He pulls you back a little, only to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, as he holds your chin between his thumb and index fingers. “I’m going to be gone for a little while. But if you need me, all you have to do is call for me, and I will be there.”

“You swear?” you breathe, as you watch the final rays from the sinking sunset catch the piercings in his ears, making them glow as if they were molten chips.

“I swear.” He promises you, and then he’s dipping back in to capture your lips once more.

When you do eventually part, this time is harder than the other times that came before. Night has fallen once you’ve made your way out of the clearing, and Toyua makes sure that you get back to your house safely, but he doesn’t come any further than the tree-line.

When you turn to him, he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles and then another lingering one to your lips that has you closing your eyes. Before you can open them again to ask him when he’ll be back, he’s gone.

You do end up using his name not a month after your friend’s wedding.

You’re sprinting through the underbrush in the forest, your parents’ frantic calls of your name fading behind you.

The only thing on your mind is to get as far away from your house as possible.

She did it. Your mother did what she had been threatening to do if you didn’t find a partner by yourself: she would find one for you.

and gods help you, she picked the worst one she possibly could.

The Blacksmith’s son was a pig, to put it mildly. His family was well off, which you know is why your mother agreed to fix your engagement with him, as you certainly wouldn’t starve if you were wed to him, but there were several reasons why he was a few years older than you, and unwed:

He had a notorious reputation as a violent drunk, and unfortunately his temperament wasn’t much better when he was sober. You would know. The few times you’ve spoken to him while shopping in town has made you want to go home and forget that it even happened.

Worst of all, he unfortunately shared a lot of similar opinions to your last potential suitor: women were to stay at home and were not to be heard. Your thoughts, your hopes and dreams for the future; they all meant nothing to him.

You screamed bloody murder at your mother when she dropped the news on you after you had come home from visiting a friend. According to her, he had been asking about you for quite some time, and she and your father had finally agreed to give him your hand after months of him asking for it.

“Why him?” You screeched at her, nearly pulling out your hair as you desperately tried to keep your tears at bay. “You know what he’s like, you must! Why would you do this to me? Why would you set me up with him knowing what kind of a person he is?!”

“Because there is no one else!” your mother roared back at you. “You left it too long! Out of all your potential candidates, he was the only one that your father and I knew could provide a comfortable life for you – there was no one else good enough for you! You are our only daughter, our only child! I will not let you become a spinster! Who will look after you once we’re gone?”

‘Not him!” You screamed as the tears you’d desperately been holding in, came pouring out. Your father at least had the decency to look mildly ashamed as you broke down into sobs, but it still hurts, knowing that he had the final say in your betrothal.

You bolted from the house, making a beeline for the forest, ignoring your parents as they called for you to come back, but you couldn’t face them. Not after this.

You burst into the clearing and fall to your knees at the side of the pond. You don’t know what to do, you feel like you can barely breathe, and you know there is no one who can help you-

Suddenly you think of Touya, how sincere he had been when he held your face in his hands, and told you, that if you ever needed him, all you had to do was call for him.

You don’t even know if it will work, and if he’ll hear you, but at this point you don’t care.

“Touya!” you scream across the stillness of the pond. “Touya! Touya! Tou-“

There is a sudden blast of heat a few feet away from you, and you have to bring your arms up to protect your eyes from the searing air. Once the worse of the heat has faded, you lower your arms, only to gasp at what you’re seeing:

Touya is standing before you. The ground beneath him is scorched. The long grass completely burned down to nothing around him, and there are residual blue flames clinging to his cloak. You don’t know how, but he’s here. Just like he promised you he would be.

“I’m here Doll, I’m here, what’s wrong?” He stops short as he notices that your cheeks are wet and shining, and his eyes narrow dangerously. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

“I-I—” you choke, as more tears pour down your cheeks. Now that he’s here, how can you possibly tell him? What do you even say?

“Please help me Touya, I don’t know what to do.” You manage to get out after a moment, before a fresh wave of sobs roll over you. Touya immediately crouches down to your level, and holds your face in his large, rough ones.

“What happened?” he presses you. “Tell me everything. What’s gotten you so upset?”

“She- my mother- she-“ your chest heaves, and a fresh wave of sobs rips its way out of you. Touya doesn’t say anything, silently wiping away your tears with his abnormally warm thumbs. You find yourself leaning into the warmth, and he holds you there, as your breathing calms down. Once you feel like you’ll be able to speak without crying, you avert your eyes away from his, knowing that you can’t look at him when you tell him the reason why you’re so upset.

“I’m engaged.”

Touya’s breath hitches and his thumbs stop their soothing movements. He falls deathly silent, and you risk sneaking a glance at him, only for your heart to drop upon seeing his face.

His devastatingly handsome patchwork face has a range of different emotions strewn across it, ones that he’s not bothering to hide from you.

Rage, confusion, disappointment, and-

“To who?” he asks so softly you almost miss it.

“The blacksmith’s son…” you murmur back. “I don’t want to!" You feel another sob well up in your throat. “He’s vile! He’s condescending and drinks too much… All I am to him is a way to move up in our village. He doesn’t care about me at all. He’ll force me to have his children and I can’t-“

You feel yourself break again. You reach up to cover his hands with your own. “Please Touya.” You whisper. “Please, I’m begging you. Take me with you. I don’t care what you are, or what it is that you do. I can’t marry him. I won’t. I don’t care what my parents want. I don’t care if he can provide me with a comfortable lifestyle. I don’t care where we go. Anywhere would be better than being forced into marriage with him.”

Touya looks conflicted – pained even – and his fingers twitch where they’re resting on your skin. He leans in closer to you and you feel his breath ghost over you lips. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you again, but he simply holds you at eye-level.

“…I can’t take you with me… not right now.” he tells you honestly. You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “One day I will, I promise you I will, but I can’t right now.” he pauses and a dark look enters his cerulean blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”

You blink back the tears that you feel forming in the corners of your eyes. “Yes… why?”

“I can do something about the… situation you’re in.” His thumbs brush your cheeks gently. “But only if you trust me.”

“I do.” Your voice is steady. “Of course, I do, but Touya… what do you mean? What are you planning to do?”

But Touya isn’t looking at you anymore, his focus is shifted to the still water in the pond. “It’ll be early, too early, but that’s fine, they can handle one early arrival.” He’s muttering to himself, before he shifts his attention back to you and kisses your forehead briefly, before abruptly standing up and backing away from you.

“Go to Dabi’s temple and wait for me there. I’ll meet you there later. The temple is considered sanctuary, no one will bother you there.” He tells you sternly, as he reaches the burnt circle where he reappeared earlier. “I’ll handle this, don’t worry Doll.”

Before you can ask him what he plans to do, a brilliant burst of blue flames erupt around him, engulfing him in unforgiving heat, before disappearing as quickly as they appeared. You blink, and Touya is gone.

Dusk has fallen by the time you’ve made your way to the ruined temple.

You took the long way to Dabi’s temple, opting to use one of the multiple forest trails to reach your destination instead of going through town. No doubt that your parents are searching for you, and probably have other members of the village looking for you as well, possibly even your soon to be husband-

No, you don’t even want to think about him. You’re not sure what Touya plans to do once he finds him, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. You’re so tired, all you want to do is sit and rest.

It’s that thought that makes you pull on one of the doors – finding it unlocked again – and slip inside, closing it gently behind you. Much like last time, the temple is unseasonably warm, though that may have something to do with the hole that is still in the ceiling above the statue of the death god, allowing the warm, summer air to seep in.

You slowly make your way towards the massive white statue and bow your head. “Forgive me for intruding. I’m just here to rest, I’ll be on my way soon.”

You hope that your actions aren’t seen as disrespectful as you take a seat on the long stone steps in front of the alter. Hopefully Touya won’t be long with whatever he’s doing. A part of you still can’t believe that he had been completely serious, and that he come to you – just by you calling out his name. You knew he had powers, but even then, this was unexpected.

Just what exactly was he? Who was he?

Suddenly, you feel tired, more tired than you were before stepping into the temple. Your eyelids are drooping, and your body feels heavy. You have just enough time to shift yourself into a more comfortable position, lying down at the foot of Dabi’s statue, before the fatigue overcomes you.

The last thing you remember is staring up at the hidden face of the Cremation God, and closing your eyes, as you fall into a dreamless sleep.

You wake again to the sound of the temple doors being swung open.

You blink away sleep out of your eyes, and force yourself into a sitting position, as you squint at the figure illuminated by moonlight in the entrance.

For a moment, you’re scared that it’s one of the townspeople, but then the moonlight reflects off of the shadowed figure’s shockingly white hair, and you allow yourself to relax.

“Touya?” you call out gently, voice scratchy from a lack of use.

“Just me.” The low timber of his voice answers you as he closes the doors behind him, plunging the room into darkness again. You can’t see anything, but you hear the heavy clunking of his boots making their way towards where you’re seated in front of the statue.

That’s when the smell hits you.

The distinct smell of ash and smoke, with the faint undertone of something rancid burning, invades your nose. It takes you a second to figure out what the awful smell is, and when you’re finally able to place it, you wish that you hadn’t.

It’s the same smell from before, when you first came to the temple with Touya, and he revealed his affinity with fire to you – when he let you in on his secret. When he told you the reason behind his scars.

There is a sizzling sound, and a small blue flame lights up in front of your face. Touya is kneeling in front of you. A small wick of flame is concentrated in the palm of his hand, illuminating both of your faces, and oh gods, his face-

The burns are worse than they were when he left. The deep, purple burns underneath his eyes and the ones on his jaw, now run past his staples, and are touching, finally connecting them together. His face is more dead skin than healthy, and you feel your eyes water involuntarily.

Touya notices too, as he brings the hand not holding the open flame, to your eyes to wipe at them. “What’s wrong?” he rumbles. “What’s with the tears?”

“What happened?” you croak as you reach up to hesitantly touch the fresh burns. ‘It wasn’t like this when you left.”

Confusion flitters across his face for a moment, before his eyes widen in realization, and he jerks his face away from your hands, extinguishing the small ball of fire as he does so – though really, all he wants to do is let your gentle hands caress his face, care for his wounds, but he doesn’t want to worry you anymore then you already are.

“It’s nothing.” He mutters. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not nothing, and it’s not fine.” You say sternly as you pull him back towards you by his cloak. “What happened? Please tell me?”

“Remember I told you that there’s a price if I use my fire for too long?” you nod, and he taps the new patches of burns, before snapping his fingers, and a few wicks on the remaining prayer candles at the base of the statue light up around you. “Well, that’s it. Seriously, don’t worry about it. “

“You mean to tell me you used your fire for too long? What where you doing out-“

Your blood runs cold, and you peer back into his azure eyes. “What did you do?”

He only shakes his head, avoiding your question. “I need you to promise me right now, that you will never ask me about it. Trust me”

“Touya, you didn’t-“

“Sweetheart please. I’m serious. I can’t tell you what happened. All you need to know is that he’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

The implication hangs heavy in the stagnant air, and you fall silent, not breaking eye contact with him.

This man, this being has done something unspeakable in your name, for you, to protect you. You know that you should be pushing him away, trying desperately to get away yourself… but you don’t. This is Touya, your Touya, and you know that he would never hurt you. Certainly not intentionally.

“You… you did this for me? Why?” you whisper. Touya lets out a small chuckle as he slowly places his hands on your knees. You can feel how hot his palms are through your skirts.

“You know why.” He murmurs, as he slowly closes the gap between your faces, and you do.

This man… loves you. When he looked at you earlier, the last emotion that you had seen in his eyes… had been adoration.

