#like he’s so fucking selfless and barely got any support

[im-out-of-it]

SEASON TWO WRAP UP: a mixture

I have eight parts to do today that will include a mix of season two, with 2x05-07, as I will be trying to get everything completed as soon as possible. I’m sorry if anyone is waiting on season three. I’m just trying to do a refresher since season two has a lot to process and comb through

Izzy caring about Alec

also can we talk about how Izzy is the only one who seems to care about Alec here? Magnus is helping Simon so he’s probably unaware that Alec is about to risk his life for jace ONCE AGAIN but Izzy is the only one saying hey Alec, can you not risk yourself please? I’m not losing you. it makes no sense to not have Maryse and Robert here. I get scheduling conflicts or whatever happens but Alec almost dies and they’re not even present?????

I couldn’t think of any words either. we don’t blame Alec

I 100% feel that getting rid of Jocelyn was one of the best things the show ever did. I don’t like her with luke, I stan Luke and Maryse more. I don’t think Luke and Jocelyn had anything. no chemistry, no reason to be together, nothing. he literally loved her so much and she didn’t notice him for the longest time. we don’t get to see them often in the show but I absolutely loathe them so much in the books. I don’t think Jocelyn ever really loved or cared about Luke. the ship reminds me of clary and Simon. it’s more what Luke can do for Jocelyn. Maryse is so much better for Luke and I’ll die on this hill. Jocelyn was so busy “protecting” clary and Luke that she didn’t think of what they wanted

Jace pays zero consequences for this. yes Maria set up dens and did bad things- but shadowhunters like valentine who use these excuses as if they’re doing the clave a favor by killing downworlders are just as bad. I don’t buy the excuse of “valentine tricked jace and that’s why he does evil shit” because if that were true, then why isn’t he learning from his mistakes?

Izzy being the best. Im obsessed with her whip mainly because it’s a snake 🐍 and I’m obsessed with the meaning of snakes. Magnus’s snake earrings are my favorite piece of jewelry he wears

I knew for a fact that Magnus gave Raphael attitude for dumping that drink out. his son should know better

like father, like son

(this is one of my most favorite friendships/relationships on the show. it’s so sweet seeing Magnus care about Raphael and be there for him)

2x06 and 2x07 are easily one of the best episodes in the whole of season two. the first date, Alec gifting Magnus is so wholesome. Malec before the body switch and soul sword are a sight to see. it’s just so innocent and sweet with every interaction they have. I don’t know about anyone else but the domesticity is what drives me the most about Malec. doing the cute couple stuff is the sweetest

just a friendly reminder that Magnus is used to everyone needing him for favors. he doesn’t get gifts or people treating him as a person. just a reminder that most shadowhunters with the exception of Alec, treats him as some warlock who is only good for his gifts. Magnus is so stunned by Alec’s caring nature and how Alec treats Magnus. I 100% put clary and jace in the category of only wanting Magnus around as their warlock they go to for favors. I don’t see Alec that way. I think partly he knows Magnus is the best but he also wants to bond and be around Magnus as much as he can. though something they should of worked in season two in my stupid opinion is that they should have had more couple moments instead of Alec asking Magnus for help constantly

it makes me sad and mad how much people take advantage of Magnus. I love Magnus being supportive but clary had no right going to Magnus for fucking everything until she found out she could create her own portals and NEVER being there for Magnus. the only time she seemed to care about Magnus in season two was when Alec almost died in 2x03 and the massacre in 2x11 when she said alec would be okay. but Magnus is so bloody kind and selfless that he comforts clary when Jocelyn is dead (fucking good riddance) and anytime she needs help. mind you, interrupting Malec moments and treating Magnus as her go to I need help person. yes it really does make me this upset lmao MY MAN DESERVED BETTER

I love the Jem mention. Jem with the help of two of my fav lightwoods is the only appealing thing about TID and I do wish he was featured in the show more

Alec forgetting Magnus has a past will never not be funny

Alec: I will murder jace so help me angels

I had a request for the jace helping Simon be flirty so I added some here

okay, I ship it adding to my it should have happened slot

that little pouty face they both do 🥹

I think the next one is also a random one. yes I have a problem

[chuunai]

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

[writeroutoftime]

pawns in your game (part 2/2)

part one

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: upon waking up, cassian and the rest of the inner circle are relieved, but it seems there are still some wounds that need healing.

warnings: none, but some conversations that need to happen in ACOTAR canon lol

words: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for all the support and love for part one! sorry for the wait on the second (and final) part, I just had so much trouble! the conversation between you, cass, rhys, and feyre was written like 3 different times lol. anyway, now that it is finished, please enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think! have a fabulous day! '

(also, if you have any other requests for our acotar men, please send them my way!)

oOoOo

Two days passed since Rhys and Cass had their conversation. Neither male spoken to the other since, and word had spread through the rest of the Inner Court over what had occurred. Cass, however, couldn't find it himself to care as he continued to keep vigil over your bedside, only sleeping when he could no longer force his eyes open through the weight that threatened to drag them down.

Suddenly, body feeling as though it weighed a thousand tons, you opened your eyes, groaning at the soft sunlight that streamed into the room. The sheets beneath you felt scratchier than normal beneath your body, and it took a moment to realize you were in the med wing.

You felt a heavy weight in your left hand, and carefully, you shifted your gaze to see Cassian gripped it tightly. His back and wings were hunched over as he slept in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Although you were hesitant to wake him, you needed water and to know what had happened, so you shook your hand to wake your mate up.

In response, Cass shot straight up, his siphons pulsed a warning red as if he thought you and he were in some kind of danger. But once his mind and body had more than a moment to react his hazel eyes found yours and widened to the size of saucers.

"You're up!" he shouted, tears lining his eyes. Without thinking, Cass leaned forward and engulfed your body in his, and you didn't miss the way his body shook slightly in relief.

"I'm here, I'm okay." you whispered, running your fingers through his tangled hair. "H-how long have I been out?" you whispered, voice scratchy and rough.

"Nearly a week." Cass explained, pulling away and hurrying to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, drink."

The cool relief of water slipped down your throat, and you already felt better. Sore, you tried to stretch your body out to the best of your ability while trying to recall everything that occurred after leaving the Spring Court manor. "What happened?"

Cass barely held back a growl at the thought. "While you and Rhysand were in the Spring Court, there was an armed guard looking to shoot him with an arrow. But you, being the selfless female you are," Cass chided. "jumped in front of him and were shot with an especially strong dose of poison."

Silence rested between you both, and you could feel the waves of grief that poured down from Cassian's side of the bond. You could only imagine what he must have felt like the past week. If the roles had been reversed, you would have been a mess, tearing apart anything and anyone that got in the way of your wrath.

"I-I think I remember jumping in front of Rhys. He killed the Spring Court solider right away and didn't know what to do. Somehow, he managed to winnow us both back here, and that's all I remember." you admitted.

"That damn bargain." Cass said, growling this time. "We could do the same thing, and then how fucked would the Night Court be."

There was an anger that pulsed from Cass which went deeper than just being worried about his mate. Slowly, you shifted from your spot and moved to sit up against your pillows. "Cass," you began slowly. "what else happened while I was asleep?"

Cassian did not look the least bit guilty as he looked you straight in the eyes. "I told Rhysand off. I told him how I felt about his precious bargain that allows him and Feyre to stay protected while the rest of us suffer the consequences."

An odd feeling washed over you at Cassian's words. On one hand, you can't believe that Cass spoke those words to his brother - to his High Lord. On the other hand, you always felt a small pang of pride that Cassian stood his ground, and yours by extension. But you knew neither of those feelings fixed the larger issue at hand.

"Cass," you started, before he interrupted you.

"I'm not sorry for what I said. It's something we've all been thinking since before Nyx's birth, but, apparently, I was the only one who had the balls to actually say something.

Your teeth caught against your lips, trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh at your mate's words. "I did not protect Rhys because of his and Feyre's bargain, nor because of my oath to him as High Lord." you began carefully. "I did it because he is my friend, and I know he would do the same for me." you confessed.

Cassian was disgruntled at the suggestion. Opening his mouth, most likely to spew more insults against Rhys, you beat him to the punch.

"But," you continued. "I also feel as though sometimes it is overbearing to have to be even more responsible for Rhys and Feyre's survival, especially now that Nyx is involved. I think we need to talk to them." you admitted, motioning for Cassian to rest against you so you could lean your head against his solid shoulder.

The two of you laid there for quite some time before there was a tentative knock at the door. Your High Lord and Lady stuck their heads in, trying to read Cassian's mood. However, Feyre's eyes widened when she noticed your eyes open, and body propped up in bed. A wide smile overtook her face, and she abandoned her mate to rush to your side. 

"You're awake!" she cried, grasping her free hand in yours and squeezing tightly.

Rhys continued to stand by the door, wary of Cass' razor-sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through to his soul. Only the tiniest bit of his guilt alleviated seeing you up after so long. "How are you feeling?" 

"Still sore, but doing alright." you admitted, shrugging your shoulders as though you had merely scrapped a knee.

There was an awkward silence that descended upon the room, and none of you knew how to fix it. Cass pulled you even closer to his side and threaded his hand in yours. Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhys shared a private conversation, silently debating who should be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

"I think we need to talk." you finally began. 

At the same time, Rhys blurted out. "I'm so sorry that this happened, y/n." 

You both stared at one another, really taking the other in. Rhys noted the bandage wrapped around the shoulder where the arrow had met its target. He noticed the way your eyes would flinch in pain whenever you pulled at your muscles wrong and the look of fatigue that overtook your features. From your perspective, it was impossible to miss the dark shadows under Rhys' eyes and the guilt that remained present in his eyes and across his face. 

"I don't blame you for what happened. I hope you know that, Rhysand." you said, squeezing your mate's hand, as you stared straight into Rhys' violet eyes. 

"But I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings. After everything that's happened with Spring, I don't know why I wasn't already expecting something like this to occur. That arrow was meant for me, y/n, and you saved my life." he said, eyes flickering to Feyre for a brief moment, his meaning clear. Rhys cleared his throat, trying not to sound as choked up. "I don't believe it's been said, and you deserve so much more than this, but thank you." 

The words were simple, yet heartfelt all the same. You didn't need to be a daemati to know that Rhys meant every word he spoke. Feyre nodded her head in agreement, sending a message of thanks and gratitude your way. Your heart warmed at the gesture, but a look towards Cassian told you he still was unimpressed. 

"You are my friend, no thanks necessary. Though it is appreciated nonetheless." you smiled. "But," you continued, letting the word hang in the air. "I know little of what happened before I woke up, and it feels like we need to talk about that too." 

The male holding your hand at least had the decency to shift uncomfortably at the thought. Though, he still did not start up any conversation, instead, feeling justified in the words he said to defend his mate - the love of his life. 

Feyre must have been filled in on the details of Rys' and Cass' conversation because a haunted look morphed across her features. "We never meant for our bargain to become a burden on our family." she whispered, staring down at her tattooed hands.  

Cass scoffed at the statement, and you smacked your hand against his chest and narrowed your eyes in his direction. "What?" he protested. "I thought we wanted to have an honest conversation here?" 

"Cass is right." Rhys spoke. "I don't think we every really had a discussion about what this bargain means for us as a family. So," he paused, glancing at Feyre who nodded. "we want to hear how you feel about everything that has gone down." 

"I think it was a fucking stupid idea." Cass spoke up, not caring how it sounded. 

"Harsh, but fair, I suppose." Rhys said with a stilted laugh, trying to ease the tension. 

"I think what Cass is trying to say," you began. "is that, of course, we know what our oath to you as our High Lord and Lady means. But, when you told us about the other bargain, it felt as though the weight of the world fell on our shoulders." 

Feyre reached out to grasp Rhys' hand for support. "Cassian is right, it was stupid on our part. We weren't even thinking when we made that vow." 

"What would you have done, Cassian?" Rhys added, trying to appeal to his brother.

A part of your heart ached at Feyre's words. Turning your head, you gave Cassian a soft gaze and sent a wave of love and adoration down the bond. He and you both knew there wasn't anything the other wouldn't do for you. It could have just as easily been you and he with the death bargain hanging over your shoulders. 

"Love may not always make sense, but that doesn't make it stupid. It's not like Cass and I wouldn't have done the same thing in a moment of high emotions." you admitted. "Though, our deaths don't necessarily lead to the Night Court being thrown into chaos." 

Rhys and Feyre both looked ashamed at the statement. "That is a conversation Rhys and I have had many times. And something we've been planning to share with you all. Soon." she promised, nodding solemnly.

You and Cass both nodded at the sentiment. It was a relief to know all this worrying had not been one-sided all these months. However, Feyre's words did not - nor could not - suddenly fix everything. There was still an acknowledgement of their actions that had yet to be addressed. An acknowledgement of the fear you and the rest of the Inner Circle had felt since and all the sacrifices which had been made.

"Feyre and I see the effort you and Cass have put into keeping us safe, I hope you know that." Rhys offered. "I can't say for certain what will continue to come of this situation, but Feyre and I promise to keep looking for a solution and to make sure you, and the rest of our family, feel heard. I'm sorry it's taken until tragedy struck for us to have this talk." he finished, baring the guilt and fear that had been marring his soul for the past week to you and his brother.

Cass looked his brother in the eyes, holding the stare for a few moments. Your breath stopped as you braced yourself for another blow out, but through your squinted eyes you noticed the way the tension had dissipated from Cass' body ever so slightly.

"It doesn't fix everything," Cass started, and all three of you in the room tensed, waiting for another raging display of anger. "but it's a start." he relented.

The two Illyrians locked eyes, and Cass tightened his grip on you as he and Rhys had a silent conversation. The two knew there would be much more talking and healing that needed to happen first, but eventually you were sure things would turn out all right.

After all, it was a start.

oOoOo

a/n: there it is, part 2! like I said, I was really nervous about posting this, and I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations!

tagging: @captainsophiestark, @eerievixen, @kylaisra, @tele86, @starsinyourseyes, @lisanna2000, @highladyivy

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

I didn't want to bring negativity on my last post about face lyrics but while watching I was reminded of this:

I just can't believe the nerve.

The way they try to paint a narrative of sadness and struggle and misery around Jimin's work, when literally everything we've been seeing about it has been nothing short of exhilarating. He struggled what any normal, flesh-and-bone artist goes through while working on something they really care about, but it didn't hurt him. He wasn't hurting. He wanted to talk about the things he felt and his heartache during the pandemic because he wanted to, not because it was a responsibility.

I don't know where these kind of people were when face was announced and later, released; but pjms barely talked about records or numbers. Some even thought those "goals" that army make for each comeback were too high, and that we should aim lower. People were just geniunely excited for music made by Jimin.

The same can't be said for other group of fans who, from the beginning, had the only and sole goal of "breaking records" and trying to fabricate a successful career for another member by force of remixes and versions.

There's something sinister in turning the support that people were/are trying to give Jimin into selfishness and things that have nothing to do with Jimin.

Either way, let's entertain the idea for a second and say it's about selfishness. Then, why Jimin or people who support him can't be selfish? Why is Jimin always the one who has to compromise and not be selfish?

Why can Jungkook be selfish, just take take take and take, but Jimin should be the one to put part of his life on hold or be relegated to the back of the stage?

If having equal opportunities and having fair support from the company means being selfish, then fuck yeah Jimin should be selfish. Who else is going to be selfish for him?

Or is Jungkook going to say "don't restock my CDs because none of my bandmates CDs were restocked"? Is he going to be selfless and say "split the combined versions of my songs because that's what happened to my bandmates too"? Is selflessness even expected from Jungkook or his fans?

Why weren't Jungkook's fans asked to not be selfish and buy only the same amount of remixes as everyone else got, and stream only one version of the song the same as everyone got? Why weren't Jungkook and his fans asked to not be selfish and stop supporting Jungkook? Why weren't they called selfish for asking more remixes of a song that already had 10 remixes?

This fandom is so used to Jimin being the only one compromising everything always, the only one who should put his life on hold so he can sit back and watch at the rest moving on. They're used to treating Jimin like his best trait is being there for others.

And I will talk about jikookers specifically like I've always done because merely three or four months ago I saw them praying and begging Jimin would do stuff for JK that Jungkook has never done for Jimin. I've seen them begging and praying that Jimin didn't enlist after FACE, not because they might miss him or because they worry about his health or want more music from him, but because they wanted him to be Jungkook's cheerleader during his debut. Even though during Jimin's debut Jungkook was selfish enough to never show up for Jimin. He was selfish enough that the only time he "supported" Jimin in person was the time he happened to be at hybe's so he could use their gym, and Jimin happened to be rehearsing there. But of course, it's only Jimin who's not allowed to be selfish.

[the-royal-petals]

I would like to introduce you all to my clone OC squad, the 380th!

I hope you like them!

This is going go be a long post so please bare with me! I would appreciate it if you looked through everything 💕

Trigger warnings -Mention of suicide attempts [ Mentioned in Bob's section and Kirk's section ]

Click on the clones' names to see more pictures of them :D

A 💜 emoji means next to their name means they have a post about them

Who are the 380th?

The 380th is a subdivision of the 212th legion, led by General Kenobi and Marshal Commander Cody. Although Kenobi holds the rank of General, the day-to-day operations are primarily overseen by Commander Cody, ARC Commander Bob, and Captain Tim. The legion is referred to as 'The Ravens' as a tribute to their Mandalorian comrade, Paxel Tassia, who joined their ranks. This nickname serves to assist Paxel in coming to terms with her past and embracing her new path. Known for their lively interactions and knack for accomplishing tasks in the most chaotic manner imaginable, the group shares similarities with the renowned 501st.

