#it just doesn't stop him from wanting to take care of her too

[nanamiscocksleeve]

heyy ray! first things first, i LOVE your writing. that's all i have to say like i literally go nuts every time

sooo this is not a kinktober request and i know you probably have TOO many things to write lol butttt if it's in your taste i'd really like to see your take on the lads man reacting to their lady not wanting to have sex because she hasn't shaved while being away on a mission or something and is feeling insecure about that ig???

and! if i can ask to be the little moon emoji🌙 then i'd like to, please! as always thanks for all the stories you're aMAZING

Hi there! Yes you can be moon anon. Thank you for the kind words! It makes me happy that people are enjoying my work.

Soooo it's actually such a coincidence that you mentioned the body hair thing because I have a story wip for Zayne involving that particular area and hair 😆😆😆 Keep an eye for it btw!

As for the general reaction of the men, I genuinely think all of them are mature enough to handle a little hair and they're not bothered by it. This is how I think this would go.

Sylus: He'll look at reader quite suspiciously. He knows she's not on her period and after trying to get an answer from her, he'll stop when she tells him to quit asking. For a little while anyway. They have a shared home delivery app and when reader makes a purchase later that night he sees all the hair removal products and instantly makes the connection. He'll seek her out, tell her he doesn't care and that his kitten can't be a kitten if there's no hair on her pussy 🤭. When reader protests, he'll pull her close and tell her he missed her and if it really bothers her, she can get a bikini wax tomorrow. He'll even pay for it, but he's needy for her NOW and nothing in his view can change how beautiful she is, hair or no hair.

Xavier: Will assume she's on her period and brings over stuff for her like tea, chocolate, and some selfcare stuff like scented candles and face masks. Reader will be amused at Xavier's assumption and after a few shy moments, she'll tell him in a very vague way that she feels unkempt and that's why she doesn't want to have sex. Xavier thinks unkempt = hasn't bathed and asks if maybe she wants to take a quick shower together. At this point reader shakes her head and admits that she hasn't had time to self-groom down there because of her mission. Things finally click in Xavier's head and he'll ask if he can look and if he doesn't think it looks unkempt then they have should have sex. Of course Xavier gets pussy drunk the minute he sees it and they end up having sex.

Rafayel: This man will straight up pout if you tell him you don't want to have sex. And he'll try to guilt you as well. He'll say you must not love him anymore or that you're hiding a secret from him. Then finally in exasperation, reader will ask him if he wants to fuck a shag carpet because that's what it looks like down there. And of course Rafayel, with his sarcasm and playfullness will say something like "A shag rug for a pussy? I've never heard of such a thing I have to see it now!" And you'll have to show him before he throws another fishy tantrum. When he looks at it he'll sigh dramatically and say "It's not even close to a shag carpet, you exaggerate everything. Now that it's out in the open, let's just have sex."

Zayne: Without giving too much away from my fic...Zayne doesn't care. He's a doctor. He's seen his fair share of hair on body parts and isn't fazed. Also, the vibe I get from them seems to be more of a long-term couple and they've seen each other through their ups and downs so reader will straight up tell him she feels self-conscious about having sex because she hasn't shaved. Zayne will say he respects her decision but removing the hair can cause ingrowns and itching and he doesn't want her to do it incorrectly in order to have sex as soon as possible. He convinces her that they should have sex at least once before she removes it because there's no telling how she might feel after the exhaustion of removing all the hair. You can remove it on your own time but right now he wants you and let's face it, you've popped pimples off his back and he's seen you trimming your toenails, are you really going to let a little hair stop you from riding this man? 🤭🤭🤭

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[ennn]

Hello :) I really enjoy reading your analysis on AAA!

What conversations do you think Agatha and Rio had between “because the truth is too awful “ and “what Billy wants is a violation”?

The shift between topics was so abrupt. What would they talk about to make Agatha want to make a deal to never see Rio again?

Hello Anon! Thank you for reading 💚 Okay so I think there's 2 parts to your question here, which is (a) why the change in topics between the conversation and (b) how it leads up to Agatha's deal.

Let's take a step back a bit. If we look at the first conversation, it already starts out about the Problem of Billy right?

And the whole Billy issue only exists in the context of what happened with Nicky. If Nicky had never been a thing, Agatha and Rio and their dynamic would be entirely different. Nicky was the breaking point of their relationship – a relationship with love and lust but also wrapped up in their opposing natures.

The conversation quickly escalates, shifting from Billy to their history and relationship. Rio, direct as ever, airs what must be a long-long-simmering grievance:

Rio: No one in history has had special treatment like you. Agatha: You call what you did "special treatment"? You gave me nothing. You took. Rio: And that's usually your move right.

Now the anger and frustration is starting to boil and Agatha tries to push past and get away from Rio – but Rio stops her and tries to deescalate this argument.

In other words – and to address your ask – the topic shifts because Rio is trying to have a conversation and not fight. Rio knows that Nicky is Agatha's deepest scar, and Agatha is a runner when she doesn't have control.

You can see Rio taking a second, watching Agatha, her tone softening as she asks the question:

Why do you let them believe those things about you, hm? About Nicky?

I think Rio tries to deescalate because she does need Agatha's help with the Billy situation: she can't kill him or reap his soul on her own. It's not a thing Rio is happy about or wants but she's got a job to do.

BUT in this show things are usually complicated: more than one thing can be true at the same time: I think Rio also cares about Agatha and wants to understand why.

After all it was Rio who told the group in episode 5 that Agatha killed her original coven because they tried killing her first. Agatha doesn't bother defending herself, if anything she plays up being this villain.

I mean, Rio loves this serial killer right. It's not the murder part of Agatha's reputation Rio cares about. Rio also has the unique insight of knowing exactly what happened to Nicky. This rumour that Agatha doesn't do anything to discourage seems to not only be an insult to Agatha but the memory of Nicky.

And then in a rare moment of vulnerability, Agatha decides to reveal her truth to Rio.

Because the truth is too awful

I read this moment as Rio trying to reach out and Agatha deciding to give an honest answer. Which again, is a precious rare thing coming from her.

I don’t think any transitional dialogue from this to the other conversation is really important, not as much as the emotional place this first conversation ends with, which allows for the second one about a potential collaboration to happen.

Also like, what do you say to something like that? Because wow there is a lot to unpack there.

Agatha’s implying that what Rio gave her and Nicky is worse than her sacrificing Nicky for power. That she isn’t trying to be cruel, she truly can’t see the gift of time Rio gave them. That she sees herself somehow responsible for what happened to Nicky. That she doesn’t just blame Rio, she blames herself.

If I had to plot out some kind of transition between these two conversations, I would do something like:

Let the silence after the admission drag on a bit. Rio looks concerned but doesn't say anything in the moment.

Agatha takes the opportunity to walk away. Rio doesn't stop her but follows. Agatha lets her.

After a moment of quiet walking, Agatha asks about when Rio knew about the Road hex and they compare notes for a bit (Rio probably throwing shade at the weird nature here). This time lets Agatha build up her walls again.

They sit down and talk about the point of the hex, which then nicely leads into their second conversation, starting with what Billy wants.

In their second conversation, what's interesting here how very reluctant Rio is about asking for Agatha's help. She knows Agatha and hates being in this position so much she doesn't even want to say it, letting Agatha piece together what she needs.

It must truly be a rare instance that Agatha has this kind of leverage over Rio, over Death.

Because Agatha reacts like a shark scenting blood in the water. She barely hides it.

This goes back to your question: Why does Agatha make such an deal that hurts Rio so badly?

My read is that Agatha basically reacts to this rush of power over Rio the same way she badly – almost instinctively – reacted to Alice presenting her with her magic:

She takes and takes and takes.

Because Rio's always been unstoppable but now Agatha can stop her. This is what's she's been hungering for.

That sense of helplessness she felt moments ago when she thought she had to let Billy go – like she let Nicky go – now turns to something with teeth.

You can see Agatha literally take a second to calculate the most cruel thing she can say to Rio to hurt her, to deny and reject her love.

Now that's the emotional side of things. On a more logical level, Agatha goes into scheming mode. This is like muscle memory for her at this point, she won't deny an opportunity to get ahead.

So she doesn't deny Rio's ask. She makes the price of her handing over Billy so awful to Rio it has maybe a chance of stopping her from her mission, or buying more time at least. For so much of her life Agatha has justified murder and lies and the worst behaviour with the need to survive and protect what's hers.

Once again: Calculated move, bad at math.

Because Rio accepts the deal. She's so wounded she doesn't even push back even a little. She reacts so badly to Agatha's rejection, to her taking advantage of this opportunity, that she gives into being the villain Agatha sees her as.

[pricegouge]

nik falls in love with you the first time he meets you, i think

when you first pull up behind the old beater truck you think nothing of it, inspecting the rusted out tailgate with a critical eye. you note the dirt above the wheel well disinterestedly and move on, climbing out of your low coup with a sigh at the bite of frost in the air. small cars were great in that it didn't take long to fill the tank, which meant less time spent in the frigid open air by the gas pump, but awful in that a small tank meant more frequent stops, like a kid after a theater soda.

you've only just selected your fuel grade when the owner of the truck sidles up, resting a fresh tall coffee from the shop on the roof as he blocks off the pump, sets about wiping his windshields with the squeegee. you wonder if the old girl even has windshield washer fluid in her.

it's hard to avoid watching him work. he's handsome. burly. well dressed, though the clothes themselves looked nearly as old and ragged as his truck. he catches you watching interestedly when your pump chunks loudly, tank full, but you're too interested in the way he leans casually over the truck bed to reach the middle panel of the back window.

(can you be expected to look away when you note he's tall enough to reach without issue? the soft roll of his diaphragm bulging over the bed?)

the man works his palm back across his slicked hair, smoothing it unnecessarily. his eyes are bright as he eyes you over and you take it unflinchingly, emboldened by the obvious interest you see there.

until his eyes rake over the hood of your car and the corner of his mouth drags into a smirk, one you've seen too many times before.

"it's a base model," you interrupt before he can even speak, but the man is unperturbed.

"i see that," he hedges in a thick russian accent. odd, what with the old beater and the local plates. "twenty ninteen?"

you're taken aback, but only slightly, your car's make notorious enough to garner attention, though not usually enough to keep it past 'it's the cheap model'. "Yeah," you concede, finally remembering to return the nozzle to its holster. you reassess the truck in front of you, once written off as the product of poverty or carelessness, you can see now that it's taken years of care to even get such an old beast to stay alive this long. it's a breath of fresh air, really. the kind of Car Guys your little speedster usually attracted were self-centered little twerps more worried about spoilers than... whatever the important bits of machinery were that kept a car moving, but here was a full grown man taking note. maybe the cheap little coup wasn't so bad after all...?

"you'll want to keep an eye on that timing chain."