He loves you, Touya loves you so much that he can’t even vocalize it. You’ll never know how much you mean to him, you can’t, because you still have so much time here, and he… he is bound by his duty. He can’t stay here with you in the village, and he knows it’s not fair to you to ask you to wait for him, but gods help him; he can’t see you wed anyone else. He can’t. Especially not the low-life that your parents had engaged you to.

He feels the tell-tale signs of rage creeping up on him, so he quickly closes the remaining space between your faces, and presses his rough lips to yours once more – catching your gasp in is mouth.

You wrap your arms around his neck – being mindful of the heavy scarring – pulling him closer to deepen the kiss as your eyes slide shut. He tastes like how ash smells, and any other time, it would have made you cringe, but it suits Touya; and you can’t bring yourself to care as he swipes his tongue along your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you grant to him.

He kisses you deep and hard, trying to convey to you all the things that he wants to say to you, but can’t vocalize. You whimper involuntarily, as he bites down on your lip, and you feel him smirk into the kiss.

You only pull away when air becomes too much of a necessity. Touya doesn’t let you go far, keeping a hand on the back of your neck to keep your face close to his. You reach up to touch the fresh burns on his face, and this time he lets you. You smooth your thumbs over the newest patches of burnt skin on either side of his face, and lean in to kiss them. You hear his breathing hitch, and you swear you see something red trickle down the sides of his face, before he quickly brushes it away.

He pulls you back after a moment to study your face, and gives you a lopsided smile. “Let’s get you back home. Your foolish parents are probably losing their minds wondering where you’ve gone, and half the town is out looking for you.”

He makes a move to stand up, but you take his hands in yours and pull him back down, shaking your head. “No, please, not yet, I’m not ready to go home yet.”

Touya looks like he wants to say something more, but decides against it, and sits back down beside you, pulling your legs over his. He wraps an arm around you and tucks you in close to him. You both fall silent, and you watch as the tiny blue flames around you cast disjointed shadows up along the walls. You close your eyes, and rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart in his chest.

“I love you.” You tell him in a voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t say it back, but the arm around you squeezes you so tightly that it almost hurts.

You wish that you could stay with him forever.

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #tw: death #mha dabi #mha #bnha #rose reblogs #please let me know if i missed any tags!#please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings!

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definitelynotshouting · 2 years ago

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Hey guys who wants a hunger au scene?? :]

My friend @corvidaearts was so cool and kind enough to draw a comic for the hunger au fic, so i thought i would post the actual scene in question to provide a little context for it. Thank you so much, Crow, i am truly bananas over the comic you did for this holy shit, PLEASE go check it out on their account, and i hope you guys enjoy this little nugget of the fic!!!

cws for: suicidal ideation, past suicide attempt, starvation, themes of disordered eating. Be safe!!

"I think," Grian says, slowly, wearily, "you've made a mistake."

Xisuma winces; the motion is sharp and jarring without his helmet as a barrier between them. "I know," he says, and there's a layer of shame and heavy regret running over the words. "I… I hear that. I wasn't thinking with my head when we– when I kicked you. It was all–" he makes a nebulous gesture in the air between them, before letting his arm fall again– "such a big mess, it got away from me." His lips tilt up in a wry smile. "Like it always tends to."

"No, no– not that." Grian sighs, does his best to ignore the band cinching tight around his chest. His eyes flutter shut, just for a moment; the echoes of Mumbo's urgent voice still plead with him to keep them open. "You made a– kicking me was for the best." He lifts tired lashes again, staring Xisuma down with as much conviction as he can muster. "But you should've just killed me when you had the chance. I was trying to help you."

The words drop from his mouth like beads of glass, shattering as they hit the floor. For a single, frozen eternity, Xisuma stares at him with uncomprehending eyes.

Then the world begins to spin again, and Xisuma physically recoils.

"Grian," he breathes, "You can't actually mean that. And– help us? What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm dangerous when I'm like this." Bitterness drips from Grian's voice before he can stop it– thick and viscous, painting the air in broad strokes. "Every time I pulled people into those games, it was because I was hungry. And people– people got hurt for it. People died over it, and they were tricked into thinking it'd be permanent–" he breaks off; his breath is beginning to come fast, chest expanding and contracting in a rapid cycle. "I did that," he finishes, and it's a punch to the gut, a breathless admission that shrouds the air over them. "I shouldn't be– I can't let myself ever do that again, X. I can't be trusted."

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needleanddead · 3 months ago

Note

I always love when you post, it's such a delight! You're one of the few blogs I actually have notifications on for. (:

That one ask from anon intrigued me, though. So, Lucas wouldn't ever bring his captive to the hospital unless he thinks they are dying but then.... what happens after? After they potentially had surgery? Would he let them recover in the hospital or would he be insistent on bringing them back home? What if the doctors can't let them go because they need to check in with them every day because of the severity of the surgery? Would Lucas then stay at the hospital to watch over them aka make sure they keep their mouth shut?

And most important of all: would Lucas learn his lesson? That he does have to bring his captive - if they do have reoccurring health problems - to a doctor very few months so they wouldn't need surgery again? (I highly doubt it, though.)

I apologize if all these questions might be annoying but it's such a fascinating concept!

Ahh hello beloved anon! That is so nice. I am sorry that I post so much nonsense in between actual content. And you are not annoying at all I LOVE talking about my OCs and it makes me so excited other people read about them!!! ;w;

If his darling is quite thoroughly Stockholmed, if they truly believe the things Lucas says to them and he knows they can be trusted - they're allowed to stay in hospital for a little bit. He's still there every single moment, of course - but he's willing to give them the tiniest bit of slack on the chain. If they haltingly ask him for grapes he's leaving to buy them, immediately. He listens to everything the doctors say with a chilling intensity.

Of course, if they've been as thoroughly Stockholmed as he would like, they're desperate to get home too. The doctors are nice, but they've bought into what Lucas says about humans being rotten to the core, and they can't help being on edge. They get Lucas to help sign them out, probably sooner than they really should.

If they're not, if he's brought them in because the only other option was 'death' and he's had to jump through hoops - he's not leaving them for a fucking second. Hard enough to stop him from being in the surgery room, the moment they're out he's by their side trying to comfort and hush and remind them that they're on thin fucking ice. He's sleeping on the floor if he has to. The closest hospital is very small and Lucas is a recognisable and fairly respected figure in town (a veteran, after all!) so he gets away with a lot of shit that in bigger hospitals or for other people would be an absolute 'no'.

And no. He doesn't learn his lesson. He's stubborn; he thinks of it as one little blip. While he was in the hospital he listened to as much as he could about their condition, he memorised things to check for, made a mental list of supplies he's going to need to get just in case it happens again . . . so. Good luck.

#🦇 pip squeaks #lucas tag

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la-squadra1234 · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! I’ve got a request that’s been on my mind for a while “the spider’s child befriending gon and Killua on accident”

THIS^^^^^^^

I already know I am going to enjoy this one like a lot. I mean don’t get me wrong. I enjoy all of them, but this one is going to be good!!!!

And of course I can do it

Full credit to la-squadra1234

Feitan-

He would definitely be confused at first wondering why the kids are around his child and he would immediately get into attack mode. No questions asked, but then when his child explained to him that it’s OK he gets really pissed off and salty, but he just keeps everything to himself, not wanting his child to know what happened and he was hoping that gon and killua would also keep their mouth shut about it

Phinks-

He honestly didn’t really mind killua too much, but gon on the other hand, he hated gon and he still does. He, of course has to use the oldest trick in the book and says to his child that he thinks they are a bad influence on them and to stop hanging around them otherwise it would affect their grades and so on and they would be in trouble but he’s not only doing it for himself. He’s also doing it for the rest of the phantom troupe.

Chrollo-

He would definitely be taken aback He wouldn’t really say anything to gon and killua besides just giving them a glare sometimes he would definitely keep an eye on his child a lot more often than usual, but he known that his child would not think of anything he didn’t have a excuse for his child to stop being friends with them, so he just kept everything to himself but he did tell the phantom troupe about it and told them to keep an eye on his child along with the kids as well

Nobunaga-

He would act like he doesn’t know the kids, but he would still be friendly as usual even after everything that happened he would make sure not to tell the phantom troupe he doesn’t want to betray chrollo and his trust but nothing bad is going on, and he also doesn’t want to take friends away from his child as it’s hard to make friends, and it’s even harder to keep them, and he has learned that along the way of being a thug😝

Franklin-

He would definitely tell his child or make it known that he knows who the kids are, but he would keep the rest of the story to himself, and he would tell killua and gon to politely do the same as he doesn’t need his kid finding out that much at such a young age even though he started doing bad things at a young age, he wants to be a good influence on his child and he wants good kids to be influencing his child😗

Hisoka-

This man would be stunned, absolutely shocked that his child would be friends with them I mean he understands killua but GON He was a bit irritated and annoyed, but he would just keep his mouth shut, but he would know that his child would definitely find out about everything so he tried to keep as much distance as possible from his child even though it sounds really shitty to do. He had to do it for himself the phantom troupe and his child he didn’t want the questions.

That’s it for today!!! I hope everybody enjoyed as much as I did making it. It was honestly very enjoyable and I enjoyed every piece of it and it didn’t take too much to think about at all which I can always appreciate!

I will see everybody in the next Post bye now!

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deleahtarte · 4 months ago

Text

Because He’s Kenny [ Prologue ]

Pairing: Kenny / Butters - Marjorine

Content: Alt Universe - College, Aged up characters, Implied sexual content, friends to lovers

Summary: When your boyfriend can’t get it right, you can trust your childhood best friend to.

Note: To everyone who follows me on tumblr, thank you!! Please consider this as my service to you. This is a PROLOGUE, therefore not the finished fic! It’s supposed to be porn with plot and what we talked about when I did that poll with Marjorine. I’ll post the finished fic on ao3 officially, but everyone here deserves the first look. You guys mean the world to me and I hope I show that enough

Photo Creds: Alai Ganuza

“Are you feeling it?”

“Um…I’m feeling something.” As in a dull, consistent ache.

Creed sighed in frustration, making Marj’s mood drop, too. He tries moving his finger in a figure eight motion, just like what they read about, but that actually made it worse instead of better. “How about now?”

“No…”

With a loud groan that makes Marj jump, Creed reappears from between her legs with furrowed eyebrows. His whole face is practically scrunched up into an expression that could only be described as fed up. “Marj, darling, I think this is useless.”

She closes her legs, pushes herself up by her elbows. “R-Really?”

“Yes,” Creed rolled his eyes. It’s something he does very often at the slightest inconvenience. “why do you want to do this anyways? It’s not like I’m getting pleasure from it. This is just for you. And weren’t you the one telling me that sex should be good for both parties?”

Yes, she did tell him that—but only after Kenny told her that Creed shouldn’t be using her like a sex doll while giving her nothing in return. And she agreed. She got tired of opening her legs for him whenever he wanted and having to go to the bathroom to finish the job herself. It made her feel…like a toy.

“Well, yes, but—“

“But? There’s a but? So you’re a hypocrite.” Creed snapped. “Listen, I really don’t think I need to learn how to eat you out if I’m the one doing all the work when we actually fuck. You lay there like a dead fish and take it, meanwhile I’m tried the morning after because I always have to do every-single-fucking thing! How is that fair?”

Stunned silent, it takes Marj a moment to process what Creed said. He can be mean, borderline cruel even, but it's not often raised his voice with Marjorine.

Seeing her reaction, Creed sighed once again. He didn’t look any less annoyed. “Marj, I…I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

The damage was done nevertheless. Marj stands up, fixes her skirt, and rushes for her bag. Being around Creed when he’s like this is never a good idea. He’s the type of person to feel the highest when he’s high, and to be at rock bottom when he’s low. There’s never an in between. No happy medium.