In order to prevent further mayhem, the Jedi Council has placed restrictions on the 380th's collaboration with the 501st. The Council fears that the combination of these two units' unruliness would only perpetuate the chaos, a concern amplified by ARC Trooper Fives and Hardcase; this was also argued by Anakin, who was immediately shut down after the argument was made about him trying to recruit Captain Tim three months ago.

The colours of the 380th is primarily consisting of, Yellow/Orange, Pink/Purple, White and Grey. The clones based their colours of Commander Cody and their Mandalorian friend who was known for her bright pink armour, combined, they created a unique design which would make them recognisable among the clones who had a single colour scheme. The White and Grey were additional colours added by Clone Sergeant Silver who had made the changes overnight, but not wanting to remove the grey from the armour, the 380th kept it.

Oh also, the 380th fucking love watermelon. If you want to befriend them, give them watermelon. Like seriously, they go feral for that shit. It’s gotten so bad that Cody has to avoid planets that have that fucking fruit and even lure them to other places with watermelon as said bait.

The clones of the 380th

You all know who Cody is so lets kick it off!

💜 ARC Commander Bob - CC 80085-1

As much as Cody hates to admit it, Bob is the official 2nd-in-Command whenever Obi-Wan isn’t around. He is the most playful one out of the 380th, often seen as energetic and selfless. Bob is always willing to greet and hug new people, sometimes without warning.

He enrolled in the ARC Trooper program a year before Fives and Echo, which enabled him to be their ARC Commander when they first joined. Some suspect that’s where the two troopers got their chaotic nature from. Despite his chaos, he is a good leader who cares for his troops, always giving them something to smile about when times get tough.

When he was a cadet, he was teased for his CT designation number, being called ‘Boobs’ constantly, and while at first it annoyed him, over time he grew to accept the nickname, soon finding the fun in it.  He sees Cody as a strong and capable leader, looking up to him in many ways.  Despite their differences, they are great friends and often annoy each other with simple jokes and pranks. 

There was one time he was asked to deliver some information to the clone base on Coruscant. Cody had conveniently forgotten to tell Bob about the change of location, so he sent him on a massive errand run, lasting a good few hours before he found the base. Needless to say he doesn’t run errands for Cody anymore.

He is insanely protective of his brothers and anybody he considers as a close friend, going as far as putting himself in danger to protect the ones he loves. Whenever anybody is feeling down or needs any support, he is the first one to their side and will not leave them until their mood improves. This was the case when Cherry was murdered by a Jedi and Chase was listed as a fugitive, but also during the time when Kirk struggled with his mental health and attempted suicide. He gave him the proper support and assisted in Kirk’s healing from the experience.  

Captain Tim - CT-84923

Unlike other captains in the GAR, Tim is seen as a stern and strict leader, following the footsteps and influence of Marshall Commander Cody He is one of the most resourceful clones in the 380th; only when a plan goes to shit. He is usually seen as sarcastic and serious, having the mentality that things must be done exactly as ordered.  But despite the orders, he usually ends up following the lead of his men—much to his dismay.

He is insanely protective over the 380th. He can and will bully his brothers for fun, but the moment someone else lays a hand on them, he will be the first one to stand up for them. Tim is the embodiment of the “organised chaos;” he is the organised and his brothers are the chaos.  Whenever something goes wrong, he will take the blame for it in hopes it’ll extend time to fix the problem.

Tim understands his men and their strengths and uses them to the best as his ability on missions. Like Bits, he is analytic and quick on his feet, able to compromise when he can. Tim is also close friends with Rex, Wolffe, Cody and Fox, wanting to be as good as a leader to them; and he may have taken a few pointers from Rex on how to deal with chaotic clones.

Whenever he is off duty, he is catching up on work or taking some alone time so he can regroup and gather his thoughts. He is a firm believer in getting a problem resolved as soon as possible rather than letting it fester and get worse.

Clone Medic Kirk - CT - 44431

Kirk, the dedicated medic of the 380th, possesses not only his invaluable medical skills but also a talent for photography. Amongst the clones, he is known as the "War Photographer," assigned by the Jedi to capture crucial media pictures and document significant incidents on the battlefield. This is also so they could prevent future incidents. While most of Kirk's photographs focus on the less graphic aspects of war, there are some that depict the harsh reality that is not suitable for the faint of heart.

These photos also require him to capture haunting images of fallen comrades. The photos take a toll on Kirk's emotional well-being, often leaving him feeling helpless and burdened by the memories they evoke.

In an attempt to shield his fellow clones from the distressing imagery, Kirk  keeps the photographs locked away in a drawer, preventing others from stumbling upon them. Once the mandated time frame for retention expires, he burns them, allowing the painful memories to be released and moving towards healing.

While Kirk maintains a certain emotional distance from others to protect himself from attachment, he consistently watches over and supports his brothers. He constantly reminds them to look after each other and cherish what they have. Despite Kirk's attempts to keep a low profile, Bob, Cody and Chase support him with whatever they can, noticing Kirk's emotional distance. 

Kirk's selflessness is well known among the 380th, as he consistently places the needs of others above his own. He is always ready to provide whatever care there is necessary. While he has close friends with Chase, he is close friends with Commander Cody and with the 501st medic, Kix.

Kirk also has symbols on his armour. The red insignia and the semicolon in mando’a. The semicolon is a symbol of mental health and not giving up, but also a symbolism for those who have attempted suicide in the past; Kirk being one of them. Kirk put it on his armour to encourage himself to never give up hope, but also to keep going through his struggles of mental health. He hopes this inspires others to do the same. 

After his incident, Kirk had to be pulled out of service for a month until he gained control over his mental health and evaluated until he was fit for duty again.During this process he had Cody, Bob, Irony, Obi-Wan and Chase by his side. Now he is encouraging and supporting other clones who need the help.

ARC Trooper Chase - CT-54323

ARC Trooper Chase is the most serious and disciplined of the 380th squad.  He respects Commander Fox and Wolffe, embodying a strong sense of duty, he follows orders without hesitation. Chase's no-nonsense attitude can sometimes lead to irritation when his fellow clones deviate from established protocols. However, beneath his stoic exterior, he harbours a profound love and loyalty for his brothers.

He can be seen as the most protective clone in the 380th, more than Kirk or Tim. Chase is extremely distrusting of Jedi due to an incident that occured many years ago where an ex-ARC Trooper, Cherry, was killed by the hands of a Jedi master, being depicted as traitorous and a fugitive to the republic. 

Chase knew that these allegations were false, knowing his brother was framed and in the process of investigating, he too was depicted as a traitor; because of this, he lost trust in the Jedi and the people who were supposed to be protecting them. During those investigations, two Jedi came forward, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who believed Chase and helped  clear his name from the charges.

However, despite everything, he is still seen as untrustworthy and unreliable. Only his brothers see him for who he truly is. (Along with Plo and Obi-Wan.) Since then, Chase has been insanely protective over his brothers, not allowing new people to linger too long near them. It takes him a while to get to trust people; but once you gain his trust, he will fight for you.  Irony was also another member in the 380th who helped to find out the truth behind the incident. It was soon revealed that Pong Krell was behind the attack and the killing of Cherry.

Lieutenant Silver - CT- 51723

Out of the 380th, Silver is the collector and the most child-like. He has a massive interest in anything metallic and shiny, with exceptions to some other things. He is awfully cuddly whenever he finds a new friend and is always willing to trade with anybody for trinkets; in return  he gives out rations or even any supplies he finds on his travels. Silver is intelligent, strong, and loves working with other people. While he can be rather childish at times, he is a loyal and reliable member. Whenever he trusts somebody enough, he will make them a small keychain with their name on it and maybe with a gem or something else that reminds him of that person. To get one of these is an honour in his world. 

Every member of the 380th has one and to get one means you are an official member and have passed the test. Despite his nature, he is resourceful and intelligent. Some people may see his trinkets as a mess or an interference on missions, but on multiple occasions, he has used them as a weapon (handed over to Bits) or included in explosives to help get rid of the enemy. He’s one of the best at improvising.

Silver is also someone who helps design and improve the armour with modifications and even assist in repairs with Meddel whenever he can. If the worst comes to worst, he will help be the back-up mechanic, though that is something Meddel wishes to never happen.

 Lieutenant Bits - CT-81754

Whenever he’s not on a high-risk mission, he is always trying to find things to blow up, even if there is no need to. Bits is the bane of Tim’s existence and if Silver’s constant hunt for shiny stuff isn’t the thing that gives him a migraine that day, it’s Bits. He is constantly on the move and leaving things about—if he’s not sorting out their arsenal, he’s studying separatist buildings, if he’s not doing that, he’s helping to create new weapons. 

He is seen to be the most chaotic out of the group. He is always coming up with new ways to better their strategies and much to Tim’s dismay is essential to the 380th’s success. Whenever possible, he’s giving people the chance to blow things up with him. 

Bits absolutely loves food. He is also one of the only people in the 380th who can actually cook something edible and prevent them from living on watermelon for the rest of their lives.

Sergeant Irony - 69423

Known for getting into Ironic situations, Irony is the pilot of the 380th. He is loyal, kind and has a massive love for ducks. He has the ability to be quick on his feet, and the ability to use humour to diffuse tense and difficult situations. Irony is one of the more relaxed people in the 380th, willing to crack a joke about how ironic something is and see things for how they really are. 

He is a realistic sort of thinker and doesn’t really like to have things sugarcoasted. Whenever there is a problem, he doesn’t stop at anything until he finds out the truth, even if it means going against orders to find it. (An example of this was when Cherry was framed for being a fugitive, soon being killed by a Jedi, did he assist in exposing the truth. It’s because of him that it prevented Chase from being executed or court martialled.) This sort of thinking has gotten him into a lot of trouble over the years, but it has always been for the greater good. He has a fear of heights, which earned him the “Irony” nickname by Meddel. They are close friends and grew up together in the cadets program.

Meddel was the one who encouraged him to become a pilot in the first place. Irony is a person who searches for any kind of adrenaline, doing whatever it takes to find the joys in life.

He is the original creator of the codenames: “Mother Duck” and “Duckling.”  Much to the dismay of the 380th, he is the creator of other code names and nobody can really argue with it.

Corporal Beetle - 833713

Beetle is known to be the hermit of the 380th, known for his introverted and ‘dark light’ seeking nature. He’s very stealthy and good at sneaking around even if he doesn’t mean to. Many clones have reported him ‘teleporting’ because they didn’t see him move. 

He is a very reserved and cuddly individual who takes an interest in anything bright and colourful, which is why he’s close friends with Bits. You can usually find him hiding under the table or in a dark place with his datapad in hand. Bits is good at problem solving and has a good knowledge of computer and security systems. He’s the go-to whenever they need someone to sneak into place. 

It takes a while for Beetle to get to know somebody, but once he’s comfortable you can find him sleeping on Bits, Bob or even Cody. Whenever he’s not doing anything, he is usually sleeping. He’s known for creating drawing ideas for Silver and even handing him unique shiny things. 

Whenever he is not cuddling someone, you can usually find him alone watching people. Beetle is also very aware of his surroundings and is able to understand people’s moods before everyone else. He’s insanely good at reading people’s body language.

Corporal Meddel - CT-84324

Meddel is the engineer of the 380th and the backup pilot for Irony. He is meticulous and has a good attention to detail, being someone who has pride in his word and one of the most important members within the team. Whenever he is not flying ships or is in meetings, he is making sure the gear, weapons and machines are working and up to standard.

Whenever they get inspections, he is the first person to check over everybody before the Jedi enter the barracks. Despite being an introvert, he is good at teamwork and collaborating with his fellow clones, especially Silver and Irony. 

Meddel is always giving Silver his tools to use whenever he wants to make things, but other times he finds his tools going missing. Despite that, Meddel is very protective over his stuff and will go feral whenever people move something he had put into place.

Usually, he is found lingering around the hangar or flying with Irony in the sky. His favourite ship is the x-wing and has been trying to get one painted the colour of his armour, but Cody keeps declining. He also really fucking likes watermelon. He will do anything to get that shit. Not to mention, he was the person who got the 380th into that fucking fruit. It has gotten so bad that Cody has to check in advance that the planet they go to does not have any watermelon on it. 

Who do you like the most?

[wisteriashouse]

irresistible.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw, fuck or die troupe (i can’t believe i did this)

word count: 5015

remarks: a commission by the lovely @sburbanjumble​!! i hope you enjoy sweet and spicy kyoujurou <3 this is a rewrite of desire, but if kyoujurou were the one hit by the demon instead!

This demon is unlike any other you’ve ever faced before.

“Kyoujurou, follow up on my attack!” You shout as you press forward with your blade, putting all your strength in your arms as you aim for the demon’s neck. Eyes widening as your nichirin blade descends in a gleaming arc, the demon barely manages to throw up her arms in time to shield herself, and there’s a couple of wet thumps as her limbs fall to the grass, sliced clean off by your sword. Behind you, Kyoujurou leaps down, his sword held high as he swings.

“Flame Breathing, Third Form, Blazing Universe!”

You have to leap out of the way to dodge the shockwaves from Kyouojurou’s strike, so powerful that you feel the ground under your feet tremble for a second. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon is just as fast as well - before Kyoujurou’s sword can cut clean through her neck, she vanishes in a cloud of sickly smelling smoke.

Your eyes dart around the darkness of the forest, blade already held up in an offensive stance for the slightest signal to attack, but Kyoujurou lands nimbly in front of you, holding out one hand to pull you back and the other gripping his own sword tight.

“We still don’t know what her abilities are or what her smoke does. Don’t be too hasty,” he warns you, voice low. Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but at your partner’s stern words, you force yourself to take a few breaths to calm yourself down. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down.

“Okay, I got it.” Adjusting the grip on your sword once more, you let out a breath and hold up your blade. “I got caught up in the moment for a bit. Sorry about that.”

The battle hardened expression on Kyoujurou’s face breaks for just a second to beam at you warmly, and its familiarity puts you at ease. “It’s no problem,” Kyoujurou smiles. “You know I’ve always got your back no matter what-” his eyes widen for a split second at something behind you. “Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, however, five shining claws erupt out of the shadows straight towards you - only your reflexes, honed from years of training, allow you to dodge by jumping back right in time, the trace of a sickly sweet scent tickling your nose. Its regeneration speed is fast. Behind you, Kyoujurou slashes at the demon once more, but it vanishes into the darkness of the forest before the blade can connect. Disoriented and senses thrown into disarray by the sudden attack, you almost don’t notice fangs bared at you until it’s too late.

“[name]!” There’s a forceful tug on your arm and you’re sent stumbling forward a few steps, clouds of fuschia pink smoke erupting into the air right where you’d been standing less than a second ago. You’re left coughing and hacking as a sickly fragrance, but through the murky haze clouding your mind, you remember Kyoujurou, who was left standing in the spot that you’d been in prior.

“Kyoujurou!” Gripping your sword tightly with one hand and waving the residue smoke away from your face with the other, your eyes dart about the clearing, searching for Kyoujurou. “Are you alright?”

You find Kyoujurou surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and his hands clasped over his mouth, the demon responsible for it all cackling madly as she raises her claws, pointed tips glinting in the dim light of the moon. Before she can bring them down, however, you lunge forward with your blade with a forward strike, the tip of your blade piercing clean through her shoulder and pinning her against a tree. The pained scream that she lets out must have been heard for miles around.

You take this brief moment to glance back at Kyoujurou, heart hammering wildly in your chest with concern. “Kyoujurou, are you alright?” You call, voice urgent. Kyoujurou does not reply, instead shaking his head firmly as he hunches over, clearly in discomfort. Poison, perhaps? Anxiety floods through you, but you steel yourself and turn back to the demon.

“What did your smoke do to him?”

The demon only laughs at your demand, even as blood trickles down the wound on her shoulder. “Did you really think I would tell you? Think again! As if I would ever tell an accursed demon slayer like you-”

Gripping your sword by the handle, you wrench it with all your might and the demon lets out another shriek of agony, so shrill you can feel your ears ringing. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” you say icily, teeth gritted. While you take no pleasure in causing another creature’s pain, even demons, there’s only so much dallying you can take when Kyoujurou is suffering behind you. “Tell me, and I will speed your passing. If not...” You raise your sword in a wordless warning.

It is brief, but you catch the faintest flicker of fear in the demon’s eyes as she stares up at you. For good measure, you tighten your grip on your sword once more, ready to drive it into her flesh a second time, but she speaks.

“Fine,” she spits, her glare so venomous you can almost feel it eating away at your skin. “My smoke causes an... arousal of the human senses, sending them into overdrive and consuming the mind. If that man doesn’t lie with someone...” her smile is fanged with wicked amusement, “his mind will go insane with lust and he’ll suffer in agonizing pain!”

At her words, your breath is caught in your throat. As much as you want to say that all demons do is lie, from the look in her eyes to the triumphant grin on her blood stained lips, all the signs say that she is telling the truth. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time nor luxury to ponder over this too much, not when every second counts now.

“Then, just as I promised.” Yanking your sword from her flesh, you decapitate her with one swift strike - too fast for her to even let out another scream. Even before her severed head has hit the ground, you’re already running to Kyoujurou’s side, the man having sagged to his knees and only kept upright by the sword he’s driven into the ground to use as a crutch. Crouching next to him, you support his weight as gently as you can, but the heat radiating off his skin takes you by surprise. “Kyoujurou, you’re burning up!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou barely manages to make out between laboured breaths, his face twisted from the discomfort. Quickly, you raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his hand latches onto your wrist before you can so much as touch his bare skin. He’s trembling faintly, as hard as he tries to conceal it from you, and it almost scares you to see him like this. “Don’t… Not when I’m like this. You should probably leave.”