"pardon?"

the man just laughs as he straightens out. you wait patiently for him to walk around the hood and return the squeegee. standing much closer to you now, he wipes his hands off on his jeans and you note his cracked knuckles, callused but well-suited for the cold. "the timing chain. sobach'ye der'mo, that car. does it like to shift when the engine's cold?"

you remember running late the other morning, the way the car had shook when you'd approached the stop sign at the end of your street after starting and dashing. "no."

his hair barely moves when he shakes his head, product too thick along his roots. it should maybe gross you out but it doesn't, just lends itself to his specifically eastern european charm. "it will start with cam shaft error codes - probably around seventy five thousand miles. don't listen. take it to me, da?" the card he proffers is simply designed, but effective. his name is nikolai and he owns a local shop - one you pass daily, actually. you run by it in your memories now, re-evaluate the classic models that proudly line the lot with a fresh eye.

"and what if i'm past that mileage?" you ask slyly, pocketing his card.

(breast pocket, hoping he notes your finger bosts no ring as you do so.)

nikolai pulls a deep sigh, expression the very image of concern when he informs you of your dire situation. "then you should bring it in straight away. these problems... let us just hope it's not too late."

your laugh is a bubbly thing, too bright, but nikolai doesn't know you from adam so you play it off as best you can. there's no hiding the shiver you emit when the next strong gust of wind rolls though, however, and your companion urges you back to the the driver's door insistantly with a heavy hand at the small of your back. he apologizes for keeping you even though he didn't and waits to make sure you'll call him before closing the door after you. he makes no attempt to hide the way he listens to your engine when you start and you don't know what else to do but shrug and wave when he looks back at you disapprovingly at whatever it is he hears.

stuck behind him, you watch as he clambers back into his truck, trying not to be distracted by the way his hammies test the inseam of his jeans when he makes the climb up - no runners, no lift kit. old-school.

you're still lost in your day dreams when his engine turns over with a purr, sighing wistfully when his tail lights turn on. it takes a moment to register the picture, the asymmetrical vision before you. you have enough sense to honk before opening your door, grabbing his attention so he doesn't drive off before you can collect his coffee from his roof.

you take the time to read the scrawled name on the side as he lowers the window - a task, what with the hand crank.

"do you spell it with a 'c'?" you ask, turning the cup so the americanized version of his shortened name faces him. when he simply replies negatively with a soft smile, you can't help but return the expression.

"thought not. just asking so i know how to save you in my phone."

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) LOVE BELT.

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: MYOSOTIS (FORGET ME NOT).

a/n: [fem!reader] AHHHHH FIRST BLLK POST!!!!! LASTEST FIXTATION!!!! hopefully not too ooc huhu

— characters: isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

isagi yoichi ; love belt - jonghyun, yunha

ties your shoes for you!!!!! doesn't care if it holds back the group or how long it makes them stop for. double knot, never too tight (the occasional times my guy friends tie my laces i swear i lose circulation in my feet 😔).

embodiment of a beabadoobee song! hes such a sweetheart (apart from on the field) n' kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips or on your eyelid, holds you a little higher than your hip and hugs you with his arms supporting your back from beneath.

your mama loves him more than you do, i fear (ᵕ—ᴗ—) bro fr pulled up to your house with a rose for your mama and a mug for your dad, because who is he to pull up to his girlfriend's house without gifts for your parents? (with intentions of getting to know what they're like so the wedding goes smooth) how can you expect your mama not to fall for him after he offers to help wash the dishes?

learns all the little things you like, has a note on his phone with your fruit tea and coffee order. knows what type of materials you like, especially to the girls who have sensory issues 🫡. he always has you in mind, buying hoodies and shirts that not only he likes, but you like

in conclusion, spectacular gimme 14 more of em'

kunigami rensuke ; no. 1 party anthem - arctic monkeys

ALWAYS THE FIRST TO INITIATE. always plans dates first. has anniversary ideas months prior. he has your order memorized and makes sure the date won't ruin your latest set of nails.

holds your leg when you bounce it ! very worried when you do. always looks around for a little. is it cold? are there weird guys?

he's so boyfriend i just wanna kiss him, tells you to wear whatever you want because he can fight (#needthat)! kunigami one of the most boyfriend in the show pre wildcard! ദ്ദി(•̀ ᴗ - ) ☆

do you guys know that trend when there's a girl then her boyfriend comes in and swoops her away (or is it just me HELP hopefully i don't sound crazy)?? but he does it so effortlessly omg. didn’t spend that long in the gym for nothing

mornings are the hardest because his diligence and discipline for the gym are out of the roof. but he’s not completely heartless! kunigami feels really bad as you sleep uncomfortably without him, tossing and turning just missing the grasp that once held you. worst bit is when you wake up the same time as him, but you’re a lot sleepier, resulting in you weakly catching his wrist. breaks his heart whenever he has to go and presses a chaste kiss to your temple >3<

holds your waist on public transport. smells like axe body spray /hj

nagi seishirou ; no one noticed - the marías

BLANKET HOG!!!!!! unfortunately, you're always cold because sometimes you can find yourself freezing your toes off in the middle of the night because this little sloth feeds off warmth. if not wrapping the entire blanket around himself, is practically on top of you with his nose nestled in the crook of your neck and his lips basically on your collarbone as you run your hands through white locks (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

fiddles with the hem of your shirt or loose drawstrings on your pants. his hand in the pocket nearest to your butt, fidgets with your rings and knows which ones go on which finger by heart.

very very very immersed when you paint your nails or get them done. but nagi takes a good 5 minutes to stare at them (especially if there's charms on them) and a girl would be confused. but in reality, he just really likes them (but, he'd prefer if they'd run through his hair instead).

doesn't get the stuff on tall shelves on purpose SUPER SENIOR ALERT WEE WOO WEEWOO!!!!!!! either because its "too much of a hassle" or because he wants to get a reaction out of you (cruel)

falls asleep in movies sooo quickly its adorable. 30 minutes into the movie his head is on your shoulder. scared, due to his tall nature that he'd get neck pain when he wakes up, you have to gently pat him awake (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ and he'll ask you to carry him (???)

reo mikage ; love maze - BTS

zip up your jackets, wraps your scarves. holds your hands when your cold and rubs them with his!!!!

reo's favourite place to kiss you is your hand. craves the intimacy of it all. as his princess what the hell are you doing without a kiss to your hand before every door you open? (you don't remember the last time you opened a door before you started dating reo)

apart from the soccer club, most likely plays in a band as well. occasional school-related gigs here and there and a few enjoyable get-togethers with his friends to just play whatever. watch his performances! (SOOO cheesy!!!! says "this is for you, [name]" before he starts his pasilyo cover.)

cooks' breakfast on hard weeks. when everything seems to be falling apart, your boyfriend will always be there to help you pick up the pieces, even if it's just the little things. when you're sick GYATT DAHH will you be feeling better in days!!!!! he'll keep distance but won't hesitate to move a strand of hair from your mouth as he spoon feeds you or place the back of his hand on your forehead. but also, doesn't mind being sick if it meant you were ok.

promise rings promise rings promise rings. did i mention promise rings? its either the crazy big, expensive diamond or a simple one in silver that has his initial on the inside <33

[dark-konohagakure2]

sephiroth forcing himself on a girlie thats too shy to talk to him?

tw: noncon, power imbalance, size difference, humiliation, degradation, semi-public sex, misogyny, victim blaming, verbal abuse

All characters depicted are 18+

Sephiroth is well aware of his little fanclub of swooning fangirls who are all head over heals in love with him, he doesn't hate it, but he certainly doesn't like it either, he treats their existence with the same passive indifference that one would treat ants on a sidewalk, uncaring if they are there or not, Sephiroth has about as many love confessions under his belt as he does inches of hair on his head, but none of these women interest him very much.

That is the case for a while until his keen senses pick up on someone following him, he initially assumes it's just Hojo coming to pester him again, or Zack coming to ask him more idiotic questions, but instead he catches a glimpse of a girl peeking at him from around the corner, only to quickly hide when he turns around. Being a trained SOLIDER from birth, Sephiroth immediately assumes hostile intent from her, what other reason would she have to follow him whilst concealing her presence?

He'll almost immediately confront her, although not in a brutish manner, no, a man like Sephiroth is one to use cold intimidation over such savage tactics. He'll corner the little spy rather quickly, placing his gloved hand on the wall next to her head as he asks her what exactly she thinks she's doing. He'll watch as she flounders about like a fish on land, struggling to get a single word out as her face turns a bright red, that when Sephiroth will notice a very interesting looking note clutched to her chest.

Sephiroth will pluck the note from her hands the moment he sees it, holding it out of her reach with his superior height, ignoring her protests and pleas as he begins to read it, sneering at the flowery words and shoddy handwriting, it's pitiful how little effort she put into confessing her silly feelings to one as important as Sephiroth. He'll make it clear that her little crush is nothing but delusional wishful thinking, but that won't stop him from taking advantage of it, and of her.

"Oh... How cute. Did you really think a few scribbles on paper would be enough to win me over? How pathetic. But I suppose I can give you what you so clearly want..."

He'll pay no mind to her protests as he rips her shirt open right on the spot, Sephiroth doesn't see why she's protesting, she said she likes him, and now she doesn't? Are all woman this indecisive? Sephiroth has never really understood women, or men either for that matter, he's always had trouble understanding those beneath him, but none of that matters to him now, all that matters is giving this cute little stalker exactly what she deserves.

Sephiroth isn't gentle with her at all, it's just not in his nature to treat anyone with kindness, not even an innocent young woman who's only crime is having a crush. He'll cover her mouth with a large leather clad hand as his hips snap into her's from behind, fucking her just around the corner of the hallway and in the blind spot of the many security cameras in Shinra's hallways.

Despite forcing her to be silent, Sephiroth won't do the same, instead he'll whisper venomous insults into her ear, telling her that she's no different than his other admirers, that this is the most attention any man would deign to give her, and how this is what she wanted from him, so she should be grateful, he's practically a saint for humoring her pitifully misguided affection towards him, an affection that definitely won't replace after this encounter, instead being replaced with fear.

He'll be finished with her rather quickly, as if his body itself is in a hurry to be done with her, Sephiroth won't care if he cums directly inside her, even if he doesn't knock her up, she should be grateful for his attention and his seed, he doesn't give that to just anyone, only the shy little brats who don't know how to talk to people like a big girl.

"Hmpf, I have no more use for you. Now go back to your little hovel like a good girl, unless you want more of my attentions, that is..."

Sephiroth will watch her leave without another word, showing faint amusement at the sight of her limping away, her pussy leaking his semen as she does. He finds her very amusing, in fact he might even consider using his high standing in Shinra to get her alone again.

[candyeager]

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different. 

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous. 

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls. 

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths. 

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have. 

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What the fuck do I have to do to make you understand that you don't belong here?"

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw. 

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you. 

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer." 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two. 

What a fucking downgrade. 

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours. 

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to. 

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind—the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath. 

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"How does it feel? Hmm?" His voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer. 

"First time's always the best." He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones. "You'll feel good soon... or maybe you'll just cry harder. Who knows?"

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs. "Let it take over... Forget about him. Forget everything. Just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like a lost puppy." 

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more. 

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment. 

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat. 

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired. 

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie. 

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back. 

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?" 