“Are you seriously mad?” He asked when she makes her way to the door. “I already said I was sorry.”

“We’ll talk later. Preferably when ya aren’t bein’ unnecessarily mean.” As soon as those words left her mouth, she squares her shoulders in pride. Not being afraid of fights is something Kenny also taught her. And even though she is terrified, she can have those bouts of moments where she pretended otherwise.

The door to Creed’s dorm clicks shut behind her. In a matter of hours, Marjorine is sure her phone will start blowing up with apology texts, all which she’s heard and seen before.

The breeze is especially cold tonight. Creed and her had been trying for hours, but it’s just starting to dawn on her how long it’s actually been since they first began their…lesson.

Well, if it could even be called that. It’s hard to learn something when there’s no teacher present. Marj knew how to make her body work just as much as Creed did, which is not at all.

But she knows someone who does…

Her feet naturally takes her to his home, almost instinctively. She bypasses the closed shops and avoids the streets Kenny tells her is dangerous, all the while making sure to keep watch and listen for man made sounds. She owned a mace that went with her everywhere, a Fox Labs one that she knew like the back of her hand. Marjorine first learned how to use it when she was 12 years old and Kenny got worried that, ‘a cute girl like her’ would be targeted by bad people, especially men. So they practiced and practiced until the art of pulling the spray out and aiming became flawless.

Soon enough, Kenny’s apartment comes into view. It’s not on the safest side of town, and a little far from their college, but it was cheap and right within Kenny’s budget. He split rent with his roommate who interned at the hospital, so most of the time, Kenny had the place to himself. Marjorine hoped this was one of those nights.

The elevator dinged to signal her arrival. She steps out onto the 8th floor, stands in front of room 202, and gently knocks on it. Kenny was a late sleeper and an early riser, (none of which he wanted to be), so she doubted he was in bed right now.

A minute later, the door swings open—Marj’s face drops at who she sees.

“Ugh, seriously. You again?” Bernie Kaplan rolled her to the back of her skull, reminding Marjorine of Creed. “Will you ever stop?”

“Heya, Bernie.” Marjorine flashes her best smile, hoping it would ease the lines of irritation on Bernie’s face. “Is Kenny here?”

“It’s Bernadette to you, Majorine. And of course he is. This is his place.”

Bernadette Kaplan is the president of Chi Omega, in the Fellowship Committee, and known to be the most wanted girl at their college. None of that mattered to Marjorine though, because in the end, she only knew Bernie as one thing—Kenny’s girlfriend.

“Can I talk to him?”

“About what?” She asked with gritted teeth.

“Um, well gee, that’s priv—“

From above, a jacket is thrown over the top of Bernie’s head. She scrambles to get it off and turns around, facing— “Bern, don’t answer the door in just your underwear. That shits dangerous.”

Kenny is standing there, every ounce of him wet from the shower. He has a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and a small one hanging around his neck. Marjorine quickly adverts her eyes even though she’s seen this sight a millions times before, and a lot more.

“How about you stop answering the door in just a towel?” She pushed him slightly back as he laughed. Kenny, ever the gentlemen, helps her put his jacket on. It successfully covers her lacey bra that she greeted Marjorine with.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Kenny eyed Marjorine’s disheveled dress. “Something wrong?”

“No, why, I just wanted to talk.” Marjorine meets Bernie in the eyes, sees the fire in them, and quickly adds, “If you have the time.”

“Course’ I do,” Kenny replied easily. He pats Bernie on the back. “Bern was just about to leave. Is your driver here?”

Glancing down at her phone, Bernie nods. “Yeah.”

Kenny turns to Marjorine. “Let me walk her to the car and I’ll be right back. Go sit and make yourself comfortable.”

Marjorine enters Kenny’s apartment, brushes against Bernie by accident upon doing so. She looked like she wanted to fray Marjorine alive on an open fire and stomp on her charred remains.

Kenny and Marj’s closeness must bother her, Marjorine deduced, because they’ve been childhood friends since they could walk. Maybe even before then.

When Kenny got accepted into college on a soccer scholarship, Marjorine got accepted into the very same one and they left South Park behind together. They likely would’ve lived together as well, but their college didn’t allow students of the opposite gender to room together. Which was why Marjorine resided in the dorms, while Kenny settled into a small apartment here.

In a blink of an eye, Kenny changed to his pajamas; a plain t-shirt and sweatpants he’s owned since junior year of highschool that barely fits him anymore. From the couch, Marjorine watched as Kenny tied Bernie’s shoes laces. He was real careful about it too, knowing they were Golden goose. As he ushered Bernie out the door with his hand resting in the middle of her hip, he turns back and gives Majorine an acknowledging wink. Marj smiles until the door shuts behind him.

Kenny’s apartment is a simple two bedroom with the bare necessities. A tiny kitchen, a machine and a dryer that didn’t work too good, a slim bathtub that Kenny said could barely fit two. All those things might have just made the apartment simply bad, but the good is just as great. The walls are relatively thick, there’s a balcony with an amazing view, and the air conditioning had no trouble going full blast. All in all, Marj deemed it a cozy little place. That may be simply because Kenny’s scent was everywhere here.

Walking to the window, Marjorine made it in time to see Kenny and Bernie walking to the car. It scared her for a bit, because from the back, her and Bernie looked similar. They had the same mellow blonde hair that was often curled.

The two stop short in front of the BMW. From what Kenny told her, Bernie hated to drive, so she insisted on having a personal driver that came at her beck and call. She’s saying something to Kenny, a hand on his chest, and he shakes his head at her. Bernie’s eyes widened in equal measure of shock and anger. She pushes Kenny away slightly, before trying to enter them vehicle, but that’s when Kenny grabs her arm, says something, and kisses her hand the way a prince from a fairytale would. Whatever he said pacified Bernie, because her expression morphs into something so soft that Marjorine could hardly believe it. She didn’t know Bernadette Kaplan was capable of making such a face.

Seemingly from nowhere, Marjorine feels a sharp pain od hurt in her chest. It turns into something dull and aching. It comes from time to time, though Marj has no idea what the cause is.

Kenny and Bernie haven’t been dating long. A month at most. Personally, Marjorine saw it coming from a mile away. Kenny—handsome soccer star bounded for the league. She of the glossy blond hair, regal face, and astounding proportions—Bernadette. Their relationship seemed as sure as the sun would rise. Marj wasn’t sure how serious they were with each other, but sometimes Bernie looked at Kenny as if she really liked him. The him that went past his looks. The Kenny that sings songs at the top of his chest even though he knows he’s got the lyrics wrong. Kenny who occasionally forgets to eat and needed the reminder to do so. Kenny who Marjorine loves and trusted from the bottom of her heart.

With a parting kiss, Bernie enters the BMW. As soon as it speeds off into the distance, Kenny turned and began walking back. Marjorine watched him closely until she jolted when Kenny suddenly looked up and met her eyes. Yikes. It’s almost scary how aware of his surroundings Kenny was.

They gave each other a wave. A minute later, the front door opens and in came Kenny.

“There she is.” Kenny opened his arms wide and Marjorine practically jumped into them. He squeezed her tight, face in her neck, before scooting back and letting his eyes slide down her body. “Is this the dress we rock-paper-scissors on?”

It’s a game they play when they couldn’t decide on something. After going back and forth on this dress, Kenny ultimately won and Marj bought it. “Sure is!”

“Give me a twirl, let me see.” Kenny spins her around as Marj giggled. “Oh yeah, you’re—that’s gorgeous. See? Floral and you is a lethal combo.”

Marjorine adored how the skirt was flowy and long. Kenny liked the small daisy prints of the fabric. When she showed it off to Creed (albeit without him asking), he told her she dressed like Becky. Marjorine didn’t know who that was until he broke it to her that she was his late-grandma.

“Aw, shucks. Thank ya, Ken.” Blushing from Kenny’s compliments will probably be something Marjorine will do for the rest of her life. He gives it out to her like candy, so you’d think she’d be immune to it by now—but no. It still makes her shy every time.

He winks. “Only being truthful.”

Her heart that was aching before soothed over as if Kenny had placed a healing balm on it. Marj couldn’t remember why it ever began hurting. If it even hurt at all.

“So what’s up? I thought you were supposed to be with Creed tonight.” Though Kenny said that with a smile, his words came off as gritty and restrained. Marjorine fumbled with the laces of her skirt.

“I was, but…” It was hard to put it into words. Where does she even began?

Sensing her hesitation, Kenny places a reassuring hand flat on her back, steering her towards the kitchen. “Okay, how about this? I make dinner—you haven’t ate since lunch, right? And then you tell me whatever you want to when you’re ready.”

A smile bloomed on her face. “Okay.”

It’s easy to settle into something that could almost be called routine. Kenny is an amazing cook, Marj—not so much unless she had clear instructions, so therefore it was mostly Kenny whipping something up in the kitchen. She’s sitting on the barstool swaying her feet, admiring how skillful Kenny was with a knife. Every food that’s been touched by Kenny was guaranteed to be good.

“Do ya remember how I told you I did research? On the uh…bed stuff?” Marjorine began slowly, trying to find her flow. Kenny stiffened up for half a second before he nods.

“Yeah, because Creed can’t fuck for shit?”

She opened her mouth to maybe defend her boyfriend, but then closed it due to her lack of a rebuttal. It was an established fact at this point. Neither Creed nor Marjorine knew the first thing about the bedroom.

“We tried mouth stuff today.” Marjorine continued quietly, face as hot as the scorching sun. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed—It’s Kenny. She could talk about anything with Kenny and he would never judge her for it. And though she knew that to be true, that still doesn’t stop her from fidgeting with her skirt.

“You sucked him off?”

Marjorine nodded. “Yes, and he came!”

“Good job.” Kenny replied with rather tense shoulders. The angle she was sitting at didn’t allow her to see what expression he was making right now. “He ate you out too, right?”

“Well…”

“Well what?” Kenny turned around, holding a spatula high as he stared at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Marj. Don’t tell me that fuck—guy didn’t show you how grateful he was.”

“He did!” Marjorine chewed her bottom lip. “Or at least he tried to.”

A mere second of quiet consideration passes before Kenny deadpanned, “…He didn’t make you cum.”

“Yes…”

Which wasn’t anything new. But it is because it wasn’t anything new that Marjorine and Creed (her more then him, truthfully), started taking the time to learn bedroom stuff. Creed was able to reach his orgasm just fine, it was Marjorine who needed that extra help. It barely came to her when she was playing with her own body, but with Creed, it never.

She’s never once been able to cum with him.

“Jesus.” Kenny runs a hand across his face, shaking it in disbelief. It must be hard for someone like Kenny to comprehend, because if the rumors were true—Kenny had never known bedroom troubles ever. “So what happened in the end? Did he apologize?”

“No, he got..,” Marj recalled Creed’s sour words, feels her mood plummet. “frustrated. He said he didn’t understand why he had to learn when I’m the one who lays there like a d-dead fish.”

There’s a rise of shame that wells up within her from admitting that, because she knew it was true. Apart from the typical blowjob, she didn’t do much else sexually for Creed.

“Did he call you that?” She could hear Kenny walking to her and stopping just in front of her, but Marjorine did not look up. She simply nodded.

Gentle fingers grab her chin, tilting her head up to meet narrowed baby blue eyes. “That asshole called you a dead fish? Like he has any room to talk, bastard can’t even make you come!”

His grip on her on her chin won’t let her look away, so she simply just murmured what she feared all along, “…Maybe it’s me Kenny.”