“What?” You hiss at him, equal parts angry and baffled. “This isn’t a matter of pride, Kyoujurou! I know that you’re a Pillar, but you’ll most definitely not be fine like this. We need to get you to the nearest village, then we can think about what we can do from there. Maybe they’ll have strong enough painkillers that will be able to knock you out for a while, or something to help alleviate the pain-”

“The nearest village is at least a day’s travel from here,” Kyoujurou cuts you off, shaking his head urgently. “And besides, it’s not safe for you to be here with me right now.” You catch him glancing at you for a second before his gaze leaves you, but is that a hint of… desire you see flickering in his eyes? “The state the demon has put my body in is an unprecedented one… I don’t know what I’ll do to you like this. It would be safer if you put some distance between the two of us… I can already feel it growing worse.”

At his words, you frown in confusion for a moment before realisation descends upon you. So that’s what the demon had meant by arousal of the senses…

“But I can’t just leave you like this,” you begin to protest, anxious, but Kyoujurou waves you off.

“I’ll be fine.” Even though he’s the one in this state, he’s still trying to reassure you. “The blood demon art should wear off when dawn comes, so I need only endure this,” he shudders, body tensing up for a second, “until morning. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Even as Kyoujurou says these words, you can see his body starting to shake almost violently, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see the veins protruding along the side of his neck. It just makes you feel even worse when you remember that he had only gotten into this situation trying to save you, or else your roles would be reversed right now. Sunrise is still hours away. Chewing on your bottom lip, you force yourself to concentrate. Think, think, think! What did the demon say about his condition earlier?

If that man doesn’t lie with someone…

You falter for a moment. By lie, she can’t possibly have meant…

There’s no other meaning for the word lie that can be applied in this context, is there?

You glance worriedly at Kyoujurou, but the man only shakes his head. He must have heard the demon’s words from earlier and already made up his mind, without so much as consulting you, no less. Stupid, selfless, self sacrificing Kyoujurou. When will he learn to put himself before others for a change? Does he have any idea how you’ll feel leaving him to suffer like this until sunrise comes, all while knowing that you could have done something to fix this?

For some reason, that thought only frustrates you to no end, and making up your mind with that, you reach for the top button of your uniform.

Before you can begin undoing your shirt, however, Kyoujurou’s hand grips latches around your wrist, so hard you can almost feel the beginning of bruises forming on your skin. Kyoujurou is always careful whenever it comes to you, so it’s a testament to the extent that the blood demon art has affected him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. When you look up at him questioningly, his brow is furrowed with confusion, lips parted.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You hiss back, but you can feel your own fingers trembling slightly from the nerves. “If you… lie with me, it should relieve the pain brought about by the demon’s blood art. Friends would do this for each other, wouldn’t they?”

Would they, though? The thought just makes you uncomfortable, so you simply shrug it aside. You can think about that after you’ve solved Kyoujurou’s problem. However, Kyoujurou’s answer takes you by surprise.

“I cannot,” Kyoujurou says immediately, voice so firm you’re taken by surprise for a second. Is he perhaps worried about your discomfort? In comparison to the pain he seems to be in now, body wracked with shivers and teeth gritted so hard you can almost hear his jaw creak, it will be nothing.

��I really don’t mind,” you begin to say, but Kyoujurou cuts you off once more.

“No.”

“Kyoujurou, this is not the time to be stubborn,” you try to shrug him off, but the grip he has on your wrist is too tight. Frustrated, you glare up at Kyoujurou. You want to help him, but you can’t do anything if he insists on being like this. “Why do you reject me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you? To the point that you’d prefer to suffer like this?”

The more you shout, the more frustrated you feel, tears starting to escape the corners of your eyes. His rejection does sting, yes, but more than that is the helplessness you feel when you see him in pain, yet are unable to do anything to alleviate it.

“So you’re telling me to just walk away?” You continue to shout, voice breaking. Your throat feels thick. “Well, curse it, Kyoujurou, I can’t just do something like that. I-”

A gentle pressure on your lips cuts your words off, and you look up in surprise through wet lashes to see Kyoujurou’s finger pressed against your mouth to silence you. There’s a conflicted expression on his face, caught between a pained frown and a tender smile.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps quietly, managing a smile to comfort you even through his own pain. “You shouldn’t give your body so easily to me... it should be saved for the person that you want to give your heart to. Didn’t you tell me before that… there’s someone who you hold feelings for?”

You stare at him in shock. Why is he still thinking about something like this even now? And besides…

“I cannot possibly let you do that knowing that you have feelings for someone else,” Kyoujurou continues. He’s struggling to get the words out now, his breaths shallow. “So, there is no need to worry about me, I assure you that I will be fine-”

“What if,” your words come out a whisper, “I told you that someone is you?”

For a moment, nothing but those words hang in the silence between the two of you. Kyoujurou’s eyes are wide with shock, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. You’re determined to convey every bit of genuinity in your heart and make it known - perhaps the demon was in fact a blessing in disguise that created the circumstance to put aside your cowardice and reveal your true feelings to him now.

“I understand if you don’t return my feelings,” you say firmly, before Kyoujurou can say a word. “However, I too, assure you… that doing this with you…” it feels strange, saying it out loud like this, “it wouldn’t be a bad thing… to me at least. So please, let me help you.”

Kyoujurou is still staring at you, but then he lets out a pained groan and crumples over, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Frantic, you race over to help him up, but the second you touch him, you feel a pair of hands grip your waist before the entire night sky above seems to flip over your head. The next thing you know, you’re on your back in the grass, Kyoujurou straddling your hips. You can’t see the expression on his face, his breath ghosting the side of your neck.

You swallow, but raise a hand to rest it on the top of his head comfortingly. “You okay, Kyoujurou?”

“Ahh… this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” Kyoujurou murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you almost yelp when you feel teeth roughly scrape the delicate skin.

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“It should have started with my confession,” your momentary shock is cast aside when you feel a large hand sliding up your side, up your ribs to the collar of your uniform shirt, playing at the top button as if to distract himself. “I would have brought you out to dinner, perhaps some flowers… and yet here we are, doing everything backwards. On the forest floor, no less. It is not the place I would have chosen for our first time together.”

All you can manage is a laugh, something akin to warmth burning in your chest as quiet joy overflows. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind,” you whisper. Taking his hand, you place it firmly against the top of your collar, the brass of your button cool against your joined hands. “So please, Kyoujurou.”

You can feel it, the deep breath he takes before he descends, mouth kissing along the bare skin of your neck while his hand deftly undoes the buttons of your uniform. Before you have time to be nervous, Kyoujurou’s lips are already on the slope of your collarbones, nipping and sucking lightly as you gasp. “Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, and you have to fight back your blush.

As your top slips off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his gaze, you shiver slightly as the cold of the night air leaves goosebumps on your skin. Kyoujurou, ever attentive, notices right away. “Don’t worry,” his fingers trail down your side, before they’re replaced by his lips, hot against your bare skin. The sensation is foreign, a little ticklish even, but strangely welcome, and you have to try not to squirm. “I’ll warm you up in a moment.”

His hands tug at the buckle of your belt even as he continues to map out your body with his mouth, leaving little bruises and marks on you. They sting pleasantly, and with each new one Kyoujurou adds to your skin, you fight back a little moan at the feeling, pressing your legs together to alleviate the strange ache there. Although the night is cool, you feel hot, burning up together with Kyoujurou as he makes good on his promise to warm you up. Perhaps the demon’s blood art is contagious? You wouldn’t mind...

There’s a metallic clink, and the belt around your waist loosens before it slides off you, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Your uniform pants follow soon after, slipped down your legs together with your undergarments, and it’s then you feel cool air brushing against you right there.

Suddenly shy, you press your thighs together, unable to bear the way Kyoujurou’s eyes rake over your body almost hungrily. Still, for all his desire, he remains patient with you, coaxing your legs open carefully with a gentle touch that you can’t help but obey. Fingers skimming up your legs, first from your ankles up to the crook of your knee and finally to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you bite back a whimper the closer his touch comes to where you need it most.

Slowly, almost carefully, Kyoujurou runs the tip of his fingers along your damp folds and you shudder, the seemingly light touch intensifying ten fold and sending little shockwaves of pleasure down your body. It feels strange, but your body chases it of its own accord, pressing against his hand in a silent plea for more.

“Does it feel good?” Kyoujurou whispers, and you nod urgently. Anything to get rid of that aching, sudden emptiness in you.

“Please,” your voice comes out as a whine, and if you weren’t so aroused you would be mortified by how needy you sound. Isn’t it supposed to be Kyoujurou who is affected by the demon’s spell? “Touch me, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm, don’t be impatient,” his thumb rubs circles over you, its glide made effortless by the slick now coating his fingers. The pressure relieves you for a second before an even more intense need crashes hot on its heels, unrelenting. When you whine again, all composure now thrown to the wind, Kyoujurou bites his lip and probes, his finger parting your folds to sink into you slowly. Your gasp catches in your throat, and all you can do is let your head fall back as your walls tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside you.

“More,” you plead, nearly begging him now. One finger isn’t nearly enough, and Kyoujurou proceeds to press another into you even as you squirm on his fingers. A short, bitten off moan escapes you when he starts to move his fingers at a leisurely pace, pumping them in and out of you with an obscene squelching sound. “Kyoujurou, don’t tease.”

“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you,” you tremble under him when he begins to scissor you carefully, making sure to stretch you out so that you’ll be able to take him more easily later. Eager for more but unable to complain, you move your hips towards his hands so that his fingers can press deeper into you, shuddering when his fingers crook against a certain spot. Reaching up, you curl your hands at the nape of his neck and tugging him down towards you so that you can kiss him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, hot and wet, as his fingers still continue to move in you. Arching your back in an attempt to draw closer to him, you suck on his tongue lightly and Kyoujurou lets out a groan, a rumble from deep within his chest.

“Ready, ready,” you break the kiss to tell him, helplessly fucking yourself on his fingers. Pleasure sets every nerve ending alight, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. “Please, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes gleam, but you too, can see how badly he needs it. He’s trembling, almost feverishly now, but still he manages a smile as he looks down at you. “Always so impatient with me,” he dips down to plunder your mouth once more, rough and forceful this time, curling his fingers in you and causing you to pant into his mouth. This draws a slight laugh out of him. His fingers slip out of you, and you let out a long, keening whine in complaint.

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes your thigh and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you wanting.”

Even through the feeling of Kyoujurou’s body on yours and his lips of your skin, you faintly hear the clink of a belt being undone. A moan of anticipation leaves you, and you can’t help but part your legs in response. You need more, more to alleviate the burning ache in you that just doesn’t seem to abate.

Something presses against your entrance, hard and heavy, and your hips press against it involuntarily, demanding more. To your confusion, Kyoujurou doesn’t enter you immediately, instead taking a moment to run his length up and down your folds, and you let out a pathetic little moan when he denies you. Kyoujurou laughs, but it’s rougher, lower this time.

“Impatient,” he repeats, leaning over you. You look up at him pleadingly, sure that tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how badly you need it, but Kyoujurou leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me you want it.”

You gape at him, words leaving you for a second at his sudden demand. “Wha-”

“I need to know that you want this as much as I do.” Kyoujurou’s hands trace the spot over your heart, littered with bruises that will probably turn into dark red blooms tomorrow morning. “Tell me with your own words and your mouth that you want this.”

“I-” You flush, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment. The words feel almost shameful on your tongue, but you remind yourself that this is Kyoujurou. “I…” Your voice comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyoujurou. I really do.”

Kyoujurou smiles in response, kissing you gently. His hands slide down to your knees, parting your legs and coaxing them to wrap around his waist, which you obey immediately. That’s when you feel him begin to press into you, parting your folds and slowly sinking into you. At first, the stretch is still bearable, but the further he slides into you, you can’t help but let out a little cry as you stretch more to accommodate his length.

“Too much?” Kyoujurou presses kisses to your hair, the crown of your head. You shake your head determinedly, tightening the hold your legs have around his waist.

“N-no, keep going,” you say, clinging to his form. Kyoujurou looks over you with concern in his eyes, before he nips comfortingly on your lower lip.

“You can bite down on me if you want,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

With those words, he begins moving again, and you fight back another sob as he stretches you open further. Unable to stand the pain, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his shoulder. True to his word, Kyoujurou doesn’t even flinch when your teeth break his skin. Instead, he only rubs soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh in a silent bid to comfort.

You’re no stranger to pain, and you’ve trained in many ways to dull it in your years as a demon slayer. Taking a deep breath, you focus your mind and instruct your body to relax, allowing Kyoujurou to slip deeper into you. After a few moments, the pain begins to abate, and you carefully regulate your breathing before you grip his hand tight.

He glances down at you and you nod wordlessly. With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Kyoujurou begins to move once more, and although the ache still lingers, it has already started to dull, replaced by that feeling of fullness that you had experienced earlier with Kyoujurou’s fingers in you, only this time magnified a hundredfold.

When he finally sinks in you all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment to adjust to the near overwhelming feeling of being filled so completely, busying yourself with sucking marks into Kyoujurou’s neck like he’d done for you earlier. Kyoujurou groans lowly in his throat, murmuring words of encouragement with each mark you leave on his skin - he seems pleased about it. When your teeth latch on to the lobe of his ear, Kyoujurou begins pulling out of you, much to your despair, but before you can whine about it once more, Kyoujurou slams back into you with a smooth, forceful thrust, and your words turn into nothing more than a choked gasp trapped in your throat.

After that, he doesn’t give you a second to breathe, hips pistoning in you with fervour, and all you can do is lie back and take it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Kyoujurou runs his mouth over your shoulder, your forehead, your collarbone. Faintly, you feel Kyoujurou’s hand work its way between your bodies, coming to a stop at where your bodies are joined. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his fingers slip down to worry your clit roughly and you let out a cry, nails digging into the skin at his back and arms as you cling to him. Kyoujurou hums, a pleased, satisfied sound and only redoubles his efforts, causing your body to tremble with sensation.

The pleasure builds up in you, almost overwhelming, a wave of pleasure surging straight for you. Before you can warn Kyoujurou, it crashes over you and a high pitched sob works its way out of your throat, your body trying to curl up on itself as if that will alleviate the intensity that’s overtaking your body. Above you, you distantly register Kyoujurou’s low groan as his thrusts lose their rhythm before he pulls out of you completely, something warm splattering on your thigh.

Too tired to form words, you simply hold out your arms and Kyoujurou instantly moves into them, tugging you into his hold so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Already, you can feel the beginnings of an ache in your legs and arms, and from what the older demon slayers have told you before, your… abdomen would probably feel the same way as well tomorrow. Still, you think, looking up at Kyoujurou’s flushed but content face, you think that this was completely worth it.

A gentle kiss to your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Kyoujurou with a slight smile on his face as he gazes down at you. “Are you feeling alright? I might have been a bit too rough there.” His fingertips trace your bare shoulders, the love bites at your neck, and finally your lips. You shake your head, content to go limp against him as he cradles you carefully.

“No, I’m fine.” Glancing up at him, you wonder if the flush on his cheeks is from the earlier exertion or if he’s still affected by the demon’s spell. You try to raise a hand, but overestimate your strength - your hand falls back to your lap before it can even reach halfway to his forehead. Still, Kyoujurou only picks up your own hand with his and presses it to his forehead for you, and you’re relieved to find out that although his body temperature is running warm, it’s nothing like the unnatural heat that had been burning him up from before. “It’s good that you’re alright now.”

“[name]...” The solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice takes you by surprise. When you glance at him, you see him looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow, hesitation flickering in his golden eyes. “The words you spoke earlier, about the person that you had feelings for being me… was that the truth?”

You blink at him, slightly confused. Had you not been genuine enough with your feelings earlier? Determined to put this doubt to rest, you grab him by the cheeks with a strength that you certainly didn’t have earlier, pulling him close so that your foreheads are pressed against each other’s and you can feel his breath dancing over your skin.

“You, yes you.” You repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips, which helplessly turn up in a smile under your affections. You can’t help the smile on your face that mirrors his own, his happiness palpable and all too contagious. “I can’t believe that it took a situation like this for me to confess. You better make it up to me, you hear me?”

Kyoujurou laughs, nuzzling your neck. “Okay, okay. The sequence is out of order now but,” he smiles at you, “how about I bring you out to dinner? My treat, of course.”

You have to press your face against his shoulder to hide your smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

[crazypaperwasteland]

Insanity Left Me Alone

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Guns, violence, talk of pedophilia, people being mean and spreading rumors, Daryl being super supportive, fluff

Summary: (Y/N) Walsh, Shane’s sister, has struggled with self image ever since her brother’s death. When the people from Woodbury enter the prison, she figures out that she is more like her brother than she thought, so does everyone else. (Y/N) can barely handle the rumors that fly her way, speculation about who her brother was and what she might do to anyone that stands in her way. When she can no longer stands it, a situation presents itself and puts her humanity to the test. There’s only one person in the entire prison that has faith in her in that regard, Daryl fucking Dixon.

Masterlist 

Told from (Y/N) Walsh’s POV

I knew my brother had lost his mind, in fact, I knew before anyone else that my brother was gone. Shane had always been that selfless, humorous kid that wasn’t afraid to fuck someone up if they messed with anyone he cared about. That included me and Rick, anyone that we were associated with that we cared about, he treated all of us like family. But when the world went to shit, that protectiveness turned into something more like….obsession. 

Shane eliminated any threat that he saw to his perfect fantasy of having a family, with Lori as his wife and Carl as his son, and the baby as his child. The scientific word for what Shane was is a sociopath. Every one of his reactions to protect what he perceived to be his was premeditated. 

Although, my brother hadn’t been entirely wrong when he talked about what the world was after the walkers came to be. He was telling us what we needed to know about the world, it was harsh and sometimes you had to do what you needed to do, and sometimes there wasn’t always another option, a more noble option. 