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has. 

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you. 

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back. 

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done. 

"Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away. 

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling. 

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him. 

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you. 

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands. 

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts. 

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts. 

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity. 

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest. 

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes. 

"The hell are you crying for? Stop that now!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them. 

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, stop crying. You're acting like a kid." 

But even his sharp words don't reach you. 

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face. 

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed—like he should have protected you from whatever caused them. 

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone. 

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today. 

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again. 

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there. 

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long. 

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit. 

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be. 

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside. 

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice. 

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over. 

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic. 

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening. 

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted." 

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done yet," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further. 

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point. 

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him. 

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills. 

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate. 

"This shit's the real deal. Remember the other stuff I gave you earlier? That was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just leave."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out the door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet. 

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, are you gonna choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his. 

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters. 

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey. 

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers. 

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened. 

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you. 

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right? 

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured. 

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements. 

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light. 

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what. 

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in. 

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest. 

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk. 

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will. 

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this? 

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance. 

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin. 

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries. 

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @meowww1041 @kiasnotforever (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[scrapingby]

There's one character trait from Rhun that we have seen more than any other and it just breaks my heart.

Like sure, they are abrasive (Wer? Wer gefragt hat?!) and they are/used to be snarky (that scene when they were kids about the monster under the bed). And there is a whole lot to be said about Dark and White and Grey respectively.

But mostly they are just so very soft.

Roughly by point of order:

They worry about the kids that are being affected by the sweets that Klaus and Fips are giving to them. They also appear to feel strongly about people being influenced for the worse and being taken advantage of. (Weil ihr sie eh nur benutzt. Ihr Unwissenden habt schon genug Seelen beschmutzt!)

They make sure Ray knows that his efforts are known and appreciated (even though they immediately follow this up by telling him about the mean things that are being said about him, but even that is said to declare that those people are wrong).

While searching for Dark they take the time to make sure LurkyGirl is okay.

They make sure not to hurt the streamer (Papaplatte I think?) that Dark is using to hold Rhun off.

Yeah, they go along with Oskars plan to capture Dark. They were desperate (and I would guess not for themselves but for what it would mean for the world if they couldn't continue to due their job) getting weaker by the minute and all other attempts had failed. And the moment they realized that the chains were hurting Dark they stopped. Stopped and freed Dark and the telling Dark that they wanted it to be on both of their terms to merge again.

They worry about Oskar, some guy they have only known for a short time. When confronted with his betrayal and real plan, they don't react with hate or declarations of revenge but with concern about what their actions will cause.

When Pete, Joon and Ju find them, their first reaction is neither happiness nor relief. Instead they see Fips and all they can wonder sadly what happened to him.

They don't even rush Joon at first, even though they are currently living through the worst pain possible because they are still chained. Only when Joon is finished with his tale do they (Rhun and Dark) tell him to finally free him. And the best part? They listened. Because when they tried to send them home, they opened a door to North Korea. Because Joon told them that this is where he was born.

They make sure to save both Rainer and Joon, because they can actually do something for them.

Once they are at the hotel their first action is to return all their workers to normal and send them to safety.

They try to do the same with Joon and Rainer and then they loose their cool (and who wouldn't? They have guarded Eos face for hundreds of years. They were only just betrayed and had to spend the past whoever-knows-how-many days in unimaginable pain. And then such an obvious lie? -> side note: I hc that Rhun tries to be cautious but they are still very naive and always end up believing in the good of the people. This often ends badly for them and is one of the reasons they hate when others are being taken advantage of. It's too close to home). But then they let Joon and Rainer stay (Joon did say that they came in the hope of being safe at the hotel) and even take them to their most closely guarded secret.

Also, when Eos takes over and that energy blast sent Rhun flying? I think the only reason Joon wasn't also hurt was because Rhun was somehow protecting him with their magic.

I also need to mention that that scene where Eos is about to kill Rhun and Rhun doesn't say anything? Just bares their teeth and braces for it? That scene hurts on a different level.

And finally: Rhun not only saving Julia but also taking the time to (bluntly) explain that she has to be more careful. They even try to comfort her and help her deal with her fear! And then they make sure that Julia will never get lost again by giving her the Zahnseide (which going by the old Zahnfee song is probably not the first time this has happened. They did sing that the Zahnseide was being used in very unvonential ways).

Just.

I love Rhun so much.

[strangelysamantha]

break up with your gf ❀

steve harrington x reader.

warnings: infidelity, alcohol/drunk steve.

words: 1,447.

summary: in which steve has trouble in paradise, he goes to you for advice, and while your feelings are prominent, you're unsure of how steve feels about you. you urge him to break up with his girlfriend, since he is clearly very unhappy.

request: yes! from pm!

a/n: i need a speech to text setting except it just reads my mind instead. like and reblog if you enjoy. maybe drop a follow. asks are open, and i have alot of great stories in my drafts. thank you as always. <3

masterlist link

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you saw them in the hallways at school every day. you dreaded it. he sneaks up behind her, lifting her in the air. spinning her around, his hands tight on her waist. he'd spin her around, his full attention on her. the other students rushing to class, and all he'd care about is the brief five minutes he'd get to see her pretty face. small giggles would escape her lips, pure bliss commencing. he would pull her into a deep kiss, she happily kissed him back, her hands tangling in his brown fluffy hair. it was nauseating to watch. seeing them so entranced with each other, you slammed your locker shut, heading to class.

you didn't know why you couldn't leave him alone, let him be happy. have his little romance flourish and have him be satisfied, but something inside you craved his touch, his attention, a few times a month he would get too drunk. immediately his contact would appear on your phone, drunken words filled your screen. he was so sappy, talking about how his girlfriend didn't satisfy him enough. how he needed someone else that would please him fully. he asked if you could stop by to talk, while you hesitated, worried for a set up, you knew you would have regretted not going.

you knock twice, and he swings the door open. "thanks for coming." he got out of the way, welcoming you inside. you hurried through the door, the house was dim, most lights were off since it was so late. he led you to his room, gently shutting his door behind him. "why do you always come when i call?" he asks. his breath reeked of bourbon, and you started to wonder why you even gave him the time of day. "if you need someone, i will be here for you," is all you could say. he nodded.

"she just doesn't get me, yknow?" you follow along, glancing around the room. "it's like she wants me to be better, but in return i'm changing myself for her. she has me doing stuff i would have never done before," you tsk, "why stay if you are unhappy?" he ponders for a moment, "because," he pauses, collecting his thoughts. you wait silently, crossing your legs together. you mouth forms a straight line as he still hadn't given a reason for staying with her. "steve?" he looks back at you, halting his repetitive pacing. "i don't know why i stay, i guess i want it to work out..." he sits beside you on the bed. "you need to break up with your girlfriend." he stays silent after your comment.

you sigh, he places his head on your lap, and you run your hands through his hair. "if you're this unhappy now, how do you think you'll be happy down the line?" he takes a deep breath, your words settling ease over him. "i don't think she even loves me." his tone is laced with sadness, and your heart aches at his puppy dog eyes. "steve, you are very handsome. super funny, and charming. you will be able to find someone who truly deserves your time and energy." he closes his eyes, his hand wraps around your thigh. "what if i hurt her feelings?" you place your hand on his cheek. "but if you stay with her, knowing you aren't fully in it, and she finds out your leading her on, she might hurt more." he nods, appreciating your advice. he lays quietly in your lap; you look down at him. you notice his sleepy eyes and prominent eye bags. "you need rest, honey."

he moves to lay in the middle of the bed. you lift the blanket up, tucking him in. you get up to leave and he reaches for your hand. "stay." you nod, slowly sliding into bed with him. your nerves wash away when he cuddles you, spooning. he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you as close as he can manage. you close your eyes, your mind racing. despite all the times he talked about leaving, and moving on, he never actually did it. this was the third time you had went to steve for support, he'd tell you everything wrong, and any advice you'd give, he'd listen intently, and then immediately do the opposite.

despite how badly you wanted steve, you didn't want to always be a drunken late-night call. you actually liked him, and it was starting to feel like he didn't like you, let alone care about you. you settle into bed with him, you try to clear your cloudy mind. the sound of his small snores allows you to crawl out of his bed. you slip out of his room, headed to the front door. you make it outside, getting in your car and heading back home.

the first thing you see when you open social media is an anniversary post from steves girlfriend. your heart drops to your stomach, you always blamed yourself after going to steve. regardless of the fact he was the one to initiate, you still felt bad afterwards. you click your phone off, already having enough with what you saw. you lay back on your bed, your phone suddenly rings, and its steves contact. you take an unsteady breath, reluctantly answering the call.

"hey." he breathlessly states. "hello," you softly mutter back. "i took your advice. i broke up with her." your heart speeds up at his words. "really? how did it go?" he sighs, "it went okay. she wasn't happy, but she was glad i ended it before things got super serious." you nod, although he couldn't see that on his end. "i'm proud of you, steve." your words have his heart beating out of his chest. "i think i was pretty distracted during the relationship with her," you're puzzled by his words, "what do you mean?" he laughs nervously, "well, i'd really like to try things between us. so many times, i called you, because in the back of my head, i wanted us to be together." his words were the words you've been waiting for, but now hearing them you couldn't help but feel like a rebound.

"steve, i'm not going to be a rebound." you remark, and your tone hurts his feelings. "it won't be like that, i promise. you've showed me so much. you've allowed me to be vulnerable and my authentic self. you make me feel like a good person, without having to change myself in the process." you smile at his confession. "that means a lot steve, and i really like you. are you sure the wound isn't too fresh?" you question, scared for his potential response. "well, i know what i want. and she said she had found someone else too." you're stunned at this, "she moved on already too?" he smirks, "yeah, i guess she wasn't feeling the love either. do you want to come over?" he questions. "yeah, i'll be over soon, okay?" you stand up, grabbing your shoes. "okay, great. i'll see you soon." you say goodbye before ending the call.

you approach steves house, he's waiting outside for you. you walk up to his porch, and he immediately pulls you into a hug, you wrap your arms around his neck. he wraps his arm around your waist, squeezing you. you both pull away. he looks up at the stars, and you follow his gaze. he holds your hand, "can i take you on a date?" you smile brightly, "i would love that steve." he grins, "sleepover?" you bite your lip, "why not." you follow him to his room again, getting deja vu from being here a few hours earlier.

"thank you for sticking by me." he rubs your back, "of course, i do have something to admit though." he frowns at this but urges you to continue. "it was really hard seeing you two in the hallways." he stares into your eyes, "i'm sorry, i didn't even think about that." you shake your head, ensuring he knew it wasn't his fault. "i'm just happy to be with you here now," he laughs, "i wanted to say something sooner, but i was also so scared of the breakup to blow up in my face." you nod, understandingly, "i know, but aren't you relieved now?" you're curious to see how he is feeling.

"very relieved now," you two lay back in his bed, cuddling. "i couldn't have gotten the courage without you." he leans in for a kiss, this one being full of love and need. "what do you want to do?" you stare into his eyes, entranced by his beauty. "i just wanna lay here with you." you giggle, "that can be arranged." he pulls you closer to him, and the two of you lie there embraced with each other.