“Don’t say that.” Kenny said, and now he just looks sad. Marjorine wanted him to understand where she was coming from, though.

“No, maybe it really is. Maybe I’m the—“ Kenny hands move from her face to squeeze her shoulders in assurance, to ground her, maybe.

“Marjorine, baby, it’s not you.” A part of her melt at that nickname. Something Kenny only ever calls her during their vulnerable moments, like he’s trying to tug at her heart strings. It works every time. “I promise you it’s not you. Creed just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, and that’s on him.”

She pursed her lips and admits, “But…I can rarely even make myself come.”

Every muscle within Kenny’s body stiffens. “…You can’t?”

It takes everything within Marjorine not to run out the door and die in embarrassment. It’s Kenny, she reminded herself, Kenny would never judge you.

“No, my fingers just don’t reach deep enough, I guess. It’s not…” She trails off, eyes landing on Kenny’s fingers; thick, long, adorned with a couple of silver rings they bought together at the pier because they were so cheap. It was Marjorine’s 18th birthday present to him, and she got to pick out the two of the five rings. “like yours.”

Jaw tight, Kenny swallowed before he asks rather hoarsely, “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doin’ what?”

“Okay.” Kenny’s head drops to Marjorine’s shoulder. He takes in a few deep breaths, inhales, before muttering, “It’s still not your fault. It will never be. Don’t blame Creed’s problems on yourself, okay?”

Things seem so much more believable when Kenny says it. The doubt that’s been gnawing away at her self esteem stops, if only for this moment, to let Marjorine breathe in his scent. “…Alright.”

Kenny gives her a smile, tucks her hair behind her ear. “Close your eyes.”

Wordlessly, she does it. She feels Kenny’s presence backtrack, followed by a string of noises that sounded a lot like dishes flashing and drawers opening. Whatever he’s been cooking smells amazing.

“Open them on one, two, three!”

In front of her was a platter of fried rice and an omelet. Marjorine’s mouth stretched wide into a smile. “You remembered.”

“Course’ I did.” Kenny nodded.

Back in South Park, the both of them would go to City Wok purely for the reasons that Marjorine adored their fried rice. And while Kenny wasn’t exactly a fan of anything Tuong Lu Kim made, he would still go with her and sit in the restaurant regardless. Just a week ago, she told him she missed his fried rice and the big, fluffy omelet.

Kenny pulls another bar stool to sit in front of her, focused on her first bite. “How is it?”

“Incredible.” Marjorine hummed. It’s not quite like the one from City Wok, but it’s delicious nonetheless.

“I took a basic recipe and tried to tweak it based off of the times I had it.” Kenny explained. Marjorine giggled.

“You mean all the times ya took a bite out of my plate when you thought I was distracted.”

Holding his hands up as if hes been caught red handed, Kenny amended, “I’ll let you know that the majority was you feeding me.”

A laugh bursted from her, she shook her head. That was true.

Kenny gets up from his seat while Marjorine continues to eat. When he comes back and sits down, it’s with a glass of ice cold water. Thank you, she told him. Kenny simply nodded and then dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin.

She feels the air shift before he even said anything; a certain unmissable tension.

“…Marj, why do you like that guy? I mean, I know he’s decent looking and in Phi Delt, but how far can that go when he acts like he’s five-years old?” He shot her a coy look.

His wording nearly made her wince. Kenny wasn’t the biggest fan of Creed; had never been even before they officially met. “He opens doors for me and checks up on me. When I look nice, he tells me so.”

“That’s the bare minimum.” Kenny scoffed.

Should she tell him the main reason? Yes. It’s Kenny. “He…He likes me.”

“Okay?”

He doesn’t get it. Marjorine will just have to say it upright. “I like him because he likes me.”

Not only was Creed a vastly talented person who was bound for great things, but he is also the only person who showed interest in Marjorine. He treated her like she was special, not someone to be forgotten or lose in the background.

It takes a while for Kenny to process this. When he does, his eyebrows scrunches up with disbelief as he states, “A ton of guys like you.”

Marj set down her spoon, gives Kenny an unamused ook. “What guys are ya talkin’ about?”

“80% of the male population in South Park!” Kenny exclaimed, throwing his hands to make a point. Marjorine shakes her head and continues eating.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. Marjorine, if it wasn’t for me, a hundred dudes would’ve come up to you and asked you out daily.”

“What do you have to do with it?”

Something akin to guilt flits through Kenny’s face, so fast Marjorine barely caught it. “They were afraid of me. Thought we were dating.”

“They did?”

Kenny nodded.

That was perhaps the most unbelievable thing Marjorine had heard all night. No, of all time. Sure strangers thought they were together, but they were strangers. South Park was so tight knit everyone knew each others grandma grandma’s—so they should’ve known better then to ever think someone like Kenny would ever go out with Marjorine of all people.

“Whatever gave them that idea?” She splutters.

“Yeah,” Lips pulled into a thin tight, Kenny was still refusing to meet her eyes. “good question.”

There’s a lull in their conversation. Kenny seemingly now has nothing to say. Marjorine squared her shoulders and prepares to defend her boyfriend, because that is what a good girlfriend would do.

“Creed isn’t always the best, yes. He certainly has his off days. But most of the time, he’s very kind to me. Just last Saturday he introduced me to his friends as his ‘precious.”

It was a special day for them, a good day, so long as Marjorine ignored how he left her standing at the corner for two hours. He claimed he didn’t forget about her, but Marjorine swore she almost see him leave.

Kenny made a face like he just ate something sour. “What is he, fifty? The Granny from Ice Age?”

“I thought it was very sweet.” Marjorine huffed.

Kenny drops his face into his hands. Marjorine knows that whenever he does that, it means he’s nearing his limit. He’s either frustrated and doesn’t know what to do, or he’s upset and doesn’t want anyone to see. Sometimes it could be both, most of the time it is. “I think—I know you could do better. He’s not the guy for you, Marjorine. No way in fucking hell.”

Better, Kenny said it so firmly, as if it was really that simple. But what was better then Creed Mossic, who treated her like a dime in a dozen. Who, despite the fact that he was set to inherit his father’s company, still chose Marjorine—a nobody? Someone their own parents couldn’t love?

“You mean you?" She asked in a way it sounded like a joke, with a hint of a chuckle, but she was picking at her fingernails and pulling at dry skin around her cuticles.

"No," Kenny said, stiffened and poker-faced. "I mean better.”

They fall into silence before Marjorine asked, because apparently they are being utterly open about their relationships now, “What about you and Bernie? Why are you dating her?”

A pause. “She’s fun.”

“Fun? How so?”

“She likes to…party?”

“You don’t sound too sure of that.”

“We’re not talking about me right now.” Kenny waved her off. They’ve been together for so long that Marjorine knows that just means he doesn’t want to answer. “I’m just saying you deserve better then some pencil dick fuck who can’t make you cum and treats you average. Because just average isn’t enough for a girl like you. You deserve world class. Like a prince from those fairytales you like.”

Something warm spreads through Marjorine’s body, from the delight of knowing how well Kenny knew her, to seeing the conviction he held on what Marjorine deserves. Kenny probably expected everyone to treat her like he did; with the utmost care and affection, gentleness but not fragility. Sadly, that wasn’t how the world worked.

“Fairytales ain’t real.” She learned that the hard way.

Kenny almost looked sad. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean your life should be an Edgar Allen Poe book.”

“It is not!” Marjorine exclaimed, horrified. “He ain’t as bad as it seems! Besides, I can live with the bad s-sex. I could handle bad sex for as long as I live!”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Kenny said firmly, before he makes a face and adds, “And you’re not spending the rest of your life with this dude. So this is only a temporary problem, but still.

“Ya sound so sure.” Marjorine said. Kenny lips tilt up into something that isn’t quite a smile or a complete frown either.

“That’s because I am.”

#first fic I wrote about Butters/Marj where they don’t have a crush on Kenny #I love it I should write this narrative more often #I will not reveal if Kenny has feelings though you could probably guess haha

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distinctlywhumpthing · 5 months ago

Note

idk about you but i would literally sell my firstborn for a future/more-recovered-aiden-chapter 👀

~ 🍯

Once upon a time, the scene of Aiden waking up in the back of Leo's van full of painting tools, thinking for a second he was seeing in monochrome would not leave me alone. Three years ago today, I posted the first part of Unintentional to start telling that story <3

As a postiversary present to everyone from the beginning (seriously, this ask is from 2022), here's a timeline jump. (Don't tell Leo, he's a real stickler for order.) Thanks for sticking with me and the boys <3

More Than This

Previous — Masterlist — Next

Snap.

Aiden huffs, twisting and grinding the broken pencil tip through the last stroke even as it threatens to tear the paper under his force.

He should be able to do this. It’s all he ever does now. Practice speaking, practice reading, practice writing. Follow the plans for eating, for exercising, for sleeping. He shouldn’t complain, he finally knows what to be. There was a time he’d let this routine support him like his spine. He was given a role to play but all he does is just that: pretend. He hasn’t made progress in weeks. The only thing he knows is how precisely he is failing.

Across the room, Leo stops typing. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at it for a while.”

He doesn’t need to look to know that Leo will have that concerned crease between his brows, mouth turned down at the corners as he tries to assess what the problem is this time. Aiden is nothing but problems.

“I’m fine,” he mutters but of course Leo is coming over. Would have no matter what he said.

Leo fills a glass at the sink and turns to lean against the counter across the island as he sips it. Aiden doesn’t want to see whatever look Leo is giving him that will just crumble his resolve. The triangles and circles on the page blur in and out of focus as he blinks back tears. Tears from the strain of making his damaged, useless brain process not-even-fucking-letters for the last few hours. Nothing else.

When Leo finishes his water, he fills a glass for Aiden, slides it in front of him. “I’ll do some work with you then.”

“No.” He definitely can’t look at Leo now.

Leo takes a measured pause.

The apology is on the tip of Aiden’s tongue but he keeps his jaw locked. Harder to stave off are the physical reactions. His body wants to shrink away, to flinch and hide and beg and be hurt and held. He tightens his fist around the pencil, pulling it into his lap to hide his shaking.

“I know you want to make progress but it’s okay to take breaks.” Leo makes his voice gentle, tiptoeing through the minefield between them. "It’s not going to set you back, you’ve been working hard.”

“Nnnno. I…mmm—” He shakes his head as if he could shake off the rising frustration coming up to tighten around his temples, his throat, his chest. He’s been trying to avoid the stuttered conjunction between every word, always made worse by times like this. Harrison guaranteed he would never get out of a painful situation too quickly.

Leo steps up to the other side of the island, leaning onto his elbows to lower himself into Aiden’s line of sight. “C’mon…”

He shakes his head, can’t trust himself to speak coherently. He’s being stubborn and stupid. Harrison would have threatened him by now if he hadn’t already backhanded him. He never dreamed of pulling something like this back with Archer or the Songs.

“Alright, hon.” Leo gives him one last long-suffering smile and turns back to the sink.

Aiden swallows a sob, furiously blinking away the hot tears prickling his eyes. Leo was never going to push him more than a little. Lead him to whatever line he’d drawn or found, offer to help him step over it, but be the first to abandon the idea if it was too much.

“Why?”

Leo shut off the tap. “Pardon?” He dries his hands on the bright salmon-pink tea towel threaded through the pull for the dishwasher. Delia says I shouldn’t be so allergic to real colors, he explained when Aiden pulled it out from the perfectly folded stack of muted earth-toned cotton in the cabinet.