After the people from Woodbury entered the prison, there were a few that piqued my interest, particularly, they creeped me out beyond belief, they seemed dangerous in a way, in different ways. But not to me, to the original group from the farm. Every damn time someone I deemed as a potential threat to any of them, I reminded myself that my brother thought the same thing. And his insanity left me all alone, he left me by myself, it was his choice, and he chose to leave me. Everytime warning bells went off in my brain, I couldn’t help but think that whatever made my brother sick in the head was in me too. 

Those thoughts got infinitely worse when the people from Woodbury somehow caught wind of the fact that my brother had lost his mind in the place we were last. I tried to stay strong, I tried to ignore the whispers I heard from them whenever I passed by, but there was always one person who saw through my indifferent act. Daryl fucking Dixon. 

Daryl hadn’t even liked my brother, but for some reason, he’d always be around somehow. We spent an entire winter together, learning to take care of each other, but most of us when the people from Woodbury entered the prison just….stopped. We all had jobs and it wasn’t just about survival anymore, it was about making a community, about rebuilding a world worth living in.

Rick and Carl had their crops, Hershel too. Beth had taking care of the kids, Carol had making sure everyone could defend themselves, Michonne was always out looking for the Governor. The council was made up of multiple people in various specialties, I just happened to be on the council. I was in charge of putting people in shifts, watchtower, fences, picking people to go out on runs and who with. 

Even though all of us had jobs to do that were more important than maintaining relationships, Daryl always seemed to be around me. Almost like he was following me. It wasn’t creepy or anything, just weird. 

After a month of the people from Woodbury being at the prison, there were already many rumors about me and my brother floating around. The day I finally broke down about it was the day that I’d heard a group of people from Woodbury talking. 

I’d been walking through one of the cell blocks that the people from Woodbury had moved into, looking for Hershel. The illness spreading around the prison had him working like a dog day and night, but there was a council meeting he was already late to. 

“I bet she’s the one who killed Karen and David,” I heard one of the women in the circle of people whisper as I walked past. “Doin’ whatever the hell she’s gotta do to protect her people. I heard her brother was the same way, killing and threatening everyone in his group just to make his way to the top.” Multiple people gave their input, all agreement with that statement. 

I stopped in my tracks, drawing the nervous attention of a few of them. I looked all of them over, my throat tightening, my head spinning with thoughts. Yes, I would do whatever it took to protect my group, they got that right. But they couldn’t possibly be right about me being the same as my brother, could they?

“Stacy, go and relieve Joe from watchtower duty, you’ll stay up there until midnight and then find someone to take over your shift,” I addressed the woman who started the conversation. It was currently noon. I saw Daryl approaching quickly, my frustration rising at the look of anger on his face. He must have heard them talking. “Karter, the rest of you, get back to the jobs I know I assigned you to today.” They all scurried off. 

I clenched my teeth and took a few deep breaths when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned and shoved Daryl away, he stumbled back before steadying himself with slightly wide eyes. “I do not need you to tell me they’re wrong, Daryl.” He clamped his lips together, I took a breath, my anger dissipating. 

“You know, your brother fought it too,” Daryl decided to say. I closed my eyes, closing my mouth and begging the tears to not come to my eyes. “But his urge to protect the people he loved just became toxic, you’re not like him in that way.”

We’d had that conversation numerous times, and each time, I said the same thing. “You don’t know that.” I turned away from him, wiping at my eyes with my shirt sleeve, “we have to get to the council meeting, c’mon.”

I heard him follow me, but I didn’t turn back to see him. I knew he’d just be looking at me with some kind of pity. Just like all the members of the original group did.

I eventually found Hershel and reminded him of the meeting. All three of us walked to the library together. After the meeting started and we discussed the symptoms of the illness and how it was likely a flu strain, Hershel started to explain about what he needed to treat the sick people. 

“It’s not the virus itself that kills people, it’s the symptoms. If we can treat the symptoms, we can keep them alive long enough for their bodies to fight off the virus on their own,” Hershel explained. “There’s a veterinary college a few hours from here that would have everything we need, I wouldn’t risk a hospital, besides, they would both have the same things.” Hershel turned to me from where I stood with my back to the bookshelves, leaning against them with my arms crossed, “(Y/N), could you put together a group of people to send on the run?” I nodded once in response, not feeling like talking unless it was necessary. 

I took out a piece of paper and wrote down a few names, including Daryl. In a last minute decision, I wrote down my own name. I handed it to Daryl, he looked at it for a second before turning his head to look at me again. “Yer goin’?”

Hershel’s brows flew up a bit, I nodded once again. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think that I need to get out of here for a day, is that okay with everyone?” I snapped lightly, no one argued with or questioned me after that. 

I was busy packing up the car we were taking when I felt a tap on my shoulder, light and delicate. I turned around, expecting to see one of the little kids we had at the prison, because anyone else would have just called my name. But I saw Beth standing there, playing her hands. 

“You’re takin’ Josh with you?” She asked timidly, looking down. I furrowed my brow at that, she was never so young looking, never so….childlike.

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s been…” she trailed off, “me and some of the other women at the prison have felt uncomfortable around him. He makes….these weird remarks that are either sexual or just creepy. He’s made some about Judith in the past too when he saw me and the others playing with her.”

I tilted my head, “have you told anyone? Rick?”

“Rick won’t listen, and if he won’t, I don’t think anyone will,” Beth murmured, “I just thought I’d warn you about him.”

“We’re listenin’ Beth,” Daryl came to stand beside me, obviously having been listening. “We’ll keep an eye on him, won’t we, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah, we will,” I assured her. I pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated immediately, wrapping her arms tightly around me. “In the future though, if he ever makes you or the other girls uncomfortable, you come and get me or Daryl, you understand?” She nodded against my shoulder. She pulled back, giving me a small smile and finally looking me in the eye for more than two seconds. 

“I have to get back to Judith,” she told us, “but you all be careful out there, okay?” We nodded and she turned, walking into the prison, taking a few steps to the right when Josh came strolling out with his bag thrown over his shoulder, his long brown ponytail brushing against his back. 

Daryl saw me glaring at Josh when he got into the back of the car, waiting with the others for me and Daryl to get in the front. Daryl placed a hand on my shoulder softly, I didn’t shove him away that time. “You’re not your brother, but that group of asswipes got one thing right. You’ll do whatever you gotta do to protect us.” He leaned down to whisper to me, “I’m with you, whatever you choose to do.”

That sentiment warmed my heart more than I would ever let him know, so I gave him a small smile and nodded once, getting into the passenger seat, letting him drive. 

The entire run, Josh had been getting on the nerves of everyone. Mostly me and Michonne, but we were all annoyed and freaked out by everything he would say or do. I hadn’t really ever talked to him much, he’d seemed like a fairly normal guy before. But after hearing Beth tell me about his behavior, I suddenly noticed all of the red flags there. 

Unfortunately though, due to walkers when we were making our way through the streets and towards the car, we had to split up. I was left alone with Tyreese and Josh. I was thankful to have Tyreese there, even if he was a bit unhinged at that moment. He was a big guy, and despite being in a rough place, he put himself in the middle of me and Josh. Not wanting him to be near me. I’d seen him do it intentionally. 

“You know you ain’t never put me on a run before, (Y/N),” Josh said in his trashy accent, “I’ve got to say, I’m grateful. I got to spend some quality time with you and the others you put on the run.” He sounded like the type of person whose teeth would be rotting or yellow, even though they were in fact not. I kept my hand on my gun, partly for fear of walkers and because I didn’t like how friendly he was being, despite Tyreese being there. “Some of the people back at the prison just don’ get me, you get me?” He chuckled to himself, even though neither me or Tyreese were laughing. “Of course you do, people do the same to you, that was a dumb question.”

Tyreese glanced nervously at me, gouging my reaction. I kept a straight face mostly, aside from the obvious murderous look in my eye. 

“The only person I don’t really think gets me on this run is Dixon, honestly, that redneck kind of freaks me out-” he was cut off with a surprised yelp when I pulled the bag off of his shoulder and pushed him with a hand to his chest back against the brick wall of a building, my gun being pulled from it’s holster to be shoved in his face. It was already cocked back, so all I had to do was pull the trigger and he’d be dead. “Woah, lady!” He put his hands up in surrender, “what did I do?”

“I’ve been getting a lot of complaints about you, Joshua,” I sneered, “you make a lot of people uncomfortable and angry. I’m just now realizing what they meant.” He tried to move out of the way but I shoved him back again, this time he stayed. I heard the others round the corner of the building, Michonne gasped quietly at the sight and Bob stood frozen. 

I saw Daryl from the corner of my eyes standing with his arms crossed, waiting for what I chose to do. I had half a mind to just kill the kid, just kill him and get it over with. But wouldn’t that make me like my brother? My mind was at war with itself. 

“(Y/N), lady, just let me go, we can go back to the prison and we’ll just forget this ever happened.” He said in a shaky voice, his gross blue eyes roving over my face to see what my next move would be. “We’ll go back to our regular lives. You don’t have to do this.”

My eyes locked with his, he just didn’t get it. “How old are you, Joshua?” He looked around at the various members of the group just watching me stick a gun in his face. 

“I-” he cut himself off with a gulp of air, “I’m thirty seven.”

I let out a laugh, “you like younger girls, don’t you, Joshua? From infants to teens?” His eyes widened. 

“No, no, I swear,” his voice panicked. “We can talk about this, I won’t tell the council anything about this, I swear. Please, please don’t kill me.”

“My issue isn’t that you could tell the council something, Joshy,” I tilted my head, “you’re dangerous. To all the children at the prison.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” he repeated, “I swear, I’ll change. I won’t go near any of them, I won’t. Just please don’t shoot me.” His hands waving around in the air from where they were beside his head, shaking. 

I’d been in law enforcement before the fall of the world. All pedophiles said that they would change. They never did. There had once been a case I worked on where a pedophile was let out of jail from when he’d exposed himself to a minor, and after a month out of jail, he molested and killed two little girls. 

“I don’t believe you,” and then I pulled the trigger. 

The ride back to the prison had been silent, so silent. I immediately went into my cell, just wanting to hide away from everyone. Because I knew that the rumors would start, just like they always did when word got out about any one of my actions. 

I was alone for maybe ten minutes before I heard a few knocks on the wall of my cell, the sheets hanging up were pulled aside. I looked up in the darkness of my cell and found Daryl standing there. “You okay?” I asked, finding it unusual that he’d pay me a visit when he had more important things to be doing. 

“Yeah, not sick,” he muttered before he sat down against the wall across from my bed. I turned on my side to face him, readjusting my pillow to get more comfortable. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” I told him with a small smile, he smiled back at me when he saw it, just a twitch of his lips, but for him, that was a smile. That’s what spending a few months in the freezing cold with him taught me. 

He huffed, “we told the council that Josh was caught in a group of walkers, we didn’t say anything.” I nodded in understanding and thanks, he seemed to get it. I wondered again why he was in my cell. As if reading my mind, he said, “I wanted to see if you were okay. I know that….even with who he was and the things he did, the kind of person he was, that can’t have been easy for you.” It wasn’t. Killing someone isn’t easy. “Killing a person isn’t supposed to be easy, your brother lost sight of that, (Y/N). You’re not him. Far from it.”

“I never said that it wasn’t easy,” I reminded him. 

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbled, looking down, his hair hiding his face more than the darkness of my room did. “He was a disgusting human being and all of us are glad he’s on. Beth asked me to thank you. She seemed to know what really happened when we came back without him.”

“Smart girl,” I whispered. 

“How ya feeling? Ya sick?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Just tired, is all.”

Daryl stood up and took one of the many pillows I hoarded on my mattress from me and set it down on the ground of my cell, he turned onto his back and laid down, putting one of his hands behind his head and his opposite arm over his eyes. 

I tilted my head at him with a small smirk, “I don’t think Hershel would approve of you sleeping in here with me when there’s a virus spreading around.”

“You ain’t sick, and neither am I,” he grumbled, “leave me alone, woman.” His voice was already rough with sleep. 

I huffed a small laugh and pulled a blanket from the stack I kept all to myself and threw it over his form, he groaned at the disruption but pulled the blanket up to his shoulders after a moment. “Goodnight Dixon.”

“Shut up,” he rumbled. His breath evening out a moment later, I watched his sleeping form for a moment longer before I settled into my own pillows and blankets. Honestly, he was sleeping on the floor instead of the perfectly good top bunk. And when we first arrived and from then on, he basically refused to sleep in any of the cells. 

I couldn’t help my smile, perhaps mine and my brother’s insanity hadn’t left me entirely alone after all. It just took me a while to realize it.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @wrenstrange! Put up the decorations, it’s finally time again! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1957 Warnings: pure fluff, blood sample/needle/syringe, soft!Loki, fatique, fainting

You dropped like a piece of wood right about when you were making yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Knees ceasing to support you any longer, vision darkening, stars dancing around you making you dizzy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and before you knew it, your body finally won and shut down.

Although if you could have chosen, you would not have fallen straight into Loki’s arms whose reflexes caught you, preventing you from hitting the hard floor beneath you. He cradled you with his brows furrowed, his blue gaze almost helpless as he looked at Thor and Stark for support.

Then, everything went black.

-

“Welcome back.” You blinked, the artificial lights above your head blinding you. A hand held you down when you attempted to sit up drowsily. Bruce was leaning against a metal table in Tony’s lab, hands crossed before his chest and with a concerned expression on his face. “You blacked out,” he explained, “out of the blue.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony added.

You only realised then that it was Loki who had held you down. He was sitting on a chair right next to the makeshift bed they had carried into Tony’s lab and he was observing you with Argus eyes. Your heart sped up when you noticed. You usually tended to avoid the God of Mischief at all cost. There was a part of you that was afraid of him after watching him making an entire crowd kneel in Stuttgart, the other was hands down swooning over him. It had all started when he had rescued a cat from a tree, honouring a cliché he had not even been aware of. But someone who helped defenceless little kittens had to have a soft heart deep down, no?

Thor had brought him to Earth along with him after Asgard had been destroyed. He could not exactly be considered an Avenger but he had long surpassed the villain image… at least, to some extent. Well, you were no Avenger either. You used to be a SHIELD intern and then somehow ended up with the superheroes themselves. Apart from some basic fighting skills and the ability to use a gun, you had been trained to spend most of your time in front of a computer, often working twelve hours or even more a day. What did they say? Evil never sleeps.

“Any idea what might have caused this?” Bruce continued.

You shook your head. “No. But I’ve been having migraines and a persistent fatigue that just won’t go away.”

“I see… anything else?”

“Um…”

“You can talk to us, (Y/N).”

“Well, I… I’ve been dizzy a lot lately but that sometimes happens during my special week of the month so I didn’t think anything of it.” You took a deep breath but hesitated.

“And?”

“I’ve been sweating way more when working out. Like, a lot more. Instead of making progress… I feel like I’m getting weaker every day. It’s frustrating.”

“Uh-huh. I’m taking a blood sample. FRIDAY will run a couple of tests on you to figure out what’s wrong.”

“What? No! Nothing’s wrong! We don’t need a b-blood sample.”

“No one faints for no reason, (Y/N), especially not on Loki.” Loki rolled his eyes but did not leave your side, even when Bruce started fiddling around with some gear and apparently, a first-aid kit and then approached you with a syringe and a small clear vial.

“I’ve done this a million times before, I’ll be gentle.”

“No! No, no blood test, Bruce, please!” Almost hysterically, you moved back on the bed, your heart in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” Loki suddenly said calmly. You shivered when he spoke your name, his head tilted slightly. “Are you afraid of needles?”

“N-n-no…” You lied. Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Look at me.” He said. Hesitating only a little, you did as you were told. It wasn’t like his tone allowed any contradiction anyway. In fact, it reminded you a lot of his strict and bossy tone when he had caused chaos in Germany. “It has to be done. Hold my hand and do not take your eyes off of me.”

“Who are you and what you have done to Reindeer Games?” Tony tossed in, throwing the Trickster a suspicious glance. Loki rolled his eyes once more. As if he had any obligation to explain himself to Stark of all people.

In the meantime, you were panicking even more. Loki was being nice and considerate with you and Bruce was about to pierce your skin with a needle. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… your breathing sped up.

“Look. At. Me.” Loki repeated. You obeyed this time, allowing him to take your hand and press it gently. Much to your surprise, it immediately calmed you down a little. You gaped at him unbelievingly. You didn’t even feel the needle going into your skin and drawing blood. Wait… was he casting a spell on you?

“There. All done.” You could not bring yourself to look where Bruce brought your blood sample but when both Tony and he stepped away and turned their backs on you, you swallowed.

“T-thank you…” You had to ask—not because you did not think he was not capable of offering his help without seeking a personal advantage and not because you didn’t think he was too evil to even think about being selfless… but because you were genuinely curious about his motivation. Loki did nothing without a reason, he was always one step ahead. “You put a spell on me, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Why… why did you do that for me?”

“We are all afraid of something.” It was the only response he gave you. For a few moments, you merely sat there quietly, neither of you uttering a single word. Only when Bruce and Tony returned did you realise that Loki was still holding your hand.

“Okay… I’ve got the results from your blood test and FRIDAY couldn’t find anything suspicious.” Tony announced, scrolling on his tablet. Bruce adjusted his glasses to take a peek.

“You said you’ve been feeling tired? You sweat a lot, you get dizzy, and I’m presuming you barely have an appetite?”

“I don’t have time to eat a lot to be honest…” You confirmed.

“Any concentration problems?��

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you thought about it for a moment. Now that he mentioned it… it had gotten obnoxiously hard to focus on your work lately. Eventually, you nodded.