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #3

What if... SMG3 had the courage to confess his feelings for SMG4?

[more below cut]

No context this time, the only thing I will say is that it will be a long one ;)

"Before it may be too late."

SMG3 stared at the ceiling, his fingers fidgeting with the trim of his bed sheets. Those words haven't stopped bothering him for hours. An answer to his question. Not of "would've" or "should've", but "could've".

SMG4. No, Four.

But it'll never be your Four.

It was already a mess when he realized he had feelings for the blue idiot, and now, of all things, he wanted to confess.

If he doesn't reciprocate, will it leave things awkward between us?

He turned to his side and patted Eggdog, who was sleeping peacefully, letting out a defeated sigh. What was he supposed to think? The way they talked, the slightest touch of their hand. It should mean something, right?

What if it's too good to be true?

Three looked over to the shelf that stood on the other side of his room, to a familiar picture frame. Terrence. His first son, first friend. He cared for him so much, and he had to say goodbye. To save the world.

And since when did a villain deserve love?

Months, years have passed. He earned a fresh start, a new home. Eggdog. His role in the Crew, his role as Meme Guardian. And...

Once a villain, always a villain.

...Right. Eggman just had to come in and remind him that Three was a villain. Admittedly, it did feel good to create some havoc. That was until he was tasked to kill Four. And... Four may have believed him when he said he might've thought about the idea itself. Of course, it wasn't true but...

What makes you think he could ever love you after what you did to him?

Well, hey, if the ping-pong game inside his head would let him sleep, that would be great, thank you very much. Not that he could shove it back in his mind again as he thought back to his past. There was indeed one moment; the one he prided himself on when he was a villain and the same one he would rather forget now.

The Youtube Remote.

Oof, it was something alright. It was when he was taken seriously, when he was an actual threat. Perhaps if the Crew failed to take him down, he would've gotten what he wanted. Heh, if only his past self could see him now. Three wouldn't care, he found out what he actually needed. Even so, he's still SMG3.

As he dozes off, one person comes to mind. The one who saw how he grown from his past, who gave him advice earlier today.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Three was going around the near-empty cafe, a small tray in hand. Just as he set a cup down, Four called out to him. Four waves and said his farewell, thanking him for the latte. Three did the same before he accidentally bumped against the table close by. Fortunately, nothing spilled. But Three did earn a giggle from Four. If only Four knew how much his presence lights up Three's world. His shooting star.

Four was long gone but Three's eyes were still glued to where he once was.

Melony: "Are you okay, SMG3?"

Well, it seems he wasn't that good at hiding his crush. Also because Melony was sitting at the table Three just bumped into. Three reassured her that he was fine.

Oh boy, the Crew. They suspected that he had a crush on someone. And ever since "Girls' Night", he might've slipped up a confirmation to the girls, only referring to Four as "That Person". I mean, could you even blame him? The girls were so kind to invite him to one of their exclusive sleepovers, welcoming him with open arms. He felt strangely comfortable sharing this with them. And they didn't judge, promising to not tell a word to the other boys. Melony was there too.

Three looked down at her table to see her Axol plush sitting nearby. Indeed, he felt bad for her after Axol was gone, they weren't able to have the relationship they could've wanted. That loss, he understood it well with what happened to Terrence. But he was impressed by how strong Melony was in handling it all. You could almost say he was proud.

Melony: "It's about 'Them', right?" SMG3: "Well, no. I mean..." [*sighs*] "...yeah." Melony: "Do you love them?" SMG3: "I've literally risked my life for them. Of course, I do. But... I know they don't feel the same." [*picks up an empty plate from the table*] Melony: "How do you know?" SMG3: [*stops, flabbergasted*] "Wha...? It isn't that easy, Mel, I can risk my life all I want for them but I'm not going to risk... this. Besides, I'm sure someone better would come along and treat them well, more than I can offer. I'm content with what we have now, and that's enough for me."

A pause. They were lucky to be the only ones in the cafe but it only made the silence almost unbearable.

SMG3, defeated: "Here's your receipt. Enjoy your drink." [*turns to leave*] Melony: "Whenever Axol and I hung out..." [*SMG3 stops*] "I felt like we understood each other, even though we haven't said anything about it. I cared for him as much as he cared for me. I felt safe, loved. But then... that happened. Maybe we could've dated if we had the time. Sooner if we just talked." [*SMG3 turns to see Melony's bittersweet smile*] "Don't make the same mistake as we did. Tell SMG4 how you feel before it may be too late." SMG3: [*shocked*] "How did...?" Melony: [*giggles*] "It takes one to know one. And if it doesn't work out either way, know that your friends are still here for you."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

His phone alarm goes off, stirring him awake. Any doubt he had before, it somehow vanished overnight. "Before it may be too late." Melony was right. Who knows what could happen tomorrow. He faced worse things before, they fought off eldritch monsters for memes' sake. He could handle this. Eggdog nuzzled his hand, prompting Three to give his son head scratches.

SMG3: "It's now or never, Eggdog... Could you stay by me, just in case?"

Eggdog lets two encouraging barks, giving Three a bit of comfort.

Just as he does every morning, Three sets up the tables and chairs. The coffee maker set, the clean dishes are ready to go. Finally, Three stands behind the counter, looking at the second hand on the clock.

4...3...2...1...

Right on cue, Four comes in with his laptop.

SMG4: "'Morning SMG3, the usual for me please." [*head over to his favorite table*] SMG3: [*taking out the milk*] "And when are you going to pick something different?" SMG4: "Oh, c'mon, I'm not getting special treatment for being your most loyal customer anymore?" SMG3: "Hmph, and a little bluejay told me you didn't like coffee way before I opened my cafe." SMG4: [*shrugs*] "What can I say? I like the way you make them."

SMG3 shakes his head fondly as he prepares the order, one he memorized by heart: one Cyanide Supreme Latte with ten shots of expresso and five spoons of sugar. All in the usual blue mug with constellation decals. Oh, and not to forget the latte art. It was what Four always ordered and it was the reason why Three started doing latte art in the first place.

That blue meme lord was always curious about what new art he made, and that fact never failed to warm Three's heart. While working on the order, they did their usual talk: memes, streaming, and video editing. A bit of banter here and there.

SMG4 usually works in the Castle but there were moments when Four brought his work here in the cafe. At least, he isn't in his room all day and Three could remind him to take breaks off the screen. Three brought the warm cup to Four's table. Taking his eyes off his work, Four looked at the latte art his purple guardian partner did.

SMG4: "Oh, that's a good-looking rose! A lot better than last time." SMG3: "Hey, that was my first time doing it. Give me a break."

That is true. But also because it was his first attempt to drop a hint to Four that he had romantic feelings for him, he was so nervous that his hand was shaking. It failed miserably either way due to Four being completely oblivious to his "hints". Not this time though.

SMG4: "Anyway, thanks, SMG3." [*takes a sip*] "Mhm, just what I needed, great as always, dude." [*goes back to his work*] SMG3: [*glances at the door, at Eggdog, before inhaling some courage*] "SM... No. Four, I need to talk to you about something." SMG4: [*looks at Three, puzzled*] "Uh, sure. What's up?" SMG3: "I... I don't know if there's going to be another tomorrow, but I need to tell you this. Either that, or I going to start regretting doing this and use the memory wiper on you again." [*and yeah, he muttered that last part*] SMG4: "SMG3?" SMG3: "Four... I'm in love with you."

Silence. ...please, don't go.

SMG3, averting his eyes: "I...I have for some time. I don't know when it all started but I guess it was back in the 'perfect' incident when I realized I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. And... those feelings have grown much more after that. I didn't say anything because I value our friendship, I do. I was willing to do whatever it takes to keep it that way. But, you have no idea how much I wanted to get it off my chest, to tell you this. I know this may be something out of the blue for you, all I ask is for you to take what I say as true. However you respond to this, I can take it. I understand if you want us to continue as friends. Or not, if that's what you wish..."

More silence. Please, say something. Anything.

Three has been avoiding seeing Four's face, terrified. If he took one look, his world would surely crumble. To heartbreak, to hope. It'd be best if he didn't know. He just wants Four to believe him.

SMG4: "...So the 'that person' everyone else was talking about, that was me all along?"

SMG3 slowly nods.

SMG4: "Heh, I thought I was the only one."

Three dares to finally look at SMG4. Four was smiling. Surprised, sure. But smiling.

SMG4: "I'm not sure when it started for me either. The 'perfect' incident, WOTFI 2023. But spending time with you made me realize a lot of things. That I enjoy it, that I wanted to be with you. Just being... us." [*takes Three's hands into his own*] "I... love you too. To be honest, I was also scared that you might not feel the same way." SMG3: "This... isn't a dream, is it?" SMG4: "No. It's not, I promise."

The two stared at each other for a moment, lost in the other's loving eyes, before they slowly closed the gap they had. A soft kiss they shared, and it was all Three needed to believe Four.

It didn't take them long for them to become a couple. In the weeks that followed, they planned out so many dates. Picnics, carnival days, movie nights. Watching sunsets, seeing stars. Just enjoying each other's company.

Being them.

And, of course, they tell the Crew about their relationship. "We knew" was what they responded. And then something about everyone owing Mario money from a bet. Three would roll his eyes at this but he couldn't care less. This was the happiest Three has ever been.

Four. His shooting star, his sweet prince. His boyfriend.

It felt wonderful and no one could take that from him.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Well, at least, that's what he thought.

If only he knew that he wasn't at home, in the Showgrounds. But rather, in a dark isolating room. Away from the rest of the world. With his limbs tangled in wires, he laid on a table. Unmoved, asleep. In the corner sat Mr Puzzles, looking through a monitor.

For a former villain, Puzzles expected Three to act on his wishes to be back to his past glory. Three said it himself, "I'm the best villain". So, he figured Three should be given a "chance". Puzzles kidnapped him on the night Three was debating on his final decision and put him in the simulation Puzzles created.

He figured that the simulation would be the push Three needed to be a villain again, destroy the Crew for Puzzles. Why put in the effort when they could do it to themselves? Besides, he's curious to see Three's face when his villainy phase fades away and realizes what he has done. Well, Puzzles would've.

Instead, he got.... this. Not exactly what he expected, but it was also risky to pull Three out of the simulation without creating suspicion. If SMG3 found out he was behind this... No, he couldn't let this happen. He'll just have to add something into the simulation to really push Three over the edge. Hmm, perhaps he could made the digital SMG4 hate him. Or better yet, kill him right off.

A flashing red light interrupts his thoughts, warning Puzzles of intruders entering his hideout. It was them. How...?

On the other side of the room, a tired Eggdog let out a hopeful bark from his cage. He knew Beeg4 must've found the message he left behind before he was caught by Mr Puzzles.

Augh, no matter, Mr Puzzles will just have to deal with them.

Outside, the Crew busted down the gate and built a buddy system to cover more ground. SMG4, the real one, turned on his flashlight.