“Why?” Aiden repeats, voice strained by the tightening in his chest. “I…don’t…mmm—” He squeezes his eyes shut, pushes past the stupid mumbling. “Why?”

“Why what, hon?” Frustratingly calm and earnest, so eager to help in whatever way he can.

Aiden wants to scream. It’s not fair, this isn’t Leo’s fault, but whatever has been sparked rages inside him beyond his control. “Why…do…mmm…mmm—” He mashes his lips together, forcing his lungs to fill with air. He will not start crying.

Leo tilts his head to the side. “Why do I…help?” Aiden shakes his head, huffing out a breath that is perilously close to a sob. “Why do I…care?”

It puts a rock right in the middle of his throat. He lifts his chin a fraction.

Defiant despite having literally no ground to stand on, Harrison used to taunt when Aiden was strung up on his table.

“Because I do. I do care about you…”

Aiden’s heart skitters in his chest. He looks away, all the wind gone from his sails because he’s as easily swayed as a feather. No. He won’t be weak, pathetic, and needy. He’s angry right now. Frustrated and bitter.

“There’s no one reason—”

“I…don’t—mmm—mmm—” He clenches his teeth together until they creak in the back of his jaw, blinking away more of the hot tears that refuse to fucking stop pooling in his eyes.

Leo stands there calmly, crease between his brows confirming that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. He’s worried. Always so worried and concerned and caring.

Because he cares.

Aiden stands, pushing away from the island and Leo. “I-I-I-I—” God, he wants to break something when it's like this. A wall he is just banging his head against, all the while becoming less coherent.

“Breathe,” Leo says, slowly rounding the end of the island toward him. “It will come. Just—”

“No. I…mmm…don’t…w-w-mmm—Fuck!” He slams his fist down on the counter.

Leo doesn’t even flinch.

Why should he? Of course he wouldn’t flinch.

Aiden moves away from him, starts pacing back and forth. He wishes he could run, pound his feet into pavement until it dulls whatever is going on inside his head.

“Aiden—“

“Not…mmm’my name.”

Leo’s expression falters.

It’s a low blow. Aiden knows it, they both know it. All it does is deepen the disparity between them. Making him all the more desperate as Leo regains his composure.

“If you want a different name—if you want me to stop calling you that, all you have to do is tell me.”

How can Leo be even calmer than before?

A sob escapes Aiden’s throat before he can swallow it. He turns away, circling the island to put it between them again. He doesn’t want Leo trying to comfort him. He doesn’t want it and he doesn’t deserve it.

“I don’t want you to keep the name just because at the time you thought it was my place to give it. That’s not how I saw it then and that’s certainly not how I see things now.”

Shame is oil on the fire, it only burns hotter. “Doesn’t…mmm’matter…”

“It does to me. I’ve never seen you as a Companion or treated you like one. I don’t expect anything, you know that.”

“Fuck…you.” He surprises himself but pushes on anyway. Even steps forward so they’re closer, eye-to-eye, bold with the slab of stone between them. “That…doesn’t—doesn’t mmm’make a…difference. Doesn’t mmm’make..mmm’me…different—”

“Wait, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“You—”

“I didn’t mean—”

He raises his voice to speak over Leo. “I’m’mmm…that’s…what-what…I am…”

Leo waits to make sure he’s finished this time. The stretching silence makes his shouting seem ridiculous and Aiden burns under the unearned patience, the undeserved consideration.

“I know,” Leo finally says.

“If you…don’t…mmm’w-w-want…this…why?”

Leo’s face falls and Aiden almost goes with it. He backs away from the gaping hole in his resolve. One misstep and he’ll be at the bottom of it, down on his knees. Putting a chink in Leo’s composure is no kind of feat. It only makes him feel that much closer to coming apart entirely.

“Please,” Leo moves around the island, trying to get onto the same side as Aiden again. “It’s not that black and white—”

“Mmm…yes…it-is.”

“But—”

“You-you…mmm…hate…it—” He points at Leo. Anyone else would have broken his accusatory finger. “You…hate…this…mmm’what…I am’mmm—” He backs away shaking his head.

“Wait, no. Aiden, that’s not what I meant. You misunderstood—”

“No!” He wants to hit the ceiling. Better yet, put his whole body through a wall and get the fuck away from here. From these feelings. Leo wouldn’t follow if he went up to his room. Not even if he slammed the door and started breaking things. But he can’t. He’s only acting brave enough to set this fire, he could never leave the blaze unattended. Just like he’s only acting like he’s recovering into a real person.

It’s all just acting. None of it is real.

Why?

He’s trapped and boiling, glaring at the charcoal-grey cabinets. He once put his fist through another one. A honeyed pine varnish with dark grain, an arched frame around the flimsy middle panel of each one. Hardly took any force to slam through it but he put his whole weight behind his fist anyway.

Of course, Leo’s damn cabinets are solid wood.

He cries out, turning away from Leo to slide down the cabinet he hasn’t so much as dented, cradling his hand against his chest. No point holding anything back now. He’s sobbing by the time he hits the floor, curling up tightly.

When Leo comes over, Aiden’s reaction slips out before he can catch it. He shrinks back, sobs turning to whimpers. “Please…mmm’sorry, mmm’sorry…mmm’good—” He can almost see himself from above, staring up at Leo with those distrustful, unblinking eyes. Lips still moving through the shapes of pleas he’s crying too hard to vocalize.

He hates that less-than-person. How little it controls and how much power it still holds. His shameless meltdown only puts him back exactly where he belongs. He’ll never be anything different.

“I know, I know. You are good.” Leo kneels carefully, holding his hand out, palm up, between them. “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s all good.”

Aiden shakes his head, gulping in air between sobs, knuckles throbbing. “I didn’t—didn’t mmm’mean…” He doesn’t know if the apology is for trying to ruin Leo’s kitchen or for exploding or for falling back on old habits.

“I know, it’s okay. We’re good. Come on, let me give you a hand?”

He swallows and tries to take a deep breath. Tries to compose himself, tries to get his mind to stop spinning through replaying and catastrophizing. He just wants—He needs—

“I—I used…t’be mmm’more than…this,” he blurts.

Leo stops waiting for Aiden to take his hand and slides in next to him against the cabinets instead. They sit in silence long enough that Aiden starts to wonder if Leo even heard him but Leo finally says, “I know.”

Aiden bites his lip, afraid to look at Leo but he can’t look too closely at his hand or he’ll draw unwarranted concern.

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Leo says after another long pause. “I care about you. I’m here for all of it and I’m not going anywhere. I think maybe you know that or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay, hon. We're figuring things out as we go."

Leo always means what he says so when Aiden looks up, it’s for a different kind of reassurance. Leo gives him his half-smile, reaching out to squeeze the back of his neck. Goosebumps run down Aiden’s spine and he drops his head onto his knees, hiding his face. Leo wraps an arm around his back.

By the time Leo speaks, Aiden has long since stopped preparing for Leo to pull away before he’s ready. “So, how about that break?”

He lifts his head from Leo’s shoulder, trying to gauge what he means.

Leo pulls him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”

And his heart falls.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps

@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight

@whumps-and-bumps @i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney (og asker?)

#bbu #bbu adjacent #recovery whump #dubious caretaker #petulant whumpee #pet whump #box boy whump #internalized ableism tw

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yankpop · 3 years ago

Text

Yandere NCT Dream: You lie to them

All copyrights belong to @yankpop (aka me) so do not post/translate my works on any other platforms without my consent/knowledge.

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: Dating/friendship context.

AN: Another Dream reactions, Hope you guys enjoy it 💖

Mark

Mark is super upset that you decided to lie to him. Doesn’t matter if it’s a small and seemingly insignificant lie. It matters the world to him that you decided to break the strong bond of trust he has put on you.

How can he trust you with going out, spending time with all those “friends” of yours and expect you to stay loyal to him when you can’t even be honest with him? It really messes with his head how he’s gonna deal with it cause Mark also wants you to be fully honest on your own and without his pressure.

Eventually he’s gonna resort to confront you about it, on how he’s your friend (for now. Plans to become boyfriend on motion) and that he deserves the truth. Basically, guilt-tripping you into telling him everything.

“You know that I care about you but I’m not gonna accept any of this bullshit. Both of us know that you’re lying right to my face. How can you tell me that your favorite color is blue when you initially told me you hated it?”

Renjun

This boy can’t believe that you just spit a blatant lie to his face, without even thinking twice about it. Renjun takes in every single detail on your face while you tell him whatever lie you decided to tell yet the fact that you remained completely indifferent is what makes him the most incredulous. Don’t you have any respect for him? For his fierce love for you?

He purposely stays silent for a few seconds, with a completely blank face to make you uncomfortable on purpose. Then, the questioning starts. Who are you texting? What’s the relation between you two? Why are you texting them? Why do you keep smiling when texting them? And it goes on and on.

Renjun is not naive, and he definitely knows when you’re lying. He’s your boyfriend after all, it’s his job to know all about you. So, lying to him will not work. Will grill you with endless questions until you slip on a detail and then Renjun proceeds to extract the whole truth out of you.

Even if it ends up ruining a surprise party you were secretly planning for him with his friends

“What do you mean by surprise party? For me? Really? Oh, you should’ve said that before, darling, but it’s okay. I’ll just pretend like I don’t know about it, okay?”

Jeno

Doesn’t know how to react. He literally freezes when he finds out that you’ve been lying to him. On the inside Jeno is deeply hurt by your unloyal attitude but on the outside, he acts cold and indifferent, not even bothering to mask his change of behavior towards you.

How could he not react to the fact that you have a crush on one of his best friends, despite always telling Jeno that you never liked any of his friends. Sure, you’re only a friend but he was in deep love with you and how could you not see that? How could you be so blind not to see how perfect you and him are together?

And the worst is that you like someone else and didn’t share it with him. The only way he found was through a mutual friend that couldn’t keep her mouth shut, letting out your precious secret.

Jeno would be impassive whenever you tried talking to him, giving you short answers until you would finally try to discover why he was so mad at you.

“What’s wrong with me? I don’t know, you tell me. Do you think I’m a complete fool? That I wouldn't find out about you liking Mark hyung?”

Haechan

Oh really, that’s the game you want to play? Because Haechan also knows how to play dirty, and he does it better than anyone. If you think that you can meet friends behind your boyfriend’s back and pretend like nothing happened when you know he absolutely despises them, then you’re dead wrong.

All of the sudden, he’s the one “hiding” secrets from you but still making sure you know that he’s keeping something from you. Secrets messages all the time, constant phone calls where he literally moves to another house division and that only lasts a few mysterious seconds.

All of this just to raise your suspicions and to make you feel insecure. You can think whatever you want about it because Haechan will just act like nothing is happening and you’re the one being a controlling girlfriend.

When you finally break down because of it, he’ll reveal that it was to make you realize how your own betrayal and secrets could harm your relationship. Take it as a lesson to never keep secrets from Haechan, cause he’ll always know.

“You thought I was cheating on you? I wasn’t, but frankly you’d deserve it if I did. Now you know how I felt when you lied to me just to hang out with those so-called friends of yours. From now on, let’s promise no more secrets, okay? Otherwise, I’ll have to take things to another level, and you won’t like that one bit.”

Jaemin

Not the best attitude to have with Jaemin, for sure. The only thing you accomplish by lying to him is making the normally kind and loving boy pissed off. He doesn’t want his beloved princess lying shamelessly to him.

He doesn’t find it amusing at all and honestly, with his dangerously low level of patience Jaemin is not someone you want to mess around with, not even about small details. He expects - no - demands complete honesty from you therefore any lies that might innocently escape from your lips are gonna be severely punished.