“Sounds like severe exhaustion to me.” Bruce said. “Do you have issues with low blood pressure or diabetes or any other medical condition? No, FRIDAY would have found something like that. You know what I think? You overworked yourself.”

“Like… a burnout?” You probed.

“Most definitely.”

You grunted. Oh, that was just great. There you were, attempting to squeeze in regular workouts in this awesome training hall the Avengers called the HARM room after work to get stronger and hence, eventually gather up the courage to speak to Loki and now you looked exactly like what you did not want him to see you as—a weak and meagre human.

“The best medicine would be for you to quit work for a while and stop physical exercise altogether.”

“Banner is right,” Tony added. “Take a few weeks off and rest, sleep in, eat more and healthy… the whole program. I officially give you a holiday.”

“You’re not my boss, Tony, you can’t give me a holiday.” Your smile was weak. “But I don’t have time for this anyway! I can’t believe this is happening so soon before Christmas!” You whined. “I can’t stay in bed, I’ve got so much to do! I have to buy presents and decorate and bake biscuits and make gingerbread… Besides, I’m gonna fall behind on all the data.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take care of that. Let me talk to Fury. You let us know if you need anything. Can you take her to her room, Reindeer Games? And please, no funny business.” Beside you, Loki was just frowning, utterly ignoring the billionaire’s request.

“Why were you pushing yourself so hard?” He finally spoke when the two Avengers had left—whether it was genuine confusion or mere curiosity in his voice, you were not sure. “Why were you training for battle in the first place? I have never seen you out on a mission.”

You sighed. Time to let the cat out of the bag, it wasn’t like you were still going to make a good impression on him anymore now.

“I wanted to impress you, I guess…”

“Impress me?” Loki repeated incredulously.

“Yeah… catch your attention… in a way. I mean, part of me is still terrified of you, of course but… you have a good heart, Loki. I knew when I saw you rescuing that cat from the tree.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to damage my reputation.” He responded with a sly smirk, making you grin. “It was an innocent kitten, what was I supposed to do?”

“See?”

Your heart skipped a beat when his blue eyes locked with yours. He appeared… uncertain; not used to dealing with affection. Loki swallowed.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure…”

The God of Mischief sighed, his lips pressed together to a thin line. Without any hesitation, he snuck one of his arms under your knees and wrapped the other around your waist. He lifted you off the makeshift bed as if you weighed nothing—and to him, you probably didn’t.

Loki carried you to your room in utter silence and eventually lay you down in your bed. Your heart jumped when he sat down on the edge of the bed himself, with a peculiar interest in his hands so he would not have to look you in the eye.

“There is no need to impress me.” He suddenly said. Your head shot up. “I did not think anyone would even… never mind.”

Oh. It almost felt like you were finally getting to know each other, for real this time.

“Do you want to stay for a while? I was going to watch some Christmas movies if I’m not allowed to get out of bed.” You sighed. “I can’t even decorate. You have no idea how many decorations I have to put up. None of the others care to make it a little more festive here, especially not Fury.”

“Yes, I have seen the boxes.” Loki replied. “It’s a little… corny, wouldn’t you say?”

“Honestly, when living among superheroes who risk their lives every single day, you could use a little corny.”

“I see.” Loki simply waved his hand and before you knew it, your entire room was decorated. Green and red tinsel shimmered on your window sill, holiday lights were blinking above your door and fake—but incredibly real-looking—snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Many of your favourite decoration items were now sitting on your nightstand and your desk, including your tiny little Christmas tree. The rest of the decorations, so it seemed, Loki must have spread all over the Tower.

“Oh my Goodness… Loki, this is amazing!” The God of Mischief winked and when you looked down on yourself, you noticed you too were wearing a green and gold Christmas sweater. Heavens, you could kiss him. “Thank you so much! What did you… is the entire Tower…”

“Yes.” He confirmed. He didn’t have to. Tony did only a fraction of a second later.

“Thor! Can you tell me why my Ironman helmet just grew metal antlers? I swear to God, if Reindeer Games has something to do with this…” It was then you exploded with laughter despite your exhaustion.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[h3l10tr0p3]

MANGA CH. 284 SPOILERS

OF REDEMPTIONS AND ATONEMENTS:

We all been knew, man. We all knew this was coming.

And godDAMN does it fucking HURT. (oh the sweet sweet angstfest this whole chapter is, just *chef's kiss*)

But i legit cannot put into words how deep the choice to 'Atone' cuts on my bleeding bkdk heart. Let's first take a step back and see how Katsuki went from DvK2 to here- that one keystone moment that has given us this beautiful chapter: And I meant ALLLL the way back to Chap. 252

I have already written a whole-ass post based on this panel, which you can check Here.

TL;DR Katsuki was actually paying real close attention to Endeavour in this part. He came to Endeavour to learn exactly what he was missing as a Hero, but he learnt so much more.

This scene in particular left a momentous impact on Kacchan. Here, Natsuo is resistant to the idea of forgiving his father for all his sins just because he is more involved in their lives now. And Endeavour had been dreaming for a while about a Home where he is not present with the rest of the Todoroki's which ultimately gave him the idea of buying a house for the others to live in apart from him. This is HUGE. This is what actually drove Endeavour's Redemption home- the perfect understanding and the perfect compensation, the two elements of a brilliant Redemption Arc. NOT THE FORGIVENESS, just as Enji says it. It is NEVER ABOUT THE FORGIVENESS.

Endeavour understood that it was his presence that caused his family distress, and although he dearly wanted to be a part of his family again, was even making efforts towards it by being cordial and accepting of Shouto's friends, inviting them to a family dinner, etc. etc. Endeavour realized the only way he can compensate/atone was to give up something that would cause him suffering, and them happiness. The idea that your family doesnt want you, when you just started to show some effort and HOPE that they might see you in different light, maybe forgive you and then to just terminate those ties entirely, punting yourself into a void where NO ONE CAN COME IN AND SAVE YOU FROM YOUR SUFFERING, is exactly what Endeavour did. He is actively shutting down the ONE window through which his family could see that he was suffering, and miserable, and wanted to be a part of the family again. Endeavour CHOSE to not be forgiven. To writhe with the knowledge of his sins day in and day out with only the shrine of Dabi Touya to haunt him every waking minute.

I cannot explain just how much determination it takes to do that, man. It's just- WOW.

Excuse me for ranting on Endeavour in a bkdk post, but I swear this has a point. And All Might says this the best:

This is the fanlation, the official release (which I couldnt get my hands on) also mentions that "When I meant you were like Endeavour, I meant the Change"

This here is an important bit that AM has caught onto.

In the 252 panel, where Endeavour says 'It's not like I want forgiveness' (Because Endeavour understands he cannot be, should not be, forgiven) "I just want to make up for everything I have done" (and to back this up, Endeavour shuts down the one communication link that could have offered him forgiveness, and thus salvation from the weight of his sins and his guilt)

Katsuki understood Endeavour's idea of redemption very well here, although he might not be shown with that light-bulb moment. He may have already known this wayyy before Endeavour said anything, but those words lent a solidity and to the path he must persue to acheive redemption: And it's Not forgiveness.

Let me tell you why I think Atonement is the greater factor here, even greater than Redemption itself. Redemption has an end-point: Forgiveness. But Atonement doesn't. Atonement has no expiry date. Atonement is purely propelled by the understanding of self, and the weight of guilt the self bears, whereas a Redemption is All About The Forgiveness.

Forgiveness is an external force, it may or may not be given to you and that is completely up to the person who has been wronged. Atonement is self-imposed, it is a meditation of the soul to forgive itself against the guilt it carries.

If Redemption is a marathon with a banner at the finish line, Atonement is trying to drag a twenty pounds of rocks through the Sahara desert without water, food or a compass- it's endless, hopeless.

And this is why Atonement is greater than Redemption.

And do you think someone as stubborn as Kastuki will ever find himself atoned of his deeds? No. And That, my friends, is The Point. In 252, when Endeavour says, "I dont want forgiveness" it's not just him saying it- it's also Katsuki. "I just want to make it upto you", is also Katsuki.

And to prove it, Katsuki will never ask for forgiveness. A verbal apology will be nice, sure. Especially since dumb-ass, gay-ass, 'Kacchan-sugoi' ass Izuku Doesn't even See it as Atonement. He is just #Blessed that Kacchan and he can talk almost-naturally again. And that is also Katsuki's intention- because the moment Izuku knows, he won't be able to atone this way anymore.

So, as much as I HATE to say this, the chances of a voluntary verbal apology are slim. If allowed to go on like this, Kacchan with continue to shadow Izuku through his life, worrying about him, LOSING SLEEP OVER HIM :

LOOK AT THOSE BAGS UNDER HIS EYES. /*shoves panels in yo face*/LOOK

Can you believe this bitch-ass gremlin who goes to sleep at 8:30 got bags just from stressing over his Deku??????

LOOK AT HIM DOING A HECCIN' MAJOR KOKORO-STOPPING CONCERN.

(He is flipping his shit because he worries, and he worries so much, and has worried for him for a long LONG time.)

- Katsuki will continue on this path of being Izuku's support.

Forever if it takes.

Forever, he hopes, it takes-

Because the only way he will stop is in death, either his own or Deku's.

This is his Atonement: To undo everything he once did, to support Izuku's dream instead of squashing it; To help him get stronger instead of perpetuating the narrative on his weakness; To protect him from all harm, when he once hurt; To be on his side when the whole world is against him, because once he was all, but, for him; To save Izuku as he wins, to win as he saves.

And, To deny each oppurtunity of forgiveness even as he desperately longs to be unburdened of his guilt.

Because Katsuki knows:

He knows Izuku is that one of a million, he is kind and humble and considerate and loving to a fault.

Katsuki knows that Izuku will forgive him in a heartbeat. That is just the kind of selfless, beautiful person he is.

Unlike Endeavour, who had no guarantee to forgiveness, Katsuki does. And that is what makes Katsuki's Atonement more powerful than Endeavour's. He recognizes it is in his grasp, just an arm's length away...

....Just an arm's length.

And Katsuki will deny himself that. Because he does not believe he deserves it. He hasn't atoned enough for it.

"Keep At Arm's Length"

He says. Because this is the critical distance between them. Not "Stay an arm's length away", because Katsuki doesn't wanna run away from Deku, and he doesn't want to be too far away to protect him, nor does he want to get too close to finally recieve the forgiveness that will give him salvation.

This is the fine balancing act Katsuki must maintain indefintely till he believes he has acheived his idea of atonement. (And when has he ever been happy just the bare minimum?)

I know I said Katsuki will never ask for forgiveness, and a voluntary verbal apology is very unlikely, because in it's very nature, it is inviting a forgiveness from Izuku, which we have established, Katsuki wants to avoid. And if this were any other manga, we would have been doomed to this conclusion. But, there is a scenario when Katsuki might issue a verbal apology and that is when Katsuki knows there isn't enough time to be forgiven in turn, or, hasn't atoned enough and can no longer continue to.

Like when Katsuki launches off, to deliver a final kamikaze blow to a villain, and he has only enough time to tell Deku a short "I am sorry", but not enough time to wait for a reply. Or when Deku is dying and at his final moments, when Katsuki knows however much he has atoned isn't enough and isn't how Deku should leave, without closure.

Whatever the future may hold, my dear readers, Katsuki still has a long, long way to go. And I hope to see him live through everything, to be there -

To survive these wars with Deku, To fight alongside him, To protect him. To win. To save.

To Live.

To hear Deku say "I had forgiven you a long time ago";

and ofcourse,

To forgive himself.

[fonulyn]

So I'm reading this sad Chreon story - as one does (it's me, I'm one) - and I just had the weirdest epiphany? Like, I dunno, it's probably dumb and far from a hot take or some eye opening character analysis no one has done before but I noticed that people (including myself, so like not saying this in any kind of bad way) tend to write Leon as stand offish, apathetic, and cold. Like this story stated it specifically, said something along the lines of "this is what Leon gets for cultivating a reputation for being unapproachable, apathetic, and indifferent" and the insinuation there is that he's done this on purpose, put on this front to seem unaffected by things when in the presence of others, and I think it's pretty true for his character. Like anything post RE2, Leon is kind of. I dunno, I wanna say deadpan? He seems to express v little emotion, and when he does it's usually in the form of a quip, one-liner, or snarky come back. Sometimes awkward small talk lol. But it feels like he's built this wall, this persona around himself, not just to protect himself from losing more people (bc he probably sees it as some kind of inevitability, and with his track record I certainly wouldn't blame him), but to protect people from him. This poor man has spent so long fighting, trying to save people, and even tho he saves the day in the end, so many people get lost in the process, and Leon feels every single loss personally. Right off the bat we see it every time someone dies in RE2, then again in RE4 with Luis, who he knew for a short period of time and yet mourned so heavily for, and even Krauser to an extent. Leon is someone who is quick to trust, even as he gets older, and we see that in RE Vendetta, too. Like that's probably one of the big reasons he's so devastated after losing his team. Not only was he entrusted with a group (which doesn't happen often, as far as we have seen), but he probably put his trust in them as well, including Petrucio, the man who betrayed them. I just think Leon is such a complex character who hides so much of himself (which is convenient for bad writers at Capcom who can't write good dialogue to save their lives lmao, but I also think it's a decent part of his character now), probably so what happened in RE2 doesn't happen again. Bc that shit was probably so traumatizing, and Leon was still a baby! I'm only a year older then he was at the time of RE2 but like, as humans our brains don't finish growing until age 25, so that kind of trauma at that age is for sure gonna stick with you, and it seems he picked up some unhealthy coping mechanisms from it that's more than just his drinking problem. Anyways I guess I just wanted to rant about how Leon is the most "emotionless" character in RE but in reality he feels and cares so much, so much so that if he doesn't put up that mask of indifference then he'll destroy himself. This man would die so that others could live, he's saved the world multiple times without a care for himself past the need to finish his mission and keep as many people as possible safe. He's such a tragic character and I love him so goddamn much, like he's one of those characters who you aspire to be like, in a way. Selfless, capable, dependable, reliable, smart, passionate, caring. And some of this might be my own character building I've done based off of other headcanons and character analysis posts and stories I've seen, but I do think we see a lot of this in the canon content, too. I just really love Leon S Kennedy, okay? He makes me sad but also so so happy and I love him v much, he is a big time comfort character for me. Sorry for the rant, just needed to scream about this with someone who would understand lol 😅

oh anon, I get you, I dooo. I think that you're right in that Leon has kind of this shell around himself because it's the only way he can cope. but there are so many cracks in his shell, and he lets people in so readily even when it would stand to reason that he shouldn't trust anyone anymore. he gets attached to people lightning fast, and he'd die for them even when he's barely met them.

this borders on headcanon territory, definitely, but I tend to often write him as someone who gets attached easily and falls for people easily (be it friendship or romantic or anything), but then he doesn't know how to properly let people in because he's got his defense mechanisms, he's trying to keep himself from breaking, and what if he truly lets someone past those walls and then another disaster strikes and he never recovers from it?

and I think it shows a lot in how he's so awkward with small talk, he can throw in one-liners and dad jokes and try to keep his own (and anyone else's) spirits up with that. but oh man. beyond that? the boy doesn't know how to naturally talk to people. (even like in Infinite Darkness, with Claire, I think his "don't do anything stupid" was 100% meant to be a joke, both times, but it just didn't exactly land perfectly. poor awkward bby)

but like even though he might put up this unaffected front, he's still so very expressive? like... if you really pay attention to him? he's far from actually an expressionless and cold person. he just isn't very loud about it. (i was just going through ID screencaps yesterday and while Shen May is talking and Leon is on the background, he goes through such a journey in expressions alone :'D)

AND HE CARES. like, for example in Infinite Darkness, he sees Patrick is shaken and the first possible moment he has, he immediately asks him if he's okay and takes a moment to reassure him. they're in a hurry, he's supposed to get going and not check up on a guy he's never even met before, but he does it anyway. and I think it speaks a lot of his character. he's quick to offer support and comfort, and he genuinely tries to be there for others the best he can. he desperately needs someone to listen to him in turn, seriously. give him emotional support, damnit.

and I wanna highlight what you said:

in reality he feels and cares so much, so much so that if he doesn't put up that mask of indifference then he'll destroy himself. This man would die so that others could live, he's saved the world multiple times without a care for himself past the need to finish his mission and keep as many people as possible safe.

because yes. 100%. also this:

he's one of those characters who you aspire to be like, in a way.

like. yes. there was this one meme thing going around which was basically like asking if you feel like you're like your favorite character and I'm just. I fucking wish I was one tenth of what he is :'D

I know not even he is perfect, c'mon, no such thing as perfect people exist (not even in fiction, or if they do then they'd be really damn boring :'D). i'm not trying to claim he has no flaws, or that he never does anything wrong. he has and he does. but the amount of genuine caring he shows and how hard he tries to do the right thing? truly awe inspiring.

i just. I'm right there with you. I love him so damn much. and that's why I spend most of my time writing fic where he gets at least some of that happiness he deserves :'D i need him taken care of, damnit, and if canon doesn't give him good things then i damn sure will.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 4

Genre: Smut, angst, and some fluff this time

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary:  It has come to this. After your landlord kicks you out, you’re at Chan’s mercy. Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought he was.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, thigh riding, really unheathly dynamics

A/N: this part is like the opposite of a tootsie roll soft on the outside hard on the inside

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

“This is just for a short while.” You say, swallowing the bile that has risen up in your throat as you look at the smug wolf sitting in front of you on his couch.