SMG4: "Hang tight, Three. We'll get you home, I promise."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Mhm, what more could he ask from this?

Three looked down at Four, whose head was resting on his lap. Four kept his eyes closed as instructed by Three, he needed to relax away from his screen. Three was passing a hand through Four's hair. It was nice to just be the two of them here in the game room.

SMG3: "Can I go now?" SMG4: "Nope, you're stuck with me forever." SMG3: [*laughs, before going dramatic*] "Oh no, whatever should I do. Hmm, I guess that's what I get..." [*his hand stops*] SMG4: [*opens his right eye*] "Is something on your mind?" SMG3: "I just... I still can't believe you're my boyfriend." SMG4: [*opens both eyes*] "Well, no regrets on confessing?" SMG3: "I wouldn't change a thing." [*gives a kiss on his partner's forehead, continuing what he was doing*] "I'm glad you stayed." SMG4: "It's because of you I did."

Three hummed. Yep, he decided. He's definitely going to marry Four.

SMG3: "But, for real, can I get up? I want to grab something from the kitchen." SMG4: "Aw, party pooper." [*sits up, letting Three get off from the couch.*] SMG3: "Want anything?" SMG4: "Nah, I'm good."

SMG3 proceeded to head for the door but as soon as he went to grab the knob...

???: "SMG3! Can you hear me?" SMG3: "...Tari?"

Suddenly, the door was glitching, its shape distorting to an extreme.

SMG3: "What the...What's happening?"

The room followed suit, bits and pieces being replaced with a white void. Deleting itself.

SMG3: "Four, c'mon, we gotta get out of..."

When he turned around, he saw his partner calmly standing before him, unfazed by the chaos surrounding them. As if he was expecting this.

SMG3: "Four?" SMG4?: [*slowly taking Three's hand*] "No, Three. I'm not..." [*sighs*] "Remember back when you asked if this was a dream? I promised you then that it's not and I promise the same thing to you now. This isn't a dream. It's a simulation, created by the person who kidnapped you and put you here."

A beat. But the world waited for no one. Not even them.

SMG3: "...Who? Why?" SMG4?: "I don't have access to that information. I wish I could." [*looks at the growing cracks that peeked into the white void*] "Looks like your friends have found you and are taking you out of here."

SMG3 looks back at him, conflicted. He yearned for this life for so long, only for it to be a complete lie. Whoever placed him here was playing some kind of sick joke on him. Perhaps, it was too good to be true...

The two look down at their hands, only to see Four's hand fading away.

SMG4?, his voice starting to distort: "I'm just sorry it had to be this way. That you had to be part of it at all. But I will tell you this: a simulation can't be made out of nothing. Me, the Crew, everything, it's an exact copy of the real thing. What I'm trying to say is, don't let this bring you down. You've been through so much, Three. You deserve to love and to be loved. Your SMG4, the real one, does feel the same as you do. I would know." SMG3: "...What if it doesn't work out?" SMG4?: "Who knows? It happened once, it could happen again. Besides, remember what Melony said, you won't be alone. Your friends will still be there. And I'm sure he'll still be there too."

SMG3 pulls Four into a hug, leaving Four taken back by this. Sure, they've been dating for weeks, if you can even call it that, but usually when people find out this is a simulation, they would leave. They try to forget. Four smiles and hugs back. He should've known better with SMG3. In the middle of the hurricane of deleting pixels and code, there they were with tears silently falling down their cheeks.

SMG4?: "Promise me something: Don't lose the same courage you had when you confessed your feelings to me." SMG3, nods: "I promise." SMG4?: "Goodbye, Three..."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3 let out a gasp, his lungs searching for air, as if he was swimming underwater for a long time. He covered his face with his arm, his eyes unable to stand the bright lights.

"SMG3!" "Thank gosh, you're okay!" "Guys, quiet down, he just got out of the simulation."

He could feel several hands helping him sit up from what seemed like a table. He wanted to speak but instead let out a harsh cough, his tongue feeling like sandpaper.

"Woah woah, take it easy. It's okay, you're safe."

He knew that voice. A familiar hand grabbed his, a thumb rubbing his knuckles in comfort.

"He looks so pale." "Dude, it's been weeks." "We should get him to the hospital." "Who did this to him?" "Whoever it was, they got away."

Slowly, Three's senses were coming back, and he immediately turned to the one who comforted him. Four. Three wanted to reach out, be in Four's arms. To let Four kiss him and tell him that Four was here. But he stopped himself.

It's the real SMG4, not his Four.

Melony took Eggdog out of his cage and handed him to Three, who comforted his son with a tight hug.

Mario: "SMG3, are you okay?" SMG3, his voice dry: "Yeah, I'm fine. Really." SMG4: "Then, why are you crying? Did something happen in the simulation?"

Three reached to touch his face. Four wasn't wrong about that. He swiped the tears away with his gloved hand.

SMG3: "Nothing. Nothing at all."

The Crew looked at each other, unsure of how to respond. Four didn't either, but he gave Three's hand a squeeze.

SMG4: "C'mon, let's go home."

SMG3 could only nod. With a bit of help, SMG4 and Mario carried Three with their arms while the Crew followed behind. Three looked over his shoulder, seeing the simulation contraption completely destroyed, before leaving the hideout for good.

Goodbye, Four.

[dabis-azure-songstress]

could you do headcanons for dabi who’s with a s/o that is a really kind and giving individual. he didn’t like it at first and he thought his s/o being so kind to people who were less fortunate like the homeless was a bad thing but he starts to pick up on their behavior and his s/o catches him doing something nice for something and they both realize he’s started to pick up after his s/o

Ooo, yes, absolutely! I feel like I can relate to this very well. I can already imagine all the things he'll say. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been trying to focus and take a bit better care of myself than I have been, especially with the carpal tunnel. I hope all of you will enjoy these anyway. I feel so bad about not posting here or on my A03. Thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy this, Dabi Goddesses!

Pairing: Dabi w/ S/O that is really kind and giving

Headcanons or one-shot? Headcanons with a small written scenario

Rating: SFW! Warning though! Dabi is sweet at the end and may steal your heart.

"You know they're just going to take advantage of you, don't you? You really need to set boundaries, doll."

At first, it really bothers him how kind and selfless you are and also maybe even makes him a little jealous.

And, he can sound very harsh and occasionally really hurt your feelings sometimes with things he says when he nags you about it, but he really means well.

He really doesn't want to see anyone hurt you or take advantage of you. EVER.

"You really are too kind for your own good. It's going to cause you a lot of trouble one of these days."

"You're such a pushover. You couldn't even tell someone, "No" even if you wanted to."

When he sees he hurts your feelings or upsets you, he does feel bad after, however. Believe me.

After a while though, he really grows to admire you and appreciate you.

After all, it takes a lot of courage to keep being yourself and being selfless, even if sometimes you do get hurt in the process.

You do eventually learn to set some healthier boundaries that Dabi takes note of, and he's proud of you, but he also grows to love how sweet you are.

Eventually, you both don't realize you've rubbed off and made him "softer" a little bit.

One day, you are out of the apartment when you hear a child crying. At first, you think Dabi may have said something rude without meaning to, and upset them, but a glance at the scrapes and blood on their knees proves otherwise. Dabi has kneeled down before them carefully.

"Did you go and hurt yourself there, little bit?"

The little one looks up at him with red and puffy eyes, still rubbing at them, and nods meekly.

"First, I need you to get up...C'mon. You can do it."

Dabi reaches out a hand gingerly and helps the young one to their feet carefully as you watch.

"Wanna see something cool to distract you from the pain a little bit? I'm gonna have Y/N go get you some band-aids and ointment."

Another nod in agreement. Dabi takes in a deep breath and carefully kneels back down to the child's height before he holds out a hand and gently alights a small cerulean flame ablaze in his palm. He glances at you carefully.

When you come back with the band-aids and medicine, you notice the child's laughter filling the air. The child is now fully seated on his lap with him carefully juggling the fire around them.

-----

Now bandaged up and much more dry-eyed and content, the mother soon arrives. It turns out the little one had gotten separated in the rush hour of people. She's surprised to see Dabi entertaining her child so well, despite his looks, but offers him a gentle smile and thanks you both softly as she gathers the little one into her arms.

As they're walking away, Dabi just casts his eyes over you.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" you smile.

"THAT. Stop it."

You giggle softly at him.

"...Maybe it's not so bad."

"Hm?"

"Maybe it's not so bad being just like you...every once in a while."

You can only smile in return as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.

[kanasbinwriting]

Hello!! Do you think you could do "a date with death" headcannons?? Like just general romantic headcannons!

GENERAL DATING HEADCANONS

Thank you so much for your request!! Apologies for the long wait :( I was quite busy recently.

I love him so much I might even do a part two if I can come up with more after I finish all of my requests...

I listened to the adwd soundtracks as I wrote this lol. Idk and idc if someone cares or not, but my Casper plush arrives soon and I'm sooo excited ^^!! Anyway, enjoy!!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

- He looks like someone who adores kisses but wouldn't initiate them at first, so you'd have to make the first move

- But don't worry, if you stop giving him kisses and tease him enough he'll be the one to initiate them

- He gets especially weak in the knees when you kiss him on the neck

- Do you guys know that meme "Ah, yes. My girlfriend and her 500 dollar four foot tall mareep."? That's Casper with his Azrael plush and I will die on that hill

- He will laugh at you if you get jealous of his plush

- How can you be jealous of a plushy...? Mortals sure are weird...

- In the beginning stages of your relationship, he would be very shy and uncertain when it comes to initiating physical touch, but when you initiate it? He would never say no

- He loves to tease you but will explode when you tease him back

- No matter how often he denies it, it's obvious that he loves your teasing and adores the little back and forth you guys have

- You don't know how makeup works? Don't worry, because your personal makeup assistant is here!

- He would LOVE to do your makeup whenever you please, may it be every day or just on special occasions it doesn't matter to him. He also loves to have you this close to him and cups your cheek when he does your eyeliner

- Don't get me wrong, I bet he's a great cook, but I don't think he knows a lot of recipes and will make the same things over and over again

- If you want to eat something different, feel free to join him. I think cooking would be one of his favourite activities with you

- If you're a picky eater, he will make sure to only add the things you like

- His baking is shit though, no matter how precisely he follows the recipe, he somehow always fucks it up

- Even though he gets easily flustered, I think you two moved on quite fast in the relationship

- He would love to include you in his nightly routine

- Your skin's going to look glamorous!

- Even if you don't want to use his products for whatever reason, he'd still enjoy having you next to him doing your stuff as he gets ready for bed

- Even with Azrael in his arms, he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep without you. So when you get home late expect a grumpy reaper waiting for you on your bed

- He'll immediately forgive you when you give him cuddles

- I think one of his love languages is physical touch

- He isn't too keen on PDA, but he'll still hold your hand and give you small kisses in public

- In private he's a big cuddle bug though

- I think he would enjoy being the little spoon and big spoon, you can take your pick. He would also enjoy every cuddle position where he can hold your hand and look at your face

- One of his other love languages is definitely words of affirmation

- He enjoys receiving it as much as giving it

- I don't think that gift-giving is his love language, but he'll still give you gifts from time to time to surprise you

- Okay, I think I should stop talking about his love languages, but let me drop one more.