He’s gonna spank you until his hand hurts and that only happens much after you lose any remaining energy you had. It better serve as a reminder that Jaemin loves you, but he doesn’t love your lies, so don’t test his patience.

“You’re telling me that you came home late because of work? Funny, because I saw you talking for quite some time with some stranger on the way home, so why lie to me? Seems like my sweet girlfriend has lost her respect for me, huh? Do you really think you can just lie to me? Should’ve thought about that before cause now you’re about to get punished for being a bitch.”

Chenle

Chenle’s not gonna put up with your lies and he makes sure you know that. He’s not gonna pretend like he’s okay with you lying to him, so Chenle gives you a hard cold stare while you keep enrolling with your story on how you can’t hang out with him because you have to attend a distant relative’s wedding when Chenle knows that you don’t have any family besides your parents, so why even bother to make up a lie?

You lying is just as ridiculous as you trying to ditch him.

Sometimes Chenle can swear you don’t have a brain, cause you act so dumb. He prefers to catch you red handed, so he merely accepts your poor excuse and lets you be, just to knock on your door on the supposed wedding day just to catch you there and invite himself to hang out with you in your house.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here at home. Shouldn’t you be at some wedding function? Pfft, I knew from the start that you were lying cause you’re a horrible liar so don’t even bother to try again in the future.”

Jisung

Jisung is more hurt than anything. He can’t even believe that you’d do such a horrible thing to him, leaving him completely confused about why you just lied to him. It really messes with his head and he just can’t figure it out.

It’s such a random lie that Jisung simply can’t wrap his head around the fact that you lied. Why would you say that you hated pizza when you always ordered it when the two of you would go out? It’s a bizarre thing, for sure. Could it be a girl's thing to lie about the most trivial things to their boyfriends?

Jisung will definitely talk about it with his hyungs, learning that he needs to stay more attentive to you and your tastes and preferences.

“Oh, wait, you hate pizza? Really? But, for real? I really thought you liked it!”

Tags:

@mwitsmejk

#yandere nct #nct yandere #@yankpop #yandere nct dream #yandere nct dream reactions #yandere mark #yandere haechan #yandere jeno #yandere jaemin #yandere renjun #yandere jisung #yandere chenle #yandere scenario #yandere!nct #yandere kpop #kpop yandere

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hchollym · 2 years ago

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The hc of Percy being a spy has always been so interesting to me because everyone always goes about it in a different way.

Sometimes it’s him not believe Voldemort is back at first and then joining another group to help muggleborns while he’s at the Ministry.

Sometimes it’s that Dumbledore asked him and the fight with his family, on his side at least, was fake.

Sometimes it’s him and Arthur both knowing the fight is fake but no one else does.

I personally like it best when either A. The fight is real, somehow Percy learns the truth later on and he helps but it’s not with the Order. (Because let’s face it Everyone knew who was in it pretty much, not the best for spy work unless your double sided and then double double sided (Snape I’m looking at you)

I can see many people forming small to large groups and Percy joining one of those and helping as many as he can. Working from the inside out. Trying his best to keep the wizarding world running while helping those who are especially affected by the war. (Because people never understand just how important it is to keep up on those little things still but Percy Weasley does)

Or maybe he is asked to spy and told its best to not tell his family. But the fight wasn’t supposed to happen. (Oh the angst that can be found there, Percy hurt and angry and still trying to protect his family but still means every word he said in that fight because it was real)

There’s just so much potential when it comes to spy Percy Weasley.

It's definitely an interesting topic, and since JKR left it unexplored, there's a ton of different ways that people can headcanon it! 😄

I’ve talked about this before here, here, and here. I personally think Percy didn't believe Dumbledore at first, but once he realized his mistake, he started helping muggle-borns as much as possible through his own actions (i.e. forging documents) and through Aberforth (see the posts linked above).

I think it's possible that Percy worked with a different, smaller group than the Order, but I just personally tend to think that he wouldn't risk it, because by then, he would have been extremely cautious about who he trusted (he is committing treason, after all). We know that he had some sort of connection with Aberforth, so I think he was the most realistic person for Percy to work with.

Aberforth was a member of the Order of the Phoenix during the First Wizarding War, and he was basically a reluctant Order member in the Second Wizarding War - not super thrilled or passionate about participating, but he knew it was necessary (hence his help to the students at Hogwarts through the hidden passageway). He knew how to get information to the necessary people of the resistance (to warn about raids, tell them the battle was starting, etc.), but he also knew how to fly under the radar and keep his mouth shut (about Percy's allegiance and who his source was).

Plus, even though Aberforth was Albus' brother, he certainly didn't worship the man like a lot of other people, and he wouldn’t have held Percy’s past mistakes against him, because he didn’t care enough to get involved in personal drama, so I think it makes sense for Percy to feel the most comfortable trusting him.

I personally don't tend to believe that Percy was a spy before he left his family - I just don't think that Dumbledore would have trusted his loyalty enough for that. The only way I can really see Percy being a spy before the fight happened is if one of my dark headcanons was true, but I'm going to put that under the cut due to trigger warnings for rape & torture.

Regardless of how it happened, there is so much potential with Spy Percy, and it makes so much sense in canon. I just love it! ❤️

Thanks for the comment! 😊

Trigger Warnings For the Rest of This Post: Rape & Torture

So this is definitely one of my darker headcanons, but I can't help but feel like Barty Jr. saw Percy working for his father and used that opportunity to hurt him.

We know that Barty hated his father (for legitimate reasons), but then Percy came along - a young man practically worshipping Barty Sr. and kissing his arse - and Barty immediately wanted to break him to punish his father (in a weird ‘I stole your new toy’ kind of way).

We also know that Barty was breaking free from the Imperius Curse, and we know that Percy spent plenty of time working, so Barty would have had the opportunity to get to him at some point. I think he used the Cruciatus Curse on Percy and raped him (as sexual torture), but Percy was too embarrassed and traumatized to ever tell anyone.

It’s like how so many men won't ever report sexual abuse; I think Percy blamed himself for not being stronger and ultimately internalized a lot of self-hatred and disgust. He probably intended to take that secret to his grave while also trying to ignore it & pretend it never happened. His mental health was definitely not great, to put it mildly (which I think contributed to the argument and Percy’s desperation for Dumbledore to be lying, because the truth meant having to face his worst memory, and he wasn’t prepared to do that).

It’s possible that he didn’t even know who Barty was, but it’s also possible that he found out and Mr. Crouch manipulated him into keeping it a secret, preying on Percy’s hero worship and his inability to cope with that trauma.

Either way, I think if Dumbledore figured that out from using Legilimency on Barty Jr. (when they captured him after the Triwizard Tournament), then he would absolutely use that to manipulate Percy into being a spy so that he could take down other Death Eaters like Barty.

And if that happened, I think Percy would very likely push his family away for their own good (i.e. through “The Argument”), because he knew he was going down a dangerous, self-destructive path, but that was the point.

#ask me #anon ask #percy weasley #spy percy weasley #spy percy #tw: rape and torture #only under the cut though #percy weasley defense squad #my thoughts #my headcanons #hp #unpopular opinion #dark headcanon

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ereardon · 2 years ago

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At Sea, With You

A/N: This is a snippet of an original work that I started that was inspired by TGM but where the MC is a Naval aviator who falls in love with the ship surgeon on a mission. Little does he know that she got engaged three weeks before they set out to sea. Jacob (the surgeon) is Lewis Pullman in my mind and I weirdly have Sadie Sink in mind for Meredith the MC. Not a TGM fic, technically OC x OC. Just thought it might be fun to post this!

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s OK. I’m just lucky you showed up tonight.”

He sounds relieved, like he really thought I wouldn’t show. Guilt clouds my mind. I tap my bare left ring finger against the coffee cup. The good part of me, the part that volunteers at the food shelter and cuts up six-pack plastic rings so fish don’t get stuck and the part of me that wore a white confirmation dress under the scorching Louisiana sun screams at the rest of me to tell him. In the deep recesses of my mind she tells me that I owe him that.

“Are you alright?” Jacob leans toward me and props an elbow up on the wall behind us. I lay my head back until it is touching the wall, and his arm is only inches from me. His bicep when I had touched it was muscular. He’s carting around a really excellent body underneath his uniform, I am positive of it. The quiet, unassuming exterior is hiding something beneath it.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem a bit off.”

“Do you really know me well enough to say something is off?”

Immediately I can tell he’s taken aback, and guilt starts to seep to every corner of my body. Kindness is not always a great strength of mine. I’ve had to bite my tongue more than once growing up in the South with the alphabet of the Navy always ready on my lips. Honesty is a philosophy I lean too hard into at times, to my detriment. And one I ignore all too often as well.

“I’m sorry,” I add, quickly. “That was rude of me.”

Jacob drops his arm and straightens up. “It’s alright. I overstepped.”

“I just mean, we’re strangers, right? Or kind of? And saying something like that makes me think you see this as more than it is.” I squeeze my eyes shut, hate myself the moment the words leave my lips. I’m not sure why I say it. It’s sour as it exits my mouth.

“Trust me, I am very aware of the situation, Meredith.” His voice is bone chillingly calm. I give him a side eye and see he’s looking at me, lips pulled in a frown.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

My heart begins to jog in my chest. He knew. He had spotted the ring that first day and has been pretending otherwise ever since. If anything I’m pissed at myself. An anxious blush creeps across my face, combating the cold of the ocean wind.

“The mission is only a few weeks,” Jacob says and my pulse instantly starts to even out. “You’re young and smart and absolutely beautiful. I know that if we were anywhere else, this wouldn’t be happening.” He waves his hand between us. “If I had met you at a bar in New York you wouldn’t have given me a second look. But here, on the ship, it’s a limited dating pool. Everything out here is limited. I’m your default.”

Dating pool. The elephant in the room. The whale on the ship. He’s laying it out there for the world to see. I’m not imagining the electric current I feel running between us.

I breathe out a sigh of relief, not even realizing I had been holding my breath, and lay my left hand gently on his thigh. He looks up at me and the vulnerability across his button nose and pink cheeks makes me flush.

“Stop it,” I whisper lightly. I want to tell him the truth. That I noticed him the very first day in the mess. That talking to him feels like talking to an old friend, but also stimulates a nerve I didn’t even know I had. That touching him feels natural. That I waited all day, rushed my duties, to make sure I made it up here, just hoping he would still be here.

He glances down at my hand. I start to feel insecure and go to lift it, but then change my mind.

“Meredith.” That’s it. Just my name rolling off his lips in a quiet whisper that gets picked up and sailed away by the wind. I still don’t lift my hand from his leg. Instead, I rub my thumb slowly back and forth a few times. A reassurance. So without saying it, he knows. Through the silence, I hope he reads me.

I look over at him. “It’s not like that OK?”

He nods.

“I need you to know you’re a choice, not a default. I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that.”

The words hang in the hair, dense like a thick fog rolling in. Jacob glances over at me, his gentle face slowly relaxing.

We sit there in the darkness and in silence, my hand on his leg, until the coffee in our cups goes cold. Until the wind picks up so high it feels like I have tinnitus from the constant ringing. Until we both realize how late it is, and how tired we will be the next day. Until we both know, deep down, that tomorrow will be different.

#oc x oc #tgm inspired #naval aviator

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photogirl894 · 3 years ago

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Happy 1 year Tumblr return!!! I've loved every moment I've gotten to spend you! Here's to more years! 🥰🖤

For the prompts: Fluff/Relationship

19. “For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”

Just Cross and Omega in a sniper's nest. Hanging out, being siblings. Maybe Omega is dishing out the burns over comms to the rest of the Batch gets to chime in.