“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalant, but the cocky arch of his brow says otherwise and you have to squash down your pride with everything you’ve got not to jump on him. Like it or not, you’re at his mercy now that your landlord has officially evicted you. Without his gracious help, you’d now be on the streets. “I’ll find another place as soon as I can.”

“You can take all the time you need.” He opens his arms wide, going for a welcoming vibe but the stupid grin on his face counteracts it.

“No. I’ll be out of here soon.” You deadpan, not wanting to owe him more than you already do. God knows he’ll hold his over your head forever.  "And I don't feel comfortable living here for free so from now on until I leave, I'll be taking care of things around the house."

“Oh, how domestic.” He chirps sweetly.

"More like a live-in maid." You mutter under your breath but he easily hears it, the stupid grin finally dropping from his face as he sits forward and looks at you sincerely. "Don't say that. I meant what I said. You’re here as a friend."

"Yeah, sure." You snort. “You’re basically high from gloating.”

A smile tickles his lips again as he leans back. “I always enjoy the chance to one-up you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Wow, you really are a saint.” You jeer, grabbing your bag and heading towards the room that is to be yours.  

_________________

To your great surprise, living with Chan was actually kind of nice. Aside from the obvious perk of living in such a comfortable, beautiful house that had everything you could ever need. Chan himself was proving himself to be a quiet congenial roommate. Most importantly, he left you the hell alone for the most part, staying cooped up in his studio the majority of the day so that you barely even saw him. And despite your agreement that you’d take care of things around the house, he still did most of his things himself, picking up after himself and washing his clothes before you got the chance to. He fed himself too as indicated by the boxes of takeout from every possible fast food place filling out the trash. So you were barely wasting any time on taking care of the house, and spending most of your days following up on your studies like you so sorely needed. 

All in all, this whole arrangement was working out positively in your favor. Too positively, that you have to wonder what he was getting out of this. He can’t possibly really be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, especially since no one is even aware of this kind deed for him to gain any morality points off of it. He hasn’t even made a move on you for the whole three weeks you’d been here, seeming content to just coexist with you that you were starting to feel like you were taking advantage of him somehow. Even though this whole thing was his idea. 

Maybe that, your momentary self-doubt, is what prompted you to do what you did next. 

“Hmm, something smells nice.” Chan remarks, walking into the kitchen where you were making yourself some food. He stands behind you to take a look at what you were cooking, and you feel your heart skipping a beat at the now familiar scent of him filling your nostrils and his body being so close to you. And when he speaks, his voice deep and calm next to your ear, it makes your skin tingle. “Looks tasty too.” 

And like a teenager who had the great fortune of being noticed by the popular jock, you twist your head around to look at him, dewy-eyed as the words stumble out of your mouth before you can think them over. “Would you like to have dinner with me today?”

He pauses, looking at you curiously and you turn back to the food and continue nervously, “I mean, that junk food you eat everyday can’t be good for you.” 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” He asks cheekily, and your shoulders tense. “Never mind.” 

“No, no, I’ll have dinner with you.” He rushes to say, plopping down on a seat resolutely. “No take backsies.”

“Idiot.” You mutter, finding yourself wearing an involuntary smile because of him once again.

__________________________________ 

You’re not the best cook, you’ll be the first to admit it, but Chan praises your food like you are a world class chef. 

“Fuck off, Chan. It’s not that good.” You protest awkwardly, not really used to being complimented. But he insists, mouth full of food, “It is! It’s sublime.” 

You look down at your food to avoid eye contact with him and put on your best snooty voice. “Poor thing. Your habit of eating exclusively junk food must’ve ruined your palate to the point where you think my cooking is anything but decent.” 

“You sell yourself short. These hands--” He suddenly grabs your hands suddenly, startling you as he kisses them. “They’re magic.” 

You yank them back to your lap, flustered, the adrenaline pushing your poor fluttering heart into overdrive and making you panic. You quickly grab your fork and shove some food into your mouth trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions clashing in your chest, and regretting it almost immediately as your nausea swells up. 

“Is that how you woo prey?” You snark, taking a big gulp of your wine to wash down the piece of food you barely chewed. “Blatantly lie to them about their cooking skills?” 

The atmosphere fully changes as Chan drops his cheery attitude.  “Can we not talk about… that? It’s just you and me here. We don’t have to let the outside world in, do we?”

You still, your sense of danger rising up exponentially at his suggestion, and once again you find yourself wondering why he was doing this. What was his endgame here? Was he just messing with you? He puts on an honorable performance but you’ve seen him slip before. It must get tiring for him. Maybe he wants to see you hurt; it’s in his nature and he’s been repressing it for so long. You’d be the perfect victim too. No one even knows you’re here, and even if they did, they’d never believe your word over his. 

Or he could be genuine. Maybe he’s as nice as he tries to be. But that just scares you more, because how do you deal with that? You’ve never had a relationship with someone that was open and trusting. You’ve always hid behind your games. They kept you safe. No one has ever truly hurt you because you’ve never allowed someone to get close enough. But if you trust Chan, if you let him in and he betrays you… you don’t know how you’d even recover from that. 

You want to believe though. Everyone always says how much of a good person he is, how loyal, how selfless, how supportive. They can’t all be blind, right? And you’ve seen it too, in the way he always strived to protect his friends from you. He wanted the best for them. Maybe he could want the best for you too.

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice, heart pounding. 

His answering smile is bright and big, but it does nothing to assuage your fears so you settle for taking another sip of your wine. That’s what it’s made for, right?

“So, what do you actually do? I never asked.” Chan makes conversation as he gets back to his food.

You clear your throat. “I’m a waitress.” 

“Oh, and… um, is that what you want to be doing?” He asks unsurely. 

You roll your eyes at him, feeling a little at ease at his naivety. “No. Nobody wants to work in the service industry. It’s basically slavery and all your costumers are either rude or crazy. I hate it.” 

He pauses, looking like he’s thinking very hard for a moment, before he asks, perplexed. “So why do you do it?”

“To eat?” 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His ears turn red and it’s his turn to take a big gulp of his drink. “I’m, uh, apparently an idiot. Yes, people work to afford living. Of course.” 

“I guess you’ve never had to think about that.” You note, surprised that you don’t feel any bitterness as you say it. 

“No.” He stares at the food on his plate. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah but--”

“But I don’t have money so you feel sorry having money in front of me?” You grin, tone light, and he smiles back, face flushed as he obviously chastises himself in his head. 

“So…” He starts again, and it’s a little endearing how nervous he is. “What do you really wanna do?” 

You regard him for a second, wondering if you should really cross that line and let him in. Well, here goes nothing. 

“I’m studying to be a doctor.” 

His jaw drops to the floor. “You?”

“Yeah, shocking right?” You quip, taking another sip from your glass.

“I mean, yeah.” You would take offense at his words if it weren’t for the--you begrudgingly admit--endearing confused frown on his face. “Isn’t that a traditionally prey profession? Don’t you get, like, weird looks or something?”

“Yeah.” You snort, feeling the bitterness rise to the surface. “I get more than just weird looks. People feel the need to tell me every moment of every day how I’ll never be a good doctor. How no one will trust a fox with their life. How I should just quit and get into business or law or whatever other profession that can use my no-doubt nefarious skills.”

“That sucks.” He says then immediately cringes at his lame comment.

“Yeah, no shit. And guess who says it the most? Prey hybrids.” 

A light bulb suddenly clicks above his head. “Is that why you dislike them? They’re really not all like that--”

You interrupt him sharply, already knowing where he was going with this. “They’re not like that to you because you’re powerful and rich and you could do whatever you want, but they’re ruthless to me. They’ve always been. So yeah excuse me if I don’t care too much for your prey apologism. It’s pretty infuriating actually.”

“I really think you should--”

“What about you?” You ask pointedly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “I mean, I know that you’re a producer. I suppose this is what you’ve always wanted to be doing.” 

“Ah, yes.” He coughs, straightening in his seat as he reels back from the change of topic. “I’ve loved it since I was an angsty teen listening to hip hop and pretending like I’m so cool and gangsta.” 

The thought of little rich boy Chan swearing it up and down and acting like a thug brings an involuntary and sincere laugh out of you. It doesn’t bother Chan though. If anything, he looks content to have made you laugh. 

“Did you…” He begins after your laughter dies down, fiddling with the stem of his glass as he looks at you from under his lashes, “Have you ever listened to any of my tracks?”

“No.” You scoff, the word coming out automatically. I mean, why would you? It’s not like you like the guy. 

His face falls at your flippant answer. “Ah. Of course.” He says flatly, bringing his glass to his mouth. 

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Logically, you know you have no reason to feel bad. You two were never on the best of terms and you have no obligation to listen to his songs. And yet, as you look at his crestfallen face, the guilt still eats at you. 

“How about you show me some after dinner?” You find yourself suggesting and his face immediately brightens up. “Yeah! I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He interjects quickly, even though he clearly wants you to. 

“I want to.” You say firmly, and he smiles. ___________________________________

“I’m a nice guy who just has a lot of money?” You wheeze, cracking up and face flushed from the intoxication. You were somehow on Chan’s lap as the night progressed from him showing you his proudest works to his most regrettable ones.

“I know. I know. What was I thinking, right?” He laughs along with you despite his obvious embarrassment. 

You lean in close to his face, humming, "I think it's endearing." You kiss him. 

"You just like embarrassing me." He protests weakly, mouth opening against your lips. 

“Guilty.” You pull away to take his shirt off. Caressing his exposed muscles, you grin, “Hmm...yummy.” 

He bursts out laughing, “You like it?”

You shrug, “It’s not what I usually go for but I can get used to it.” 

He scoffs at that, and pulls your own shirt over your head. Tugging your bra over your breasts, he cups them in his hands and murmurs against your skin, “Well, I don’t need to get used to these.” before his mouth latches onto them. He sucks marks onto the sensitive flesh while his hands grope and knead your breasts. 

Looking up at you, he pushes your breasts together and laps his tongue over the nipples. Your arousal spikes as your gaze locks with his challenging one, and you start rocking yourself over his thigh. 

"Fuck that's hot." He mumbles, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he pulls away, making you moan out and your hips swivel down to push your core harder against his thigh. 

"Wait, wait," He pulls you to your feet, and you whine, protesting the loss. 

“Hush, baby girl.” He soothes, yanking your pants down your legs along with your underwear before he slips his hand between your legs to drag a finger up your slit, hissing when he feels your wetness. "That's what I want." He groans, pulling you back down on his thigh and using his grip on your hips to make you move over his thigh again. "Want you to ruin my pants with your cum, baby girl. Show me how much you need me."

"But I don't need you." You retort, though your hips don’t slow down. 

“Are you sure about that, my little fox?” He flexes his thigh under you, pushing it up more against your core. 

“Uh-huh.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to get back to sucking on your breasts, which only makes your movements more frantic. 

“Come on, baby, tell me how good I am and I’ll help you.” He gasps between kisses. You tug on his hair, almost bouncing on his thigh now. “Why don’t you beg for it, pup?”

“Unbelievable.” He growls, pulling your head down. “You’re still so prideful even as you hump my leg like bitch.” 

Whatever stinging remark you would’ve hurled at him is muffled against his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, taking him in and caressing it with your own before you put your hands to his chest and push him back. 

“You really want it? Want me to say how good you are for me? How wet you make me?"

He nods eagerly. 

“What a sweet pup.” You praise, “Striving so hard to please me. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ll make me cum real soon.” 

“Do it, please. I wanna see what you look like cumming up close.” 

“Keep tensing your leg like that and you’ll have me cumming in no time, puppy.” You bite your lip, small but needy moans flowing out of you. “What a good boy you are, so good.” 

“Please,” He whispers, his hands helping you move faster on his thigh. “Please, please.”

“So close---ah---oh god, so close...baby!” You gasp, grabbing onto him tightly as you finally cum, the orgasm surprisingly potent. He beams up at you, soaking up every little moan and shudder you let out. “So pretty.”

Gradually, your panting breaths turn into airy giggles as you get down from your high. You give his lips a peck before your hands fall between you and starts pulling his dick out from his sweatpants. You grin against his lips, feeling giddy. "I can’t believe I’m gonna let you fuck me in your studio. How cliche.”

His answering chuckles are punctuated with little moans as you glide your hand up and down his hard dick. “If it--ahh-- makes you feel any better, t-this is the--ahh, yeah like that, baby-- the first time I fuck anyone here.” 

You giggles increase in pitch, “You’re so full of shit, Chan.”

“I’m serious.” He whines, leaning up into your touch as you swipe your palm over the leaking head of his cock. “This is kind of a... sacred place for me."

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, “It can’t be that special if you’re here with me now.”

“It is.” He insists with a pout, and continues casually as if it was nothing, “Because you’re special.” 

Your hand stills on his cock, your face turning to stone as you try and make sense of what he just said.  He's messing with you. He has to be.

Fear and uncertainty makes your stomach churn and your skin loses all color, your face getting cold and sweaty as the bile rises up in your throat. You thought you could handle this but you can’t. You’re too much of a coward to risk it and your sense of self-preservation rears its deformed head once again. 

Standing up abruptly, you croak through your suddenly dry mouth,  "I think I’m gonna go. I need to lie down" 

Chan gets up too, not letting you go. "Oh, is everything okay? Are you sick?". 

"I’m fine. I’m just..." You explain weakly, wriggling yourself out of his grip as quickly as you can in your intoxicated state. "I gotta go."

“Hey, wait!” Chan calls after you, but doesn’t try to stop you. You hear him curse out just before you get out of earshot.

____________________

You wake up with a huge headache and an even bigger feeling of dread. The events of last night coming back like a bullet shot through your chest, and you’re even more confused now with the hangover shattering any hope of a coherent thought forming in your head. 

You stumble out of bed and head to the door, resolving to get some water and some painkiller so you’d maybe start to feel like your head wasn’t likely to explode at any moment. But as you slide the door open, you hear bickering voices just outside in the living room.

"Chan, what the hell are you doing man?" You hear a familiar voice ask but your brain is too scattered to pinpoint the owner of it right now. Luckily, you don’t need to as Chan speaks up in reply, "It's fine, Jisung. It’s all under control."

"No, it's not. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? That no matter how much she makes it seem like she cares, she could flip the table on me at any moment and that I shouldn’t trust her. That’s what you said!”

You quickly pick up that they’re talking about you despite how much you don’t want to believe it. But that’s the kind of language that has always been directed at you, there is no mistaking it. Yet, against all reason, you hope it’s not true. Or at least, you hope Chan would deny it. 

He doesn’t, of course. They never do.

“I know what I said!” 

“And? Do you trust her now?” Jisung asks incredulously. 

“Of course not.” Chan vehemently denies, the resoluteness in his voice piercing straight through your heart. 

Of course not. Of course he doesn’t trust you. What a ridiculous question.  

“Jisung is right, Chan.” A new voice adds and you focus on the sound of it, trying not to break down just yet. “You’re letting her sleep under your roof, man, and you didn’t even think to tell us. Has she been messing with your head?”

They are talking about you like you are some kind of monster, some wild beast that would pounce on you the second you turned your back to it. You’d find it amusing coming from anyone else, but not from Chan, because for once in your life you wanted to believe that someone could see you as something other than what the world thought you were. You blame yourself for this one. 

“My head is fine.” Chan retorts angrily, letting out a forced sigh. “I’m just.... She was in trouble and I had to help her.” 

“Oh, you had to?” The new guy interjects mockingly, “Tell me, would she have helped you if you were in her position?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Chan protests. 

“No, it’s not. She would’ve let you suffer and laughed about it. She’s bad news, man.” 

“I think you guys are being a little harsh.” Another voice speaks up, deeper than the rest. “Maybe she’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure Chan has a good reason for trusting her.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure his dick does.” Jisung scoffs, “You know, I can’t believe you’d do this after preaching to me for hours about how I need to stay away from her and how stupid I am for letting her get to me. But hey, I’m just a stupid squirrel hybrid, right?” 

You’ve heard enough. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you plaster a smile on your face and step into the living room, the four boys’ head snapping around to look at you. 

“Chan, you didn’t tell me we had guests.” You ponder theatrically, ignoring Chan’s dismayed exclamation of your name. "Oh hey, Sungie. I knew you'd be back for more." You wink at him and he immediately ducks behind the dark-haired stranger. 

“Please go back to your room.” Chan asks, equal measure pale and tense.

“But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Your eyes flit over the three guys, stopping when you get to the blonde, freckled one. “Especially this one. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The boy blushes at the unexpected flirtation but extends his hand out to you nonetheless. "I'm Felix." He greets you unexpectedly cheerily, and you’re even more surprised to find out that he’s the one with the deep voice.

But before you can take his hand, Chan steps between the two of you. 

"I need to talk to you." He grits, pulling you to your room and shutting the door behind you. “What are you doing?”

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Saying hi to the guests?” 

“Now is not the time for your games.” Chan rakes his hand through his hair, stressed out, but you keep up your innocent facade and he sighs in defeat. “You know what? Just stay in your room until they leave and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we’ll talk now. Are you ashamed of me or something?" You wonder, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said I was special to you? But apparently you say a lot of things.”

“Baby--”

“Why, Chan?” You finally let your facade drop, letting the full extent of your disappointment and sadness break through. “If you don’t want me here then why did you offer in the first place?”

“I do want you here. I just wasn’t planning on anyone finding out about this.”

You laugh in disdain, “How do you always know what to say, Chan?” 

“I’m sorry but you have to realize how bad this looks for me. I worked fucking hard to get to where I am today. There are so many people waiting for me to make the slightest mistake so they can watch me fall. And here you are… well, you don’t exactly have the best reputation. If people find out about us then--”

“Wow, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” You bite, venom lacing your every word.

He laughs cruelly. “Oh, yes, and the judgement comes out. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You can judge everyone and treat them like shit, but as soon as someone does the same to you you’re suddenly the poor misunderstood victim that everyone bullies.”