- I definitely think that one of his love languages is quality time

- Be it going outside for a walk or just staying at home cuddling while watching one of your silly series, he will always want to spend his time with you

-  He seems like a morning person to me, but he also enjoys staying in bed with you cuddling

- He's a GREAT listener

- No matter the subject, he will always engage in it and ask questions about it

- He loves listening to you info dump

- He'll even check the things you like out so he can engage in the conversation more

- I like to think that he enjoys playing coop games with you... especially Cult of the Lamb :)

- He's quite tidy and keeps his things organised, but he still wouldn't want to clean after you

- So if you leave your dirty laundry on the floor, be prepared for a big lecture

- When it comes to arguments, I think his reaction depends on what kind of argument it is

- Are you arguing about something silly? He will act stubborn and be a little know-it-all, even if he knows he's in the wrong

- If it's a more serious argument he will raise his voice, but won't scream

- It'll take him a day to cool off, and it will be a bit hard for him to apologise first but he still manages

- He will feel a bit awkward at first when everything's sorted out

- Just tell him that everything's fine now and give him a little smooch and he will be back on track

- Tbh I don't think that he's a jealous type, he trusts you a lot

- He does get jealous though when you somehow manage to spend more time with someone other than him

- I think he would immediately seek you out and talk to you, embarrassingly admitting that he's jealous

- If you have any hobbies and/or a fan of certain things, be prepared to suddenly have tons of merch and/or stuff of it on your bed waiting for you

- He'd look at you with a smug smile waiting to be praised and praises he will receive

- If you have any trauma and are mentally ill, he will do his best to support your every need

- If you have sudden outbursts and want to be left alone, he wouldn't mind going to a different room and wait for you to calm down. He'll still feel bad for leaving you

- He needs a lot of reassurance when it comes to your mental health and what exactly you need him to do

- The same goes for when you're chronically ill

- He won't bother to look the information up, he knows that not every method applies to the same person and will just straight up ask you what you need

- When he's sad, all he wants is for you to hold him and tell him that everything's going to be alright

- If you're stressed due to work or an entirely different reason, be prepared to get spoiled by him. Of course, he would lecture first that you need to take better care of yourself, but he will immediately massage your head after

- He will tear up if you give him a gift and bake/buy him a cake on his birthday

- If you have a hobby that he can somehow participate in be ready to have a player two, because he will join you

- He likes it when you call him baby girl. Even when it confused him at first

- He loves it when you give him serious and silly pet names, he isn't picky

- He knows that marriage is a big thing for most mortals, so he would love to marry you. It doesn't matter if it's official or not

[marcyvampire]

hiiii back with more can you also do platonic yandere Scott summers x reader

LITTLE PEBBLE

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Scott Summers x Mutant!Reader. (Platonic Fic)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ He found a little pebble, a trace of something that burned as intensely as she did. His desire to protect her had grown beyond reason. She was his only family now, a fire he needed to contain. But in his hands, even the pebble could ignite.

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, fire, kidnapping, delusion, Angst, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation. The reader is a teenager (17-18). Reader is like Flame Princess (AT), Human Torch (4F) etc.

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Honestly, I didn't have much idea on how to tackle this request at first because I was a bit lacking in inspiration. But then I got some good news, and while watching my favorite animated series, the idea of the fire mutation came to me. I hope it doesn't bother you; since you didn't ask for anything specific, unlike a previous request where someone wanted a mutation similar to Raven's, I decided to take a bit of creative freedom. I hope you like it!

Yandere Scott Summers who… worried upon seeing you that uneven night, just when he needed to calm his mind. Sometimes the stress of being the leader of the X-Men and the weight of protecting his friends became too much. The simple idea of going for a walk soothed him, but in that moment everything changed. He saw you walking alone under the dark sky, with an ignited fury in your eyes and that fiery orange and red hair. He watched you in silence, and something in you resonated with him. He couldn’t help the need to protect you, even though he barely knew you.

Yandere Scott Summers who… against his own instincts, decided to approach when he saw you on the road. You had dropped your backpack and upon seeing him, your expression hardened, and the air around you turned hot. The fire emerged from you, threatening to consume everything in an instant. And yet, he didn’t move. He observed the intensity with a disturbing fascination, as if in that blazing heat he found something only he could understand. It was the rain that intervened and made you retreat, temporarily extinguishing the flames and giving him the chance to extend a hand, gentle yet firm. “You can trust me. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, not really expecting you to accept. But it was enough for you to lower your guard, if only for a moment.

Yandere Scott Summers who… took you to the X-Men mansion, aware that your stay could cause problems. However, he didn’t care. He was determined to help you find the peace he saw hidden beneath your fiery exterior. He knew you were dangerous, that you could cause a disaster at any moment, but he was convinced that you could be more, that you were not just a threat. So he took full responsibility for you in front of Professor X and the others, promising to take care of you.

Yandere Scott Summers who… even when you were hostile and avoided everyone, continued to visit you in the infirmary. He brought small colorful flowers every day, even though he knew you would burn them as soon as he handed them to you. He watched with a mix of pain and adoration as you destroyed those flowers without hesitation, as if in doing so you released a part of yourself. Yet, he never stopped bringing you a new one each morning. He saw beauty in your rage and discomfort, and deep in his mind, he wished that someday you would accept his company without fear.

Yandere Scott Summers who… slowly took you out of the infirmary, earning your trust with infinite patience. He showed you the gardens, knowing that you might burn a plant, but he didn’t judge you for it. Instead of worrying, he felt a deep devotion seeing you hesitate and hold back. He knew you were struggling, not just against your own power, but against the feeling that perhaps you would never fit in there. Scott admired that struggle in you, and every time he saw you silently looking at the horizon, feeling like you didn’t belong, his urge to protect you intensified even more.

Yandere Scott Summers who… stayed with you when you thought no one was watching, as you quietly questioned why the world saw you only as a threat. He listened to everything, and although his words were often few, each one was filled with unwavering devotion. “You are more than you think,” he told you, and although you found it hard to accept, his words lingered in your mind.

Yandere Scott Summers who… cannot stand seeing you isolated, burning small branches or flowers at the edges of the garden to release tension. He knows it’s a part of you that no one else understands, but he does. And every spark, every little flame is, for him, proof of your strength. For him, those moments are a confirmation that, no matter what happens, his purpose is to protect you, care for you, and ensure that you never have to defend yourself alone again.

Yandere Scott Summers who… accompanied you every day at lunchtime, making sure you were comfortable and had something you could eat without burning yourself. He knew your emotions could spiral out of control at any moment and, with them, your blazing heat. So he prepared, offering you small bites patiently, pulling his hands away when he saw the flames intensifying on your fingers and returning to try again just seconds later. “You don’t have to worry; I’ll take care of this,” he told you, with a firm yet gentle look. He knew he wasn’t just giving you food; he was giving you a reason to trust him and only him.

Yandere Scott Summers who… spent countless nights making sure you didn’t destroy your room. He stayed awake outside your door, watching every spark, every fire that broke out. He had filled your room with special materials resistant to heat, and he himself set up a suppression system to prevent the fire from spreading too far. However, it was him you turned to when you couldn’t take it anymore and the flames escaped your control. He held you while your energy overflowed, not telling anyone that his own hands suffered small burns each time. “I’m here,” he whispered, holding you with protective firmness. “I won’t leave you. Never.”

Yandere Scott Summers who… gradually began to treat you as if you were his only family, beyond the X-Men and beyond any mission or duty. His teammates began to notice, especially Jean and Logan, who reminded him that he needed distance, but he ignored them. For him, protecting you was his most important mission. Even if it meant putting aside his other responsibilities, he didn’t care. He was willing to put anyone aside to dedicate every second of his time to you, convinced that no one could take care of you as well as he could. Jean tried to confront him: “Scott, you need to set boundaries. You’re losing your balance…” But he looked at her, with a coldness in his eyes that even she didn’t recognize. “Jean, no one else understands. She needs me more than you think.”

Yandere Scott Summers who… took you to quiet places, away from the gazes of others. Sometimes he convinced you to stroll through the woods, places where he allowed you to release some of your fire without worries. He silently watched as you burned branches or weeds, and he stayed close, making sure there was no danger, that no one else was around to judge you. In those moments, he would come closer and speak to you softly. “Here you can be yourself. You don’t need to hold back.” And although you didn’t always respond to him, he knew you understood, and those small flashes of connection were enough for him.

Yandere Scott Summers who… could barely contain his emotion when he saw you in action on your first mission. He had spent months preparing you, training you in controlling your powers, and finally the day came when everyone would see what he already knew: that you were incredibly powerful and deserving of respect. He watched you from afar, hidden behind his visor, seeing how you handled your flames with precision and poise, confronting enemies without hesitation. Every movement of yours filled him with pride, and when the mission ended, he ran to your side, smiling in a way that was unusual for him. “You did amazing! you’re perfect,” he whispered, keeping his hand on your shoulder and almost ignoring everyone else, as if you were the only thing that mattered.

Yandere Scott Summers who… immediately felt a pang of jealousy when Jean, Logan, and Ororo also came over to congratulate you. Ororo gave you a warm smile, telling you how impressive it was to see your control and skill, while Jean took your hands and told you that you were progressing quickly, with Logan looking at you with respect, something that wasn’t common for him. Scott tensed, his hands clenching into fists as he watched them praise you. He knew they were just acknowledging you, but seeing others give you their attention in such a close and personal way drove him irrational. Jean shot him a knowing look, but Scott avoided her gaze, murmuring, “They can leave her alone; she’s exhausted. She doesn’t need your approval.” He couldn’t help his voice from turning cold. To him, there was no one more suited to accompany you than himself.

Yandere Scott Summers who… silently went mad upon learning that you had had your first sleepover with Jubilee, Kitty, and other young X-Men without him. He had wanted to be part of everything in your life, but the girls had kept him at bay. They knew he could overprotect you to an uncomfortable point and wanted to give you a normal experience, without Scott hovering over you every second. Even more, they wanted to avoid you getting upset and bursting into flames. He spent the night wandering the hallway outside your room, hearing muffled laughter and feeling a deep frustration. He wanted to go in, make sure you were okay, and that no one affected you, but he held back, teeth clenched. To him, there was no reason he shouldn’t be part of everything you did. After all, only he understood the importance of being by your side at every moment.

Yandere Scott Summers who… lost his patience when he found out you had gone to the arcade with Jubilee and other young X-Men. He was in the middle of a meeting when he heard the news, and without thinking twice, he left everything to go look for you. Logan was the one who blocked his way, standing in front of the door with his characteristic disdain. “Let her be, Summers. She needs her space,” Logan murmured with a mocking tone, giving him a challenging look. “Do you know what could happen if something goes wrong?!” Scott replied, his eyes fixed on Logan, unable to comprehend why anyone else thought they had the right to decide about you. Logan shook his head, his patience wearing thin: “What could happen is that she learns to live without you glued to her like a leech.” Scott felt a mix of anger and vulnerability that baffled him, but ultimately, he took a step back. However, he spent the rest of the night restless, only thinking about you, about how happy you could be without him there to take care of every detail.