I've loved every moment with you, too, Deathy!! 💜 You really are one of my dearest friends here! Thank you for making this past year amazing!

I most certainly can do this request for you! Absolutely 😊 (I'll just say it's post Imperial Crosshair and he's come back to the squad, where he freaking should be!)

"Keeping Watch"

19. “For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”

Pairing: Crosshair & Omega

***

Omega sat down and spoke into her comm, "Hunter, we're in position." Then she looked over to her companion and said excitedly, "Thanks for letting me keep watch with you, Crosshair."

Crosshair just huffed and droned, "Don't mention it."

The two sat on the ledge, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement so them and the others could enact their plan of attack. So far, there was nothing. Omega was starting to get bored and was wanting to try and strike up conversation with Crosshair...as best she could, anyway.

"It's good to have you back, you know," she told him.

"Is it, though?" he asked.

"Yeah, it is! Why would I lie?" she questioned in return.

Crosshair's head turned to look at her. "I did terrible things and for a while, I made all of you not trust me. I feel as though I was asked back out of pity."

Omega was surprised to hear him say that. "That's not true!" she cried out. "You're our brother, Crosshair. We always wanted you back...even if things were rough for a while. You made mistakes; we all do. I've definitely made a lot, too. Hunter could tell you all about them."

"I believe you," Crosshair replied. There was a small silence before he then spoke up, “I will admit, but only to you...for the most part, I am, in fact...an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”

Omega smiled, satisfied at his words. "I definitely think it does," she said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Crosshair looked over his shoulder at her and a tiny, pleased grin slowly formed on his mouth.

"Well, it's about time he admitted it."

Hunter's voice suddenly speaking out made both Crosshair and Omega jump and Omega's face went hot as she realized...she had left her comm on and the boys had heard everything.

"You've got to be kidding me," Crosshair groaned, putting a hand over his face.

"Crosshair admitting he's an idiot...I never thought I'd live to see it," then came Tech's voice through the comm.

"You and me both," added Echo.

"Oh, shut up...!" said Crosshair loud enough for them to hear.

Wrecker's laugh came through before saying, "We still love you, Crosshair!"

That just made Crosshair roll his eyes and scoff in disgust.

"Oh, lay off, guys," said Omega into her comm before turning it off for the time being. Then she looked at Crosshair, sheepishly grinned and said, "Sorry...! I didn't know it was still on."

He frowned for a second, but then shrugged. "I guess I can let it slide...this one time," he said, giving her a side-eye glance. "But so help me, if that happens again, I'm telling Hunter to keep you on the ship."

"No!" she exclaimed, shoving his arm.

Crosshair just snickered teasingly.

20 Fluff/Relationship Prompts

More Crosshair fics

Bad Batch Writing Requests

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch crosshair #bad batch omega #bad batch prompts #photogirl894 tumblr anniversary celebration

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orionsangel86 · 4 years ago

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SPN Conspiracies - Applying Logic to Chaos

Its been over 2 months now since the Supernatural finale aired. I am still so angry, hurt, and confused by it and I don’t think I will ever get closure unless someone like Andrew Dabb, or Jensen Ackles, actually opens up and gives us an explanation that makes sense.

What annoys me most right now is people trying to gaslight fans into believing that we should accept the narrative we have been given at face value: That the finale was always planned to be that way, that Destiel was never on the cards, that there was no Network interference, that the only changes made were due to covid and were minor at best.

This harmful gaslighting is FALSE.

NO ONE KNOWS THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED.

Look, I don’t agree with some of the crazier conspiracy theories. I don’t believe that there was some huge campaign among the CW Network execs to remove anything remotely gay out of homophobia. I don’t believe that the finale was changed because of some desire to make it into a Walker promo. I don’t believe that the finale was really bad on purpose in protest by Dabb for not getting to do an ending he truly wanted. I don’t believe that Dabb left us smart fans a bunch of secret messages in the finale to hint that he was on our side all along and that everything was fake.

I do, however, believe that all of these conspiracy theories have some elements in them that are plausible. At least, more plausible than the bullshit narrative mentioned above that some people are pushing in some desperate attempt to defend the Network (which imo is really strange behaviour anyway - why would anyone care about a TV network with a history of terrible behaviour?!?)

We have facts, based on information provided before the covid lockdown, which for some reason, people like Misha have since backpeddled on. So let me try to outline some of the information that makes no sense.

Below the cut I go on a deep dive into the conspiracies and statements I have heard about the SPN finale and try to make some sense of this whole fucked up situation. It gets long.

1. “Cas was never gonna be in the finale”.

False: We have many fan accounts of Misha confirming that he was filming the finale. We have video evidence of Misha confirming he was going back to film the finale after the lockdown. We have confirmation from fans in Misha M&Gs from March that he had about 5 days of filming left.

We also had fan accounts of discussions with Alex Calvert (I think) where he confirmed the final shot of the final episode was all four of them though I would LOVE if someone can find a source for this.

2. Okay, Misha was gonna be in the finale, but only as Jimmy Novak

False: I heavily side eyed Misha when he said this. But I think I can come up with a plausible explanation for it. Per above, Misha was supposed to film for 5 days. This does not align with the half a day he described of filming as Jimmy Novak. My own belief is that after Cas was cut from the finale (for whatever reason we don’t know) someone (probably Jensen Ackles) put up a fight and complained that Misha should be there for the final episode. The writers probably tried to come up with a way to bring Misha back without having to deal with Cas, and pitched the idea of Jimmy Novak being in Heaven. Misha, obviously annoyed about this, turned this stupid pitch down.

3. Destiel was never a thing, never planned, never part of Dabb’s ending. Bobo and Misha pushing the confession was the part of the season that was Wrong.

False: We have a SPN writer on record saying that Castiel’s confession was the first thing written for Season 15 when the writers returned to the writers room. If it wasn’t planned, why was it the first thing written, why does it align so well with the rest of season 15? Look I know some people either a. hate destiel and refuse to see it even if it slaps them in the face, or b. have major heteronormative goggles on, or c. are just homophobes in denial, but 15x18 fits in perfectly with the narrative of season 15. Everything Cas says, everything that happened in that scene was so in character it just works. It fit. If you just rewatch the season whilst applying some critical thinking skills and pay attention to the narrative and character arcs, trust me, the confession fits in with pretty much every other plot point, and character story in the season.

Also: We have known for a while that the network did market research into Destiel, wanting to know if it would go down well or not. They were well aware of its popularity and considering it. Where would this have come from if not pitched by the showrunner? Dabb must have at least been considering it. If you take all of Dabb era into consideration, starting with mid season 11, all the way through the season 12 build up, season 13 grief arc, and then Bobo’s Destiel break up arc in late season 14, early season 15, it is clear that there was some toing and froing on the issue of Destiel, but ultimately, I still believe that Dabb was on board. He wrote 13x01 for christs sake. No way he wasn’t taking it seriously.

4. It’s always been about the brothers. The finale just stays true to what Supernatural is all about.

*rubs temples* Fundamentally FALSE: The show has time and again reasserted the message of “Family don’t end with blood”, as well as the messages of AKF and YANA. Sam and Dean may be at the heart of the show, but a heart can’t exist without a body to support it. Without bones, and lungs, and blood, and muscles, and a BRAIN. The finale abandons the shows core messages. It forces the characters back into their season 1 characterisations and the whole thing becomes hollow and souless. But I’m not here to complain, I’m here to lay down the facts. Dean’s heaven was supposed to be surrounded by loved ones right? We know OG Charlie Bradbury was gonna be in his Heaven, we also know CAS was gonna be in there. So this idea that the finale as it currently stands was how it was meant to be is wrong. Dean was supposed to die and reunite with his found family and loved ones. This alone would have been a far better ending than the one given. Do I think this was solely a covid issue? Fuck no.

The randoms that WERE in the finale are proof alone that they could have got people in and quarantined. We also have several actors on record saying that they WOULD have quarantined for the finale had they been asked to return but they WEREN’T.

Lies have been told. Samantha Ferris and Chad Limberg have confirmed that we have been lied to about the original plans for the finale.

This alone is proof enough that there is more plausibility in some of the conspiracy theories than any bullshit narrative some people are pushing in defence of the barbaric mess of a finale we were given.

So lets address some of the conspiracy theories now:

Conspiracy No.1: The CW Network reviewed Supernatural during the covid break, and due to homophobia, refused any Destiel arc that wasn’t already filmed, shut down any potential reciprocation from Dean, and forced Dabb to change his finale.

I don’t think this is entirely what happened. But I do think it is very strange how there is a such a huge disconnect particularly in Dean’s characterisations between what had come before the lockdown, and what came after. The one fact we have here, and please someone provide a source if you can find it because I know there is one, the finale script was still going through changes up to only 2 weeks before it was filmed. We know that there was some weird editing in 15x18 (which was still in post and uncompleted before lockdown) and we know from Jensen’s own mouth that there was more to the confession scene on Dean’s side that was cut. We also know that this isn’t the first time that Destiel heavy moments have been changed in post - the prayer scene is another big scene that went through a lot of changes and Bobo fought to have his script play out the way he wanted it.

There are certain things that in my own opinions, are basically true of SPN which I have put together from years of keeping one eye on the writers room, the network, and all the various comments made. My opinion is this:

The writers room has always been split on Destiel. Some writers heavily supported making it canon, others did not care, or were against it.

The Network considered it over the course of several years, did market research, green lit it, then changed their minds, possibly several times over the course of Dabb’s era. Destiel was pitched to the Network early in Dabb era.

The crew on set were also split. Some people heavily supported it, and worked to assist the reading, whereas others did not care/did not support it. The same can be said for the editing room.

Bob Singer supported the subtextual homoeroticism, but never supported bringing it into text (this is an opinion, but I think it aligns with everything we know about him.) IMO Bob Singer also supported subtextual homoeroticism between Sam and Dean - the guy is gross is what I’m saying. He isn’t exactly a progressive person.

Fun fact - a while back our old enemy Sera Gamble went on a Twitter rant about writers rooms and the ways a script goes through changes. I don’t think this was in relation to the SPN finale wank but she basically inadvertantly confirmed that the Network can step in and make sweeping changes to a script if they want to and if they decide they don’t like the direction of a story. Sera Gamble confirmed this as a fact.

Now. I’m not saying that this is what the CW did with Destiel. I just think its very strange how pre lockdown, the last thing filmed is a heartfelt homosexual declaration of love between Dean and Cas, and we have a finale script that Misha had not seen, but knew that he was meant to film as Castiel for 5 days (5 days on set is over half of an episode as far as I know). Then all of a sudden, Covid happens, and Cas is cut from the finale completely, a desperate attempt to bring Misha back only as Jimmy Novak takes place, which Misha rightly refuses, leading to a finale which makes zero sense narratively and appears in every way completely and utterly butchered.

The only explanation provided by anyone involved is that Covid meant changes had to happen - but that covid didn’t change the actual story at all.

But this makes no sense because we know that Cas was cut from the finale. This is FACT. Do not let anyone gaslight you into thinking otherwise. Misha was preparing to quaranting to return to set as Cas post Covid, so whatever happened to cut Cas from the finale, it wasn’t Covid.

I’m gonna have to Occum’s Razor this and say that the most logical explanation here is the one that is most likely true. Someone got cold feet with the Destiel story, and to prevent any possible interpretation that included Dean reciprocating, any hints of Destiel were removed from the finale script, including Castiel’s whole appearance.

Now, this isn’t me saying I think that Dabb’s original finale was full of Destiel love confessions and a homosexual kiss or whatever, but I am asking you all to really think about it and ask yourselves WHY Cas would have been totally cut from an episode he was supposed to be in at LEAST half of?