You reel back at the harshness of his tone and words. He’s never spoken to you like that before, no matter how much he was upset at you. It was jarring. “Stop it.”  

“Why? It’s what you’re best at, darling.” He sneers, continuing to ruthlessly attack you. “You judged me before you even knew me and went about treating me like a feeble predator because that’s what you decided that I am. And now you want me to take responsibility for your actions and stand up for you when other people treat you the way you’ve been treating them? But here’s the thing, baby; maybe if you had actually been a decent person and treated others with respect, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Hell if you'd been a decent person, you wouldn't be having such a hard time anywhere, not with me, not with school, not--" 

"No, fuck you, chan. Don't you dare tell me this is all my fault. You know nothing about my life! I can't believe I actually--never mind.”

“No say it. You actually what? Liked me? Cared for me? Don’t make me laugh, fox. You don't give a shit about me. Every time I try to get close to you, you pull back like I make you sick. If it weren’t for me offering you a place to stay, you wouldn’t even be talking to me right now. You only care now because I have something to give you, but the second you’re done with me, you’ll throw me in the trash like you do everyone else. And I’m not going to sacrifice all that I’ve worked for to entertain you until you’re bored.”  

“You may be right. I may be as awful as you all say I am.” You smile, tears falling down your face. “But at least I'm honest with myself. You on the other hand? Under all your pretense, you're just as fucked up as I am. And one day, everyone will see you for how ugly you really are. ” 

_______________________________

A/N: sorry guys she (me) had to do it to you. leave your feedback uwu

[makeste]

is it too late now to say sorry

anon I agree with almost all of this for the most part, but if you don’t mind I would like to come to Kacchan’s defense here a little bit. while he absolutely does need to apologize to Izuku, there are reasons why he hasn’t done so yet which boil down to a lot more than simply “he’s still a dick.”

anyway, so for my next trick, I will take the thesis statement of “Kacchan is afraid to apologize to Deku for both selfish and unselfish reasons, and Deku doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the apology because he pays no attention to his own needs”, and somehow transform that into a 3500 word rant lol.

first of all, I’ve said this before, but on the topic of whether or not Katsuki actually needs to apologize to Deku at all, my answer is an emphatic “yes.” is it necessary in order for him to earn Deku’s forgiveness? no. in fact I’m pretty sure Deku has already forgiven him. because that kid doesn’t have a petty bone in his body (not that wanting an apology from your friend who basically turned on you and made your life miserable for ten years and told you to go kill yourself is in any way petty at all), and because he has staunchly held on to what he could of their relationship throughout that entire time, hoping that one day they could somehow be friends again. Kacchan never stopped being “Kacchan” to him. Deku never stopped caring about him. and that goes beyond him simply being a good person; there’s also just an attachment there, for lack of a better word, that he is simply unwilling to give up. their friendship is that important to him. Kacchan is that important to him.

but just because Katsuki is almost guaranteed forgiveness from Izuku doesn’t mean the apology isn’t still owed. putting aside that it’s really the least he could do, I think an apology is also necessary in order for their friendship to ever move past the level it’s currently stuck at, for one simple reason: Izuku doesn’t actually know that Katsuki cares.

more specifically, he doesn’t know that Katsuki actually cares about him. because Katsuki, for various reasons which I’ll get to momentarily, has done such a spectacular job of hiding this fact that he even fooled a lot of us for a very long time. before chapter 284 came along, there was hardly any evidence at all that Katsuki actually cared about Izuku as a person beyond just the requisite, bare minimum level of “well I don’t actually want you to die or anything, because I’m not a complete shithead.”

because he hides it. and he hides it on purpose, which is a mind-blowing revelation I’m still only just starting to wrap my head around. it’s an act. all of his continued hostility toward Izuku since the Endeavor internship arc -- and possibly going even further back than that; possibly going all the way back to their second Ground Beta fight -- has been an act. here he is, continuing to bitch at him at every turn and basically doing everything he can to remind Izuku that They Are Rivals And Nothing More, and he has played that role so perfectly that hardly anyone suspected what was actually going on.

he cares about Izuku. not just subconsciously on a level where he’s in denial about it, but to a fully conscious and aware degree. he’s dedicated himself to helping Izuku as his way of trying to make amends. that’s a decision he consciously made, something he’s given a lot of thought to. he worries about Izuku. he worries about his selflessness and his recklessness and that one day he’ll take it too far and it will go terribly wrong. he worries about One For All and All For One, and about the legacy his friend has inherited that’s so much bigger than him, and which he knows Izuku won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for if it ever comes to that. he worries. he cares.

and Izuku does not know this. and he deserves to know this. and that’s why the apology is so important. not because it’s a magic sentence that will miraculously restore the ten years of friendship and trust that was lost between them, or heal the ten years of pain and misery that Izuku went through alone and friendless, because nothing can ever restore or heal that. as a gesture, an apology is nice, but it’s also fairly useless, at least on its own. it’s meaningless without action to support it, and rather pales in significance when held up against the LITERAL DECADE of misery that it’s trying to make up for.

but the reason it’s still so, so important in spite of all this is because Izuku doesn’t know that Katsuki cares about him. he doesn’t know that their friendship isn’t just one-sided. he does know that Katsuki is a good person, and that he has a good core beneath his prickly exterior. and he’s more adept than most people at seeing past Katsuki’s outer shell of bullshit and understanding what lies beneath. but he has a blind spot, and that blind spot is himself.

he hasn’t made the connection between “Kacchan is a good person who cares about other people and is trying to do the right thing” to “Kacchan cares about me.” because Kacchan has been diligent in making sure that every time Izuku does start to make that connection, that he shoots it back down and disproves it as vehemently as he can.

which, just to be clear, is actually a huge load of bull, as we now know. huh.

but anyway. the point is that Katsuki is still hiding this part of himself from Izuku. the fact that he actually cares. the fact that their friendship is reciprocated on a level that goes beyond just rivalry and shared secrets and a mutual admiration for All Might. Izuku doesn’t know yet how much Katsuki cares about him, and he deserves to know.

and that’s why the apology is important. not because the words themselves are important, but because he deserves to know that Katsuki is sorry. he deserves to know that Katsuki cares about him. he deserves to know that he’s valued, that Katsuki sees him as someone who has value. he deserves that. and that, more than anything else, is why the apology is needed, and why it’s important for him to actually hear those words. because Katsuki was spot on when he said that Izuku doesn’t see himself in the way that he should, and I think he needs this to help him understand a little better just how much value he actually has.

so that’s part one of my rant! and now we move on to part two, which can basically be summarized as “okay but then WHY has Katsuki not just FUCKING APOLOGIZED TO HIM ALREADY.” because yeah, though. at the end of the day, this is all on him. and he does care, and he is sorry. so then what is still holding him back??

and that... is complicated. and it basically boils down to four things.

1. it’s insufficient.

ten years. all the way back to when they were four years old and Izuku first learned that he didn’t have a quirk. ten years of Katsuki bullying him and distancing himself from him. ten years of pain and isolation and unhappiness that Izuku absolutely did not deserve.

and yes, it ultimately stemmed from a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t make it right in the least. there’s absolutely no justification for it. Katsuki knew that it was wrong and he acted like that nonetheless. and anyone who says that Izuku in any way brought it on himself, that it’s in any way his fault or that he invited it on himself by not leaving Katsuki alone -- you can miss me with that, tbh. he was a child and he was lonely and confused and didn’t understand why his best friend had suddenly turned his back on him. this was the most vulnerable period in his life, and the person who should have had his back ended up being the person who made it even worse for him instead. and even after Izuku grew out of the so-called stalking and actually did mind his own business, and just admired Katsuki from a distance -- that still wasn’t enough to appease Katsuki either. even just the mere mention of Izuku wanting to go to U.A. was enough to set him off worse than ever before. that was absolutely not Izuku’s fault in any way, and I’m positive that even Katsuki himself would agree. Katsuki was terrible. I can’t emphasize enough just how terrible he was.

so yeah. ten years of that. and now Katsuki finally realizes just how awful it was. and he’s sorry! and he regrets it, a lot, and he wants to atone for it.

but now here’s problem number one: when you put it up in comparison to ALL OF THAT, an apology just feels overwhelmingly inadequate. almost laughably so. and Katsuki may be a bit emotionally dense (although perhaps less so than we always thought), but he’s sharp enough to realize this much, at least. it’s almost pathetic to simply try saying “I’m sorry” after all of that, and expect it to mean anything at all. it’s not enough. it’s so much not enough that I imagine he must almost feel helpless just imagining it. the weight of everything he’s done is so much, and an apology isn’t enough to undo any of it. it’s not even close.

Katsuki isn’t someone who backs down from things easily, but the sheer scale of the mistakes he’s trying to grapple with now is enough to give just about anyone pause. how do you even begin to address something like that? how can you even begin to make up for it? and Katsuki isn’t stupid, and I have to imagine that everything he saw during that first week of interning with Endeavor only cemented this for him. an apology simply isn’t enough. not for something like this.

2. it’s unfamiliar.

reason number two! and this one is a bit selfish on his part, yeah. but Katsuki is still just a kid too. and his falling out with Izuku didn’t only have a negative impact on Izuku; it hurt Katsuki as well. he lost that friendship too. he thought Izuku was looking down on him, and I’m certain that hurt him a lot more than he ever let on. if you trust someone and care about them only to have them turn on you like that (even though he got it wrong and it was ultimately all just in his head) -- that hurts. it’s not a coincidence that he became closed off and mean afterwards, and that even now he’s resistant to letting other people get close to him. for all that it was more or less self-inflicted, it still had a huge impact.

but now he’s learned that Izuku was never looking down on him at all and that he had it wrong this whole time. and as a result, he’s gotten this chance now to try and rebuild the childhood friendship that he almost destroyed. and make no mistake, this is something he wants too. it’s not just Izuku who’s grateful to have this chance to have normal interactions with the other again. this is something both of them value, and Katsuki doesn’t want to ruin it this time.

so he’s picking up where he left off! only the thing is, this involves him reverting to a blueprint that hasn’t been updated since the two of them were four years old, lol. “normal” for them is him being a bossy little snot, and Izuku happily shrugging it off with all of his limitless nerdy enthusiasm as they go about their various misadventures together. it’s a script that hasn’t changed since they were children, and one they’re both still more than content to use, but it is an outdated script nonetheless. Katsuki is playing the role that Izuku expects him to play. and it’s not like he’s being dishonest or anything like that, because that’s still him; he’s still his same old short-tempered, argumentative self, and it’s not like his personality has done a complete 180 or anything like that.

but at the same time, there’s a calmer side to him now which he is deliberately keeping hidden from Izuku because it’s off-script for them. it’s unfamiliar ground. with Izuku, he’s always been this Kacchan:

and again, it’s not like he isn’t actually that person, especially when it comes to his old rival. but at the same time, there’s another side to him that he rarely if ever lets Izuku in particular see. Izuku never sees the quiet Kacchan who avoids other people’s eyes while he fiddles with his water bottle and calmly asks questions about the OFA successors. Izuku never sees the insightful Kacchan who opens up about his own regrets and weaknesses. there’s a level of emotional intimacy, for lack of a better term, that Katsuki has been unwilling to let them cross into. and if I had to guess why, my guess would be that it’s because Katsuki is afraid that changing up the formula now will lead to unfamiliar territory which may or may not end up completely upending their relationship just as it’s starting to grow into something actually solid again.

which brings me to reason #3!

3. he’s afraid.

Katsuki already experienced what it was like to fall out with Izuku. and again, for all that he was the cause of it, and that Izuku had it much, much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that it was a pretty terrible experience for him as well.

and look, we know Katsuki is afraid of losing Izuku. that’s confirmed canon now. he actually admitted that he was worried about Izuku, and that Izuku’s tendency to recklessly disregard his own wellbeing unsettled him and made him want to keep his distance. and he sacrificed himself to save Izuku’s life!! and did it automatically, unthinkingly, because the decision-making on his part was so fast it didn’t even register. that’s how much he cares. enough that his desire to protect Izuku now ranks higher than his own self-preservation.

and when something is that important to you, you will fight not to lose it. and Katsuki does not want to lose this. Izuku is important to him. by extension that means their friendship is important to him. and he wants to preserve that.

and the thing is, the apology is an obstacle to that. and he knows it. he knows he has to face it at some point, because he can’t atone without it. he has to take responsibility for what he did. he can’t keep running away from it forever.

but he also knows the potential consequences. he knows that apologies don’t always end in reconciliation. he knows falling-outs don’t always have a happy ending. he knows that forgiveness isn’t automatic, and that years of pain don’t just disappear just like that. and he recently got to see firsthand one possible way how it might all turn out.

he knows Izuku doesn’t have to forgive him. he knows Izuku might not forgive him. and he knows that he probably doesn’t deserve Izuku’s forgiveness, and that ultimately he does not have a say in the matter one way or the other. it’s Izuku’s choice, at the end of the day, and whatever he chooses Katsuki is going to have to accept it.

but you can know all of that, and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take responsibility, and yet still be afraid to face it. and yes, maybe it’s selfish of him to feel that way. but that selfishness is also human. it’s human to fear rejection, and it’s human to go through the various stages of trying to postpone having to face that. Katsuki is a brave kid, but he is just a kid, still. and this is going to be very hard for him to do. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have to be done. but I feel for him and I have a lot of empathy for the situation he’s currently in.

and there is also one last reason why I think he’s putting it off as well, and it just so happens that this reason actually isn’t selfish at all.

4. he doesn’t want false forgiveness.

and this one is ironically kind of at odds with reason #3! Katsuki fears the possibility of Izuku not forgiving him... but at the same time, I think that strangely enough, there’s also a part of him that fears being forgiven, just like that. easily and gladly and unconditionally, with the trademark selflessness that defines so many of Izuku’s other decisions.

“he just... deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

Izuku rarely if ever takes himself into consideration, and Katsuki knows this. he’s selfless to a fault, and Katsuki knows this. and so if Katsuki were to come up to him and apologize, there’s the possibility that yes, Izuku might decide not forgive him. he might in fact be all “nah, you know what, fuck you,” as would certainly be within his rights.

but this is a very remote possibility, and we all know it. and Katsuki knows it too, I think. because that’s not who Izuku is. he puts other people’s welfare above his own, every time. and so if Katsuki were to break down and tell Izuku that he was sorry, and if he were to ask him for forgiveness, nine times out of ten that is something that Izuku grants instantly. this is the same kid who put his own life at risk to try and save Katsuki less than an hour after Katsuki told him to dive off a roof. Izuku’s instinct is to protect and save. and so if he sees that Katsuki is hurting; if he sees that Katsuki feels guilty for what he’s done and that it’s eating away at him in much the same way as when he was blaming himself for Kamino -- he is going to do what he always does. he is going to try and save him.

and he would do that even if it meant shoving down his own pain. he absolutely would. he would prioritize Katsuki’s feelings over his own. and if he did still feel any lingering resentment at how cruelly he was treated, he would still put it aside if need be. and he would forgive him.

in other words, the risk exists that Izuku might grant Katsuki forgiveness that he doesn’t actually feel. if Katsuki is granted Izuku’s forgiveness, he doesn’t have any way to actually tell for sure if it’s real. there would be that element of doubt there, that question of whether or not it’s really sincere. and something like that could ultimately poison their relationship, if things were allowed to play out that way. it would prevent them from being fully able to trust each other. ultimately, it might lead to them drifting apart again, and something like that might ultimately be even more painful than Izuku rejecting Katsuki’s apology outright. and there’s also an argument to be made that Izuku doesn’t deserve to be put on the spot like that, and forced to make that decision one way or the other when he might not be ready to yet. so there’s that to consider as well.

so yeah. four reasons why Katsuki has not apologized to Izuku yet. and they are good reasons, in my book. complicated reasons, too. but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day this is still something he has to do. his current way of trying to atone through action is great, don’t get me wrong! and it’s necessary too for sure, because like I said, the apology just on its own is never going to be enough. he needs to commit to doing the right thing, and trying his best to make it right between them from here on out. and saving his life is certainly a decent start! but you still gotta say the words too eventually bro.

but there is just a ton of stuff at play here and I find it all fascinating tbh. they are just so, so bad at communicating with each other. and the thing is, they both actually want the same thing! but they want it so badly that ironically it’s almost holding them back right now, because they don’t want to put it at risk. but ultimately this is a leap of faith that Katsuki in particular is going to have to take sooner rather than later in order to finally restore that last bit of trust between the two of them.

so yeah. just two stupid teenage boys who fail at emotions, and who are probably overdue for another of their famous Get It All Out In The Open stupid shounen therapy battles lmao. round 3, featuring Deku’s new robot arms vs Katsuki and his shiny new “like father like son” All Might torso scar. sob.

[yanderedanganronpafun]

Sickly sweet - Yandere Chihiro Fujisaki x Female Darling

Hiya guys! It has been awhile since I wrote something but I finally felt inspired again because of the song Saccharine by Jazmin Bean! So this fic is loosely based off of their song and I just got inspired to write about Yandere Chihiro baby, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Obsession, mentions of blackmail, online stalking, masturbation, kidnapping

Words: 1681

Chihiro knew what he was feeling wasn't exactly okay, oh he was perfectly aware of it. These feelings truly scared him to his very core, never before had he ever felt this way about anybody else. All he wanted was to understand these emotions so they wouldn't scare him so much. However it didn't matter what he did because these intrusive thoughts always came back and didn't leave him alone. These thoughts were dark and just so fucked.