Yandere Scott Summers who… secretly suffered as he watched you start to get along with the other X-Men. As your control over your powers improved, you became more confident and integrated into the community, talking and laughing with others, sharing moments you had only shared with him before. There was one student in particular, Sam Guthrie, also known as Cannonball, who sent you notes and letters expressing his admiration. He gave you small shiny stones he found, telling you they reminded him of the color of your eyes when you were calm. Scott found those details, and every time he saw one of those stones, he felt a wave of irrational anger. One afternoon, he approached you with tense calmness. “You don’t need his gifts; you know I’m here to give you everything you need,” he murmured, his gaze dark while holding the stone in his hands. He didn’t want to admit he was jealous, but his words and the rigidity in his face told you everything.

Yandere Scott Summers who… lost control when you told him you were considering going to Genosha with Sam and other young mutants. It was a decision driven by your desire to explore and experience life away from the mansion, and besides, Sam had insisted on accompanying you, assuring you that you would be safe with him. The night you mentioned it to Scott, he simply exploded. “Genosha? With Sam?!” he shouted, with an intensity you had never seen in him before. His face was marked by a mix of disbelief and desperation. “Do you think someone like him can protect you? That you can trust someone who barely knows your true needs?” he said. “Scott, you can’t control everything I do,” you replied, trying to remain calm, although his reaction made you doubt. “You don’t understand!” he continued, raising his voice. “Do you think anyone else will be willing to do what I do for you? I’m the only one who truly understands how dangerous you are and what you need to be okay!” His words hurt you, but they also revealed the intensity of his feelings, leading you to see a side of him you hadn’t noticed before. In his desperation, he had lost sight of your own autonomy, and for a moment, you realized that Scott was not willing to let you go.

Yandere Scott Summers who… felt his world collapse when he understood that your desire for independence could separate you. The idea of losing you, of someone else being your protector and making you feel safe, consumed him. So, in a moment of desperation, he made a drastic decision. He decided that the best thing was to remove you from everyone, even from yourself, so that you would never feel the need to seek the company of others.

Yandere Scott Summers who… prepared a chilling plan. On a dark night, he set fire to part of the mansion. Screams, sirens, and smoke filled the air, and as everyone else struggled to escape, he approached you and took your hand. “We have to go, quickly, now” he said, his voice intense and urgent.

Yandere Scott Summers who… upon reaching the exit, a twist of fate changed everything. With a simple gesture, he made everyone believe you had died in the fire. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for your “sake.” The shock, the despair of the others, was a spectacle he watched from a distance, his heart pounding as he made sure no one suspected his role in all this.

Yandere Scott Summers who… took you to an isolated house in the woods, away from the mansion and any other X-Men who might look for you. There, he placed a collar on you that inhibited your powers. He knew that without it, you could hurt yourself or damage anything around you. “It’s for your safety,” he said, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and madness in his eyes. “I’ll never hurt you again, and no one will be able to. Here, you are safe.”

Yandere Scott Summers who… began to treat you like a child, controlling every aspect of your life. He fed you by hand, offering you small portions of food he prepared carefully, making sure everything was to his liking. “You have to eat to stay strong,” he repeated, watching you chew slowly; after all, you couldn’t refuse him, or you would regret it. He delighted in every bite you gave him the chance to offer, watching how you got used to his care.

Yandere Scott Summers who… chose your clothes with unsettling precision. He made sure they were comfortable yet modest, reflecting the image he wanted you to project. Everything, from colors to styles, was carefully planned to keep you within the limits he had set. “You don’t need to worry about anything else,” he insisted while dressing you. “Here, all that matters is you and me.” The house became your gilded prison, a place where everything seemed comfortable but was nothing more than a trap. The windows were sealed, and every time you tried to leave, he stopped you with a cold look. “You don’t understand the danger out there,” he repeated, increasingly anxious, as if every word was a warning. “I can’t let you go.”

Yandere Scott Summers who… spent hours with you, playing board games, reading books, doing anything that reminded him of a warm home, and always, always, watching you. However, every time you tried to ask a question about your previous life, his gaze would darken. “Let’s not talk about that. You’re happier here, I promise,” he would say, almost pleading with you. He refused to allow you to talk about the X-Men or any friends you might have had.

Yandere Scott Summers who… every time he saw you frustrated, igniting your inner fire, took it as a challenge to his authority. “You must control yourself,” he insisted, coming closer to you with a terrifying intensity, his eyes shining with a mixture of concern and possessiveness. “If you can’t control it, then you can’t go out.” And although he said it in a soft tone, there was a latent threat in his voice that made everything even more unsettling. The situation began to take a dark turn when you realized there was no way to escape, that Scott had made drastic decisions to ensure you never had the chance to return to your old life. You began to feel desperation and frustration building inside you, and every time you tried to scream or release your anger, he looked at you with a sadness that only reinforced his control.

Yandere Scott Summers who… one night, while you were silently crying, approached you and held you in his arms, but his hugs were filled with barely contained madness. “Don’t worry, my little pebble. Everything will be okay; you just have to trust me,” he said, in a voice so soft it felt like a disguised threat. “I will protect you from anything that wants to hurt you.” The atmosphere became oppressive, and the house turned into a prison, with Scott as the dark guardian who had decided your life would be his and no one else’s. He fed off your suffering, convinced that every tear was a sign of love and need for him.

Yandere Scott Summers who... One night, while you were alone in the room, you decided you could no longer bear it. With a heart-wrenching scream, you tried to use your power, but the collar prevented you. He appeared, his eyes burning with fury and pain, and although he approached to calm you, it was evident that the situation had reached a point of no return. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling between sadness and possessiveness, and at that moment, you realized that the only way to escape his control would come at a price you were not willing to pay. So, in one last attempt to free yourself, you began to fight, knowing that if you didn’t do something now, you would never do it. But in his mind, as chaos erupted, Scott believed he was doing the right thing. To him, you only existed, and he could never let you go.

A/N ─── Another one of the overdue requests; I think there's only one left! (The one for Kurt... and honestly, I still have no idea how to approach it, but we’ll get there eventually). I'm really sorry for the delay, but here it is at last. Thank you for your patience and support; it means a lot.

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

[l-in-the-light]

How does Law deal with his fear of losing loved ones? 😢

Uh, how does he deal with it... Considering what we saw already, I think the answer is "he deals with it badly".

Let's take a closer look at the situations in which he lost people. Fair warning, this will be kinda long and I will go into insufferable number of details, because I feel like it :D Flevance, for starters. First he lost his parents, then his friends from church, then finally his sister, and each time it seems to hit him only harder. One of these traumas would be enough to make you paranoid of losing anyone ever again, but it's a freaking triple portion of that.

Helplessly sitting there in the midst of corpses of his friends, crying and screaming, as if they could still hear him.

His first longterm reaction was losing faith, but not just in religion or god, but "anything". This means he most likely lost faith in people's kindness and compassion (soldiers killing off children and the nun), honesty (again, soldiers tricking the nun and breaking their promise to her to save the children), morality (not even women and kids will be spared), his doctor skills (he didn't manage to save anyone despite being a kid of a doctor), trust in others (because again no one helped him, his parents or anyone else in Flevance. He got out just because he didn't expect to receive any help, he's solely self-dependant at the age of 10 and probably survived on the streets completely by himself too).

Finally, he joined Doflamingo's Family out of desperation, but at first they didn't want to take him in.

He was sitting on a pile of trash, having a really vivid flashback that clearly triggered him and make him lash out at Corazon, full of directionless rage. He was probably thinking they won't accept him into the family after all, so he wanted to take down at least one life of a "scum", as he said it himself.

But even after they accepted him into the family, he's still pretty much expressionless and avoiding getting close with people, which might have been his subconscious self-defense mechanism. If he's not close to anyone, it won't hurt him anymore if anyone dies. He might have been part of the family, getting engaged with his studies and training, but he really didn't grow close with them. Sure, he spends some time with Baby5 and Buffalo, but it seems their interactions are mostly forced by the other kids and didn't start from Law's own initiative.

Like here, "I wasn't asking for [your real names]" and "I only said [my name] because you kept bugging me!". He is not curious about the other kids, he doesn't feel like having fun anymore either (possible sign of depression or traumatic response: suddenly not enjoying things you previously did enjoy). Considering the fact he believes he's gonna die soon, depression would be also pretty much understandable.

Summing it up, at first he dealt with it by putting distance between himself and other people, succumbing to depression, not only feeling like nothing is fun but also thinking it's pointless to even try to change it, and also trying not to think about Flevance (the last part is for self-preserving reasons).

We could see him getting retraumatized over and over again while Corazon dragged him around the different hospitals, and he says it himself: it took so much toll on his mental wellbeing that it even affected his physical health and made the disease progress faster. Anything related to amber lead syndrome and what happened at Flevance, and even just people's reactions to sick people, seem to really affect him in a bad way and psychologically-wise revisit the hell he barely survived.

After he finally got someone he cares about again (Cora-san), he starts to regain his faith in people's kindness and love again (he probably thought no one can love him after he lost every single person who loved him before). Doesn't mean he stops fearing that Cora-san might die and he deals with his fear by constantly worrying about him:

He's so one-track minded about it that he doesn't even pay attention to what Cora-san is telling him. His fear and worry must have been really overwhelming him to the point that he couldn't focus on anything else.

He's blaming himself whenever anyone gets hurt as the result of trying to help him. Later he ever provokes Vergo just so he would harm Law instead of Cora-san, because Law can't deal with the thought that someone dear to him would suffer for his sake or because of his mistake.

Next step is him trying to compensate for the damage. He literally does everything Cora-san wants him to do, even go and talk to a Marine, despite having really hard time doing it (he has bad memories of the Marines and he might have feared them at this point).

Despite promising to stay put, he wants to get out of the chest as soon as he hears gunshots (after all last time it happened, Cora-san ended up badly injured!). But what would he do next, if he truly managed to get out? You can guess it, he would take the blow for Cora-san instead of him. He tried to do the same before, take the beating from Vergo so he stops harming his Cora-san. Law's not beyond self-sacrificing himself if it saves people who are dear to him. He would prefer to die himself than seeing them die (especially for his sake) and not being able to do anything about it.

That's why he says this despite the fact he's in such a bad state he can't move. But he doesn't worry about himself, only about his crew's wellbeing (they can't die on him!).

It's the same in Dressrosa. He either sacrifices himself for them so they can escape (he almost died there, lost his arm, was buying time for Luffy; all of these actions count as sacrifice), or he dies together with them. Technically, what Bepo did by saving him makes Law 100% re-live his past trauma again.

And since trauma is a vicious cycle, that means he might go back to his previous stages after he lost to Blackbeard: putting distance between himself and people, keeping people dear to him safe (which means away from him), trying to focus the possible backlash on himself instead of on them. Generally, he would make sure they don't get harmed for his sake. He might go on another solo mission, leaving his crew behind, just like he did for Dressrosa and Punk Hazard (until he stumbled upon Strawhats, but he also wanted to break the alliance before they get too engaged into his plan, despite barely knowing them).