We will probably never know the real reason Cas was cut, but he WAS cut. I’m not saying it was all homophobia, but some fuckery went down.

Conspiracy No. 2: The CW Network changed the finale to make it into a Walker promo because they only cared about raising up Jared and not Jensen and Misha as they were losing them anyway.

I don’t agree with this in terms of the finale being butchered solely to make it into a Walker promo. There are however moments in the finale that are clearly supposed to be Walker Easter Eggs and added to excite fans of Jared/Sam in particular such as Sam’s gratuitous and unnecessary topless scene, as well as the call on the “case in Austin”.

I will take this moment to say something pretty damn controversial though.

*Deep breath*

The fact is, Dean Winchester has been the “lead” character of Supernatural’s narrative for years now, with Sam often being sidelined and not given great storylines himself. Even in Season 15, right up until the finale, I myself felt bad for Sam sometimes because so much of this show has become all about Dean. Jensen Ackles is clearly the better actor when it comes to emotional story arcs, so the emotional heart of the story has most often leant on him.

So you can understand my confusion, when this is turned on its head in the final episode, to make Sam carry all the emotional weight, and have the most lines/screentime, and story resolution (even if his story resolution was just as crappy as Dean’s).

If we pretend that Destiel is not a thing, and ignore Cas’s confession, the story change in the finale from Dean focus to Sam focus is still rather suspicious. Again, I’m not saying I completely approve of or agree to the conspiracy theory that Walker influenced the butchering of the script, but I can believe that perhaps a note went down from the CW to someone like Bob Singer, to emphasise Sam/Jared more than they perhaps would normally, because the CW wanted to shine the spotlight on Jared to raise excitement for Walker.

I can also believe this note might have said something like “we wanna cater to fans of Sam/Jared the most - don’t do anything to piss them off.” but now I am getting into my own conspiracy theories so by all means dismiss this as me being bitter.

Conspiracy No.3: Dabb purposely made it bad, as a secret message to Destiel fans that he had been silenced, by layering meta clues into the episode that he knew fans would notice.

I doubt this one is true. Though some of the theories are quite compelling. The old vampire silent movie theory for instance starts off quite well, but loses me the moment it brings up Urban Dictionary slang.

Sometimes I have just had to accept that Supernatural is a bad show that is sometimes accidentally a masterpiece. However, some writers really did go That Deep with their stories - anything by Ben Edlund or Steve Yockey for instance, their episodes are meta masterpieces with a hundred different layers of beautiful subtextual storytelling and are a joy to analyse. Bobo Berens has certainly done some A+++ work especially now we KNOW that he was working hard all this time to bring Destiel to canon text (so any analysis of Destiel in the subtext in his episodes is very accurate). There have been many other key elements analysed over the years which have been confirmed true. Cas’s death in Season 12, Dean’s time as a demon in season 10, Season 11 ending in unity of dark and light, these were all plot points predicted by meta writers just by analysing the narrative. Sometimes the writers really have been very smart and they do add things to the show to aid us in our meta.

Richard Speight Jr for instance, confirmed that SPN has a visual library that the production team use to give clues and hints in the narrative. Pizza, for example, always means a lie has been told. Whenever Pizza is being eaten or even just mentioned on screen, there is dishonesty in that particular moment.

The beers also have a very specific message and the one thing I can’t let go about the finale, was that Dean was drinking El Sol beer. The beer his dad gave him, that was terrible.

El Sol has been used in the show to indicate something being wrong, a fake reality, or another lie, for the longest time. It is the beer of deception.

The fact that in the final episode of this entire show, Dean is in Heaven, supposedly at peace, and then he gets handed an El Sol beer to drink? Thats a HUGE red flag for any meta writer watching who can read SPNs visual library.

If they had given him the Margiekugel beer of family then it would make sense. Dean is in Heaven, with Bobby, his family, at peace. Margiekugel should have been the beer of choice. But nope. El Sol. Something is wrong.

I don’t know if it was Dabb, or Singer, or some disgruntled ADs and crew members who added these elements into the finale, but their very presence confirms some message of Wrongness.

I could go into a huge rant about Vampire Mimes not making sense and the very glaringly obvious symbolism of cutting out peoples tongues too, but that is high school level film analysis. It’s obvious. It means to silence someone. There is validity in interpreting this as Dabb saying he was silenced. I don’t know how true it is, but i can’t 100% dismiss it, because as I said, this is high school analysis levels of obvious subtextual storytelling.

So in summary, whilst I don’t think that Dabb intentionally went out of his way to sabotage his own script, and leave a breadtrail of secret messages for savvy fans to put together to confirm that he was silenced by an evil network into not getting what he wanted... I do think that there is validity in questioning these odd choices for the finale. Cutting out tongues? Vampire Mimes? El Sol beer?

The evidence is somewhat compelling is all I’m saying. I don’t believe the full conspiracy theories, but as I have said many times before, some fuckery went down.

So What Do I Believe?

That some fuckery went down and whatever company line they are pushing is bullshit.

I believe that the original script included Cas (since thats fact). I believe that the original script probably always had Dean dying on a vampire hunt (due to Jensen’s issues with it and in particular, his sarcastic comments about vampires in the past year or so which in hindsight are hilarious and prove he never really came to terms with Dean’s idiotic death). I believe Dabb’s original script was some less crappy version of what we got, which potentially included showing Jack rescuing Cas from the Empty and resolving the outstanding Empty plot points (potentially this was actually a 15x19 plot since Mark P commented that his final scenes were supposed to be with Jack and Cas), had Cas reunite with Dean in Heaven and had them have a discussion about Cas’s confession. I believe that there was probably a lot of back and forth over how to handle that with some people wanting Dean to obviously reciprocate and others believing they should keep it ambiguous. I believe that Dean and Cas would have reunited with Charlie Bradbury, and Bobby Singer, and possibly others (though if this was the case it must have been very early on since no one ever looped in Sam Ferris, Chad Linberg or any other Roadhouse people).

I believe that Sam’s ending probably didn’t change much, but I do feel that initially they were planning on him ending up with Eileen, because it is the only thing that narratively makes sense. Cutting Eileen and giving him a blurry wife is something I won’t ever understand and Jared’s bullshit explanations are quite clearly pulled out of his ass to appease bronly types. I believe the reunion on the bridge would have included Cas and Jack, with a final shot of all four of them together, at peace (as this aligns with Alex’s comments from around a year or so ago that the final shot was all four of them). (I also am not sure it was always supposed to be on a bridge since the foreshadowing in an earlier episode showed Dean, Cas and Sam all in the Roadhouse together).

I believe that script went through countless changes and redrafts, and not even production people or the types that some fandom people claim as their “sources” would even have seen those early scripts, since even Misha never saw it. I believe that these rumours of Dabb never having Cas in his finale and ignoring all Destiel elements likely come from people who only saw later versions, weren’t party to network discussions and felt bitter about the final scripts they did see (being the crappy butchered one that was ultimately filmed). Those “sources” are now spreading rumours to discredit Dabb.

I obviously believe Dabb is a weak ass pushover who either didn’t care enough to fight back, or gave up since he’s been stuck with fucking Bob Singer on his back for years, but I will NEVER believe he didn’t care about the DeanCas love story, because he has been one of the few writers who has championed for it for years. You can’t look back at Dabb’s episodes in earlier seasons and claim he didn’t care. Dabb was a writer whose creative ideas were beaten out of him by an unforgiving Network only concerned about where their future money was coming from. Do I think he gave up too easily? Yes. But I also have one other huge reason for not believing the bullshit about Dabb being this anti-Destiel villain.

Bobo. Because if Bobo truly believed Dabb was gonna fuck that up at the end, I don’t think he would have given us Cas’s love confession to begin with. If he had known it was gonna end like that, I think he would have reconsidered, because had Cas not confessed his love, I don’t think he would have been cut from the finale. Bobo - a gay man, would not have wanted such a horrible message for queer fans being put across in the show he worked so hard on. He started writing that confession scene the day they returned to the writers room. Dabb would have been there, would have seen what he was writing, probably discussed it with him, after all, other episodes were written with the confession in mind. No way was Dabb planning to fuck up the ending knowing what Bobo was giving us. Nope.

Something went very wrong over lockdown. Someone, somewhere up the chain of power caught wind of the confession scene in 15x18, realised that it demanded a resolution which would make Dean Winchester, their protagonist, queer, and pulled the plug. I believe this did not come from a place of homophobia, but of bad business sense.

The CW is constantly trying to win the approval and attention of the one demo group that they seem to fail at getting the most: young straight men. Supernatural was one of their only remaining shows that appeals to young straight men, and Dean Winchester is more often than not the fave character of those young straight men who project onto him. Making Dean Winchester, established Han Solo of Supernatural, queer and in love with his best friend in the finale would have come across as a betrayal to those young straight men. The CW probably feared they would lose that demo group for good, and with a show like Walker starting soon with Jared at the helm, they couldn’t take the risk.

Hence there was probably a whole bunch of back and forth script redrafts with the Network, with Dabb and Singer fighting to make a finale that would appeal to everyone. There was most likely no way that they could bring Cas back without addressing what had already been filmed, because any resolution of that plot would either a. make Dean queer, or b. address it awkwardly by having Dean reject Cas (this storyline would probably have been slammed by critics worse than the finale because it meant addressing it. It might have got the attention of LGBTQ activist groups and caused a bigger shitstorm than what we got). The best option was therefore C. Bury it and Cas, pretend it never happened. Never address it again and distract Dean with other things. Hope that Destiel fans will accept no answer from Dean as ambiguous enough to imagine a future reunion rather than shutting it down with a rejection, and still keep hold of the blissfully ignorant heteronormative straight boys so they can carry over to Walker when it starts.

I also believe (controversially probably) that there was concern that any resolution of Dean and Cas would have overshadowed network darling Jared Padalecki. If Dean and Cas had come together in the finale, with a very clearly textual homosexual reunion, then that would have been all anyone talked about. The reviewers, the critics, the audience, everyone. It would have been nothing but Dean and Cas (and look, if they did think this, they were right, Destiel trending over the US ELECTION.)

So what is the network to do, when they are losing the two stars who would get the most attention from this storyline? The one star they were holding on to and getting his own show, relegated to third place in the finale of the show where he was first on the call sheet? Nope. That’s pretty unacceptable. Even without Walker I can imagine people at all levels side eyeing the Destiel thing over the years. This IS a show about two brothers, and their relationship should be the core relationship, we can’t have one brother pushed aside in the finale to make way for a queer relationship that will get all the attention instead. It was never gonna get approved for this reason ALONE.

At the end of the day, if I look at it from a business perspective, it makes far more sense that the CW shut down Destiel, rather than “oh Dabb never cared and ruined it because he’s an idiot.” The writers cared, and had built on that story over years. But their mistake was leaving any Destiel resolution to the finale. If they had instead gone and got Dean and Cas together in early season 15, then they could have ended it in a way that satisfied everyone. Destiel wouldn’t have threatened pulling focus away from Sam and Dean, and the show could have gone out on a high.

When I lay out all the conspiracy theories, and line them up next to the cold hard facts, the conspiracy theories in some way or another, make more sense. To believe the company line, the narrative we have been fed, is to ignore your own eyes, ears, and memories pre March 2020.

All I’m asking people to do is take a look at the show, the narrative presented in the show, and the information presented above. I’m not telling you to believe what I’ve written here, half of which is just my own opinion. I’m asking you to ask yourselves if it makes sense to you. Because it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied.

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