When he first met her then it wasn't this way. He could still think properly and keep a clear mind but now it was absolutely impossible. He was unable to think about anything but her. Something about her was just driving him insane and it scared him so badly. She was so sweet and kind towards him, sure his other classmates were as well. At least nowadays they were. He still dealt with the trauma of being bullied harshly for being 'way too girly' for the other kids. But now he was better. He was finally learning to be more confident in himself but even then, understandably he dealt with a whole lot emotionally as well.

Yet (Y/N) was always there for him and she comforted him and always smiled at him. She was so sweet and caring towards him. He guessed it was no surprise that he ended up getting a crush on her. If only it would have stayed as an innocent crush like in those cartoons he had watched. Everything would be so easy then but his feelings just ended up being so dark.

Chihiro thought about her on a daily basis. He imagined how it would feel to be next to her, holding her hand, cuddling with her and kissing her. Sure, these thoughts were normal for anyone with a crush but his feelings didn't stay like this. Whenever he saw her talk to somebody else then he felt a heavy feeling in his chest that scratched into his soul. He did not want her to be near those other people who could never appreciate her as much as he did. He loved her so much and he really would do anything for her. These dark thoughts terrified him but he was unable to stop it and at this point he knew that he wouldn't be able too.

All of her words sounded like poetry to his ears. He felt so calm when he heard her voice and he wanted her to stay next to him, all the time, forever and ever. They were meant to be together! She had to understand it as well, right? He would never ever hurt her. The mere thought of that made him want to scream and tear out his hair. His love for her would cross any obstacle forced in his way.

(Y/N) was always so supportive and sweet towards everyone which in itself was very kind and selfless of her. He truly did love her for the way she was but he knew how cruel the world was. Everyone wanted to take advantage of her, all of these monsters would ruin her. Maybe these thoughts were irrational, perhaps they really were, but that didn't stop him from having them. If there was anyone who could keep her safe in this world then it was him and only him, that much he was sure of.

Chihiro had never been a violent person but the deeper his feelings went for her, then the more violent his thoughts cut. He just wanted to dispose of those people that were near his beloved and who would only end up hurting her. His sweet angel was far too innocent and naive to understand it herself, so he would do everything for her. He could read her mind so clearly, all she wanted was to be loved and cared for. He was more than happy to fulfill those dreams of hers. They were a perfect match made in heaven and his sweetheart knew it as well.

There was something else he started to do that he really never did before. He started to touch himself, very often, to the thought of her. He really couldn't control himself and often even had to leave class and go to the bathroom so he could get rid of his problem. He had many pictures downloaded onto his phone, all pictures that he could find from her social media but then he also started to take pictures of her without her knowing anything about it.

Sometimes she also visited his home and once she left behind her scarf and he knew he should give it back but it smelled just like her. When he held the material in his arms and smelled it then he could feel himself instantly get hard. Oh she was driving him insane but this feeling was so addicting. So he started taking whatever little items of hers that he could and kept it for his own personal shrine. She was an angel who was here to bless him with her love. (Y/N) was far too innocent to understand what the filth around her were thinking about her.

There were times when he heard some other boys talking about her in such a lewd way that it made him want to snap their necks. These types of disgusting wastes of oxygen did not deserve to live anyways. That is something he was more than sure of. He would protect her and though he didn't know if he would kill anyone then he could still use his skills to blackmail them and ruin their lives or find some other way to make them regret the day they fucked with his beloved. Which is exactly what he did as well. He made sure these bastards would stay away from her and not even look at her direction without the fear of angering him. Wasn't this romantic? He was protecting her honor and he would make sure nobody would ever hurt her!

However it still didn't feel like he was doing enough and he was still angry and protective of her. He thought she would be happy when these fake friends and weirdos would leave her alone and not talk to her anymore but she just seemed so sad. She seemed to appreciate him being there for her but at the same time she still wanted to stay away from her and he hated it. He tried so hard not to have to go to this last resort but he would have too now.

So when he invited her over to his place to watch some movies then she had thankfully agreed, made it easier for him and her as well. He hugged her tightly when she arrived and she returned the warm embrace. This already felt like heaven for him but it was gonna get even better than that. She would understand it eventually as well. The two of them watched some movies and ate snacks until he offered to bring something for them to drink. He left the room and went to the kitchen, sneakily letting some pills dissolve in her drink until he returned with two cups in his hands. He sat close to his angel and made sure to not look too excited while he watched her finish her drink and slowly have the pills take effect. She was so innocent that she didn't realise a thing until she had passed out next to him.

Chihiro gently kissed her forehead before dragging her to his basement. He had cleaned it up and made it all nice and cosy for her. There was a small bed there as well. He made sure to carefully tie her hands to the bedposts. Even the restraints showed how caring he was! These were silk ropes so she would not get any ropeburns but still not be able to break free. He patiently waited for her to wake up, all the while playing with her hair as he was cuddled next to her. Oh she was such a sleeping beauty, his sleeping beauty. He barely even noticed when she started to wake up. He adjusted himself into a sitting position and smiled down on her sweetly.

The effect of the drug was still starting to wear off, so it took her a few moments until she realised that she couldn't move her arms and that he was staring straight at her. She was very visibly scared and while it did upset him a little, then he knew she would get over it in no time at all. “Chihiro?” (Y/N) whimpered quietly, oh his poor darling was so scared that she didn't even know what to say. She was just so perfect “Don't worry sweetie! Everything is okay! You are safe with me! I know this might seem scary now but you'll see in no time at all that you love me as much as I love you!” He was so happy that he could finally confess his love to her. This was the happiest day of his entire life!

Chihiro watched her tremble but he only hugged her close and wiped away the tears that came to the corners of her eyes. He could see her lips move but he didn't hear anything, after all he was just so happy right now. He leaned in closer to her beautiful face and connected their lips. She let out an adorable squeak as her trembling intensified. Oh his angel was just so perfect. He enjoyed the kiss and slowly pulled away. His cheeks were completely red. “So sweet...I love you so much, my angel. I know you love me too and we will be so happy together!” Before she could open her pretty lips he had already connected their lips in another kiss as his hands explored her body. Chihiro knew that he was in heaven now that she was with him and she was here to stay.

Their eternity together was gonna be nothing but sweet bliss.

[sierraraeck]

Love Somebody

Spencer x GN!Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After your big fight, both you and Spencer are filled with guilt. Is there any way to salvage your relationship? Part four.

Category: Angst and fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. References to past fights, and a very brief mention of drug use.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Inspired by the song “Love Somebody” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Start by talking to Spencer.

You’d been mulling over those five words for days now and it was driving you absolutely insane. The whole reason you wanted to talk to a therapist in the first place was so you could find some peace and be able to focus better at work. Instead, you were even more distracted than you had been before, thinking about all of the different ways that the conversation could go.

Start by talking to Spencer. Oh yeah, sure, I’ll just talk to him. You know, like ‘hey, Spence, remember when you said you never wanted to see me again? Well I’m here now because I wanted to see you and work things out.’ Like what? That was never going to work.

Hey Spencer. I know it’s been a over a month since we talked and we basically broke up and the last thing I said to you was about your drug addiction, but-

Your mind faltered at the thought. It was painful to go back there and remember how cruel you’d been to each other, and then another thought popped into your mind. Is he back on drugs? Oh god, could he be passed out somewhere?

You shot straight out of your chair before thinking through what you were doing. What would you even do if you showed up and he was just fine? Plus, it’d been a month, you were sure his team could handle whatever was going on with him. Then you started wondering how he’d been handling everything. You certainly hoped better than you had. Than you were. Maybe his team would know. You weren’t super close with them, but close enough you could ask them, right? No, definitely not. Actually, now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen any of them for a really long time. Not even accidental run-ins with them coming or going from work or in the break room. You started to wonder what they were up to. What he was up to.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer felt awful. The moment he slammed the door to his own apartment after your big fight he broke down into a heap of tears. So much had happened over the past 13 months, and the full weight of it all was just now coming down on him. He lost Maeve. He found you. He lost you. He lost himself.

Spencer never thought he would say things like that. He never thought that he could be so cruel as to tell the person he loved that he would have rather died for his ex-girlfriend than be with them. Granted, he never thought you would say what you said either, but perhaps he deserved it. He’d treated you poorly leading up to that, and he’s a profiler, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did. Because he was blind. All the pain and trauma and desperate attempts to stitch his life back together using your needle and thread blinded him. He couldn’t see how much you were doing for him and how much you were struggling to keep your relationship together, and he couldn’t force himself to see how much he was struggling to hang on to any semblance of the past. Any semblance of a normal, trauma-free life. He couldn’t see it. He refused to see it. And it cost him.

He took the rest of the week off and then the weekend to himself, fighting a constant battle between feeling pathetic for not being able to go into work like you probably had, and feeling like he made the right choice considering he could barely force himself to eat. He blamed you, he blamed himself, he blamed the whole damn universe for constantly fucking him over. He used Maeve and his social awkwardness and his past as excuses for his behavior, and immediately hated himself for it. He hated himself even more for fantasizing about doing exactly what you’d told him to. He knew who to call, he knew he probably still had a tourniquet around his apartment somewhere, and he knew how much it would hurt you to know that the last thing you said to him came true.

Then I guess you’re real happy you know where to get the drugs that can help you finally do that.

He hated you. No, that wasn’t it. He hated that he drove you to hate him. Did you hate him? He figured you had to after everything he put you through. And for what? So he could feel better after what he’d lost? So he could ignore the grief and the sorrow and bury it in your selfless compassion? So he could, as you said, rip apart your life?

No, that couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t have yanked you from your life for nothing. He had to make it up to you. But he didn’t even know where to start. You probably didn’t even want to see him, let alone give him the air space to explain himself. He deserved as much.

But you didn’t. You didn’t deserve that, he kept repeating to himself. He was going to make it up to you somehow. You were the most important thing in his life, one of the only people who supported him through everything, and he cared about you, more than anything. And he loved you. He would not have the last thing he said to you be ‘fuck you.’ But first, he had to make it through his first day back to work.

No one questioned him. No one said anything about his absence, and he was both grateful and irritated. Grateful that he didn’t have to explain himself, but irritated that it seemed like no one cared. Maybe he’d gotten too used to that, no one seeming to care. Maybe that’s why whenever you asked him how he was doing, and pushed him for more than a simple ‘fine,’ he felt like you were interrogating him. He wasn’t used to having to communicate like that, especially about his feelings, which he’d never been able to communicate well. Not like he’d ever practiced that. Not like dad stuck around long enough to have him practice that. Not like his mother ever noticed or remembered long enough to make him practice that. Not like any of the people he considered family ever pushed him far enough to practice that. The most frustrating part was that even Spencer didn’t know which way he preferred to go about it, talking or not talking. Neither, he supposed.

But, communication is key, something you seemed to understand to a nauseating degree, and a concept his big brain couldn’t seem to wrap around.

He didn’t see you at all that first day. Or that first week. Or that first month. He started wondering if you’d requested a transfer to a different field office, or maybe asked for your old job back. He wouldn’t know either way. He could ask you, but that would require actually talking to you, something he’d been trying to force himself to do for what felt like forever.

The first time anyone actually questioned his behavior was when the team got back from a case and were headed out for drinks. He declined the offer, making up some excuse about a head start on paperwork. The team exchanged some glances before packing into the elevator, leaving him alone with his thoughts, an occasion that was becoming way too frequent for Spencer’s liking.

He’d just started reading through his third file when the sound of the glass doors swinging open caught his attention.

A very colorful Penelope marched over to him in what he thought would be uncomfortably high heels. She grabbed the rolly chair from the desk next to him, rolled it over to his desk, and plopped down right in front of him.

“What is going on with you, my Boy Wonder?” she asked in a soft, yet demanding voice.

Spencer shrugged, “What do you mean?”

Penelope gave him a pointed look. “I thought you and Y/N really liked coming out with us?”

“Not tonight.” Spencer kept his answers short, not wanting to lie to one of his best friends, but also not wanting to get into it.

Penelope reached out for Spencer’s hands which he hadn’t realized were trembling until then. She kept them tightly pressed between her own and looked him straight in the eyes. “I know I’m not a profiler, but it doesn’t take one to know when a friend is hurting. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I’m always here and ready to listen.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the water brimming at the surface. He nodded at her, and she gave his hands one good squeeze before releasing them. She waited for a few moments longer, hoping that he’d decide to say something but he didn’t.

It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the doors to leave when he called her name. “Penelope?”

She turned around and took a couple steps back toward him. “Yes?”

Then, in one quick motion, he stood up and enveloped her in a hug. Tears were already flowing down his face as Penelope held him as tight as she could, wanting him to know that she was going to support him no matter what. “Shh,” she tried to comfort him, moving her hands in soft strokes up and down his back, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Spencer’s voice cracked, “I messed it all up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Penelope cooed. “Would you tell me about it?”

He told her everything. How you’d gotten the job at the FBI, how you constantly fought, how his mother started getting worse, how you found out about Maeve, and how you’d left each other that last time. He was a blubbering mess spouting about how much he still cared about you and how he’d certainly screwed it up, and Penelope tried to keep her composure, even as she felt all of his pain so deeply. “Nothing is irreparable, Spencer. If you really love Y/N that much, I think you should try to make it work.”

“But I’m not sure if they still love me.”

“I’m willing to bet they do.”

“How can you say that? You didn’t see them the last time we fought. I think I might have really destroyed us.”

“Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. If after everything you’ve been through together, you still feel this strongly for them, I bet they feel just as strongly for you. You know what, I bet Y/N is having all the same thoughts you’re having right now. If you really want to be with them, you should talk to them,” Penelope encouraged.

“What would I even say?”

“Exactly what you said to me.” Spencer gave her a questioning look. “About how much you love and miss them. And how much you want to make it work.”

She gave him a soft smile and he sighed. “You think that will work?”

“I think that it’s the best thing you can do.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You were sitting in your car outside of Spencer’s apartment trying to talk yourself up. You could do this. You could knock on his door and talk to him like an adult. You could tell him how much you wanted things to work out. This is what you wanted, and even if it went horribly, you knew that it would put your mind more at ease knowing where he stood.

You walked confidently up to his door, but right as you were about to knock, you panicked. God, maybe it was better to just leave things as they were and see if he came to your first. Yes, that was a good plan, you could just wait and see what Spencer wanted.

You hadn’t driven all the way over to his apartment just to chicken out at the door, though. You knew that for better or worse you needed answers, so in a bout of confidence, you knocked on his door. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After about five minutes, you knocked again, calling his name, but there was no answer.

You let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like a sign from the universe or whatever that this just wasn’t meant to happen. Or maybe Spencer was inside waiting for you to leave, and that would be answer enough. Either way, you only had one place to go from there, and it was back to your apartment. You wished you would have been able to talk to him, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone and you definitely weren’t going to do it at work, so you felt like the opportunity had been missed.

At least, that was your theory as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, nearly getting run over on your way up.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Spencer exclaimed. Spencer?

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” you asked, taking the final steps up to the landing now that Spencer had moved aside to give you the room.

“Oh, um, I was here because, um, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I-I wanted to apologize. For everything. For the way I handled our last argument, a-all of our arguments, but especially that one. I realized that I had been trying to use you to cover up the grief I was feeling, and I know how wrong of me that was. It wasn’t fair to you, any of it. I know that you know how bad I am at expressing my feelings, and how I’m even worse at talking about them. I’m trying to get better. You don’t owe me anything, and I understand if you don’t want to, but I want to try again. I know it will take a while for you to trust me again, but, Y/N, you make me want to be better. I want to be better for you. You make me feel whole, a-and I know that it’s not fair of me to put that on you either! But it’s true. I love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to try again.”

You stared at him as you tried to process everything he was saying, his demeanor getting more nervous by the second. Then, at the irony of it all, you started laughing. Which was definitely the wrong approach to the situation, but before Spencer could get really uncomfortable, you explained, “I just came from your place to tell you the exact same thing.”

His eyes got wide, and a shy smile crept its way onto Spencer's face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I hate fighting with you, and miss being around you. I’ve been driving myself crazy these past few weeks going over and over what I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back, but I want you to know that I regret it, so, so much, Spencer. It wasn’t right of me to expect so much out of you after everything you’d been through. Everything you’re going through. I want to make this work.”

“Me too,” Spencer said with a sheepish smile. “I know that I’ve been trying to make this into our old dynamic, and you were right when you said that we don’t really know each other for who we are now. So I want to start all the way over, if that’s alright with you. I want to get to know Y/N Y/L/N, the successful FBI lawyer, not Y/N Y/L/N the person I used to know from high school.” You nodded your head, a curve to your lips. “Well, then if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself.”

You pressed your lips together, unsuccessfully holding back the small laugh as Spencer walked a few paces from you, just to turn around and walk back toward you. He extended his hand and you reached out to shake it. “Hello. I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. It’s good to meet you, sir.” You bit your bottom lip, knowing exactly how he’d respond.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

You feigned surprise. “Wow, doctor, huh? What do you do, Doctor Spencer Reid? Are you a surgeon of some kind?”

He gave a small laugh, trying to compose himself. “No, actually, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“That’s impressive. You know, I actually work for the FBI as well.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes going wide.

“Yes. I’m a lawyer, but just recently started working for them. I worked for a successful firm just before this.”

“Wow, that sounds very interesting,” he enthusiastically said, eyes shining. “Now, I’m usually not this bold, but I saw you from over there,” he gestured to the spot behind him he’d just come from, “and I must say that you are very attractive. I would love to take you out for dinner and get to know you better sometime…” he trailed off.

“Sounds amazing Doctor,” you agreed.

As he started idly moving around you to get to the stairs, he said, “Well, it’s been really great meeting you Y/N Y/L/N, the FBI lawyer, and I’m excited to get to know you better.”

“As am I, Doctor Spencer Reid of the BAU,