That could potentially also make us better understand his refusal to get saved by Luffy back in Dressrosa, especially after Law made sure that Doflamingo lashes out at him, not Luffy and the Strawhats, sacrificing himself for them and buying time.

He also deals with his fear by being overprotective. What could he even do for Luffy here if someone attacks them? He couldn't even move or stand up! He would protect Luffy simply by bodyblocking, taking harm in his place... His own survival or wellbeing be damned.

So the second phase of him dealing with his fear of losing people is being overprotective of them, pushing them out of harm's way even at the cost of his own wellbeing or life (sometimes that means tucking them away in a safe place, sometimes it means taking the damage on himself in their place), and agreeing with anything and everything to compensate for putting them in danger, as long as it doesn't harm them. For example, they want to carry them for half of Dressrosa in uncool fashion? So be it, as long as they're not in danger.

That's Law's way of dealing with his fear at it's worst. At it's best though? Hearts and Luffy taught him again how to have faith in people. Bepo, Penguin and Shachi (and Wolf) opened his heart after he had again no one left (second time in his life already) and simply were there for him, and he returned the favour. He lived in quite a peaceful town so for a while he didn't have to worry about losing them (though he had to save their lives twice anyway, always overdoing himself in the process and doing everything by himself, because he couldn't mentally handle the possibility of losing them). Yet soon after trouble in the town happened, he decided it's time to leave the island for good and maybe it wasn't just a coincidence; his fear of losing people might have finally pushed him to take that step.

Law also trusted Luffy to deal with the Sanji's situation on his very own. He could have gone with Luffy to Whole Cake Island, simply because he was worried sick and afraid he might lose him, but he chose to *have faith* in him instead and to wait for him in Wano. What's the difference between this situation and Dressrosa? I guess the urgency. In a normal situation, he can convince himself that it's okay and people won't die on him, if he tries hard enough to fight his fear. Perhaps he also takes some measures to prevent bad stuff from happening, to calm his mind (could he help Luffy in any way on the Whole Cake Island despite not being there by himself? Who knows. But I wouldn't put it past him). But when the situation is dire, he loses to that fear and does really reckless things to protect people. Thankfully, he still has enough awareness to not die on people either, but at times it gets alarmingly close (again, nearly dying in Dressrosa, putting himself in jail in exchange for freeing his Hearts in Wano).

Third time's the charm, let's see how he reacts after the scare of losing his crew to Blackbeard and probably believing, yet again, this is all his fault, because he's the captain and responsbile for their wellbeing. What do you think, after Law lost did the Heart Pirates throw themselves between him and the enemy to protect him?

Because I think they did, 100% certain of it. Law would take it really badly. He would feel like he's again in his past, having to watch his parents and sister and kids dying, or Cora-san being shot to death, and Law again can't do anything about it. That ought to crank up his fear of losing people to 1000%. We can't really expect rational behaviour out of him as the result. I think he will do anything to never repeat it again, and that doesn't mean training like crazy with his crew, but instead leaving them behind so they're out of the harm's way. It is definitely not one of his better days, in which his faith in people will win over his fear of losing them.

I don't know how much he's bluffing when he says things like that, both in Dressrosa and Wano, but even if he himself doesn't always believe in this, just him saying it to others means a lot. Also faith in others doesn't have to be "blind faith". I think it's unreasonable to expect Law to have blind faith in *anything* after what he went through in his life. But he seems to never doubt Luffy, for example, and that's also a sign of his belief in him. Doesn't mean he won't worry his ass over him or that he won't become overprotective, because one doesn't exclude the other :)

And a bonus: how I wish Law dealt with his fear instead. I want him to have a strong crew that he can have faith in to take care of themselves, to trust his dear people to prioritize their own survival (even if it's Usopp's style!) so he won't have to worry for them dying for the cause. And he should definitely stay close to Luffy, because they both having self-sacrificing tendencies and they both worry about each other so much. They can learn together how to be better about it. But Law's fear will always come back in worst situations, because something so deeply rooted can't just go away and never resurface. I'm sure he can manage it better though, we saw him doing that in Zou!

[izaacs-notdeadyet]

The outsiders zombie apocalypse au say whay?

Chat.. let me say I have been COOKING.

Storyline is loosely based on the last of us, in the sense that Johnny takes the role of Ellie, and Darry of Joel. This is inspired by a post I saw talking about a tlou outsiders au but I couldn't find who made the post to tag them in this ☹️☹️

More info and designs under the cut (tw for guns, violence, and death)

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Johnny Cade:

Lore: [Johnny was born seven months after the start of the apocalypse. His mother had been pregnant with him and managed to survive up until his birth, when she ended up getting bit by a zombie when she went into labor. She managed to escape back into her and Mr Cade's cabin, where he would find his wife who had turned, and his newly born son.

Johnny's father did NOT like his son. He only took care of him cause he felt some kind of obligation to his late wife and it's really a miracle Johnny didn't die under his watch or because of him. One day, Mr Cade sent Johnny out scavenging for supplies on his own (horrible idea.) Johnny ended up being chased and leading them back. Him and his dad ended up escaping, just barely.

Johnny had been bit in their escape. His dad had seen it first. His dad wanted to shoot him before he turned, but Johnny, terrified with a gun to his head, lashed out and knifed his dad to death. He sat there for awhile, waiting to turn. But Johnny never did end up turning. He grabbed his dad's gun and his stuff, and set off for the road, leaving his dad's corpse cold behind him.

He survived for around a year mostly on his own, occasionally falling in with some travelers but mostly he was on his own. Somewhere in that year timeframe he got jumped by Paul and his gang, getting his scar and losing his gun in the process.]

Extra commentary: i honestly had so much fun with drawing Johnny. As for his character, I think his growth was stunted due to stress and malnutrition. Similar to in the book he also looks younger. It would still bug him, but he's gotten good at playing up his youthfulness to gain the trust of unsuspecting people, and then mugging them.

I think he'd be pretty efficient with his bow, especially since his gun was stolen and he hasn't been able to find another one yet. In a way he likes that the bow gives him more control, but he also misses the confidence that having a gun gave him.

He carries around a mini sewing kit, he's gotten pretty good at fixing holes in his clothes and bag and even repaired the hole in his jeans. He needs to find more scrap fabric though to repair his other pants leg.

He's pretty shy. Just in general but also because he doesn't really trust people. He's paranoid about someone finding out about his immunity and then using it against him. If he can't wear his jacket, (which is rare, but sometimes) he'll wrap gauze or extra fabric around the bite tightly to keep it hidden.

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Darrel Curtis:

Lore: [Darry doesn't remember much from before the apocalypse, he would've only been four. He does remember a panic and them having to leave town, his mom Carrying his baby brother Soda in her hands. The Curtis parents were very good about keeping their children safe. They ended up going to a sanctuary city. It was rough, but it was more like Jackson than Boston, it was a safe place to raise their kids.

That was, until it wasn't. One day, two years before canon, a horde broke in, and the city was overrun with zombies. Darry managed to find his brothers, along with Steve and Two-bit in the chaos. They stopped by their house, Darry packing a bag and taking his father's shotgun, he was trying to find his parents and also keep his brothers and friends safe at the same time. When he found his parents, it was too late. They were turning, and Darry had to shoot them to save Soda.

Steve ended up hotwiring a car for them, and they fled the city. Darry has been doing his best to take care of them sense, even though the group gets on his last nerves, especially with their insistence to keep adding people to their group and stop by long abandoned tourist traps when they're meant to be looking for the nearest sanctuary city.]

Extra commentary: I LOVED drawing Darry. If I had fun drawing Johnny than I can't begin to explain what drawing Darry did to me. It was my first time drawing him and he just came so easy to me.

For his design I don't have much to say, I think he'd have a habit of biting the tip of his knife (something @deim0sdread came up with that) and it ended up giving him a scar on his lip from the blade.

For his bag though I have a lot more to say, I think he'd be the one that's most prepared, he tries to keep his first aid kit packed with the essentials. I think if he found the group all walkie talkies he'd be set. He's kinda like a mom in the way he runs around making sure everyone's set, that ponyboy didn't leave anything behind and that he's actually paying attention, or that Twobit isn't trying to drink fucking rubbing alcohol. He kinda resents having to do so much for everyone but he loves them and couldn't do any different

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Mandatory tagging of the moots [ @deim0sdread @urmomatron700 @b3st-sunday-dr3ss @ari-the-silly ]

[orb-weaving]

Mahiro Kurono, also known as the C-rank Villain "Forthright".

(or, seeing @angie-starz show off their chronohaul fankids prompted me to flesh out Mahiro more in design and personality)

His Villain name is a bit of a pun as opposed to his quirk name like his fathers as "written in blood" is lengthy. So instead forthright, because his quirk causes people to follow through on their actions, and it sounds like "force" and "write."

And then if you want other little bits of trivia;

Mahiro was generally considered a very polite and precocious child. He knew he wouldn't be given recognition just for existing, so from a very young age he's worked on expanding his vocabulary to sound more professional, and strengthening his quirk to be useful.

He's more Hari's kid than Kai's, not out of personal preference but because while both of them were pretty distant, Hari was the only one who tentatively took on a parental role. Kai had pretty much no incentive to even really notice the kid until he formed a personality, just going with the philosophy of "just leave him to his own devices he'll be fine". Among the Shie Hassaikai, even if Mahiro's physical and manneristic resemblance to Kai is too strong for them to assume literally anyone else is his other dad, it's politely accepted to just call him "Kurono's kid."

Nemoto didn't particularly like Mahiro, but as soon as Mahiro was old enough to start using his quirk to help their business endeavors he was typically sent out with Nemoto because their quirks mesh well, and Mahiro approved of Nemoto's disposition for truth. Mahiro doesn't actually see him much like a dad but he doesn't have a better reference point honestly.

He was allowed to interact with Eri to try and give her a "companion" and stop her from trying to run away. They were kind of friends at first but Mahiro eventually got angry at her for the amount of attention she received from his dads, and in turn Eri was frightened, so they were separated again. When he grows older and more rational Mahiro does feel really bad about this and probably seeks her out to apologize. Even at the time he knew it wasn't really her fault he just disliked that they both had mutated quirks but his would never be so useful as hers.

The loss of his leg was probably the first time Mahiro was recognized and sort of cared for by his parents. He was sent out with Nemoto and a few others to help with a negotiation with a dangerous associate, who didn't take kindly to being held to their word, considering it "underhanded". They captured Mahiro on his way back and severed where the message was written, returning him alive as a "warning". Mahiro was carried by Kurono as he'd seen him do for Eri, and Chisaki was utterly pissed off about the whole ordeal, slaughtering the organization for the audacity. It was the first proof to him that his life had meaning to them, which, for a kid raised by three people with various flavors of unyielding irrational devotion, was enough to earn his fealty, even if he does still hold a few things against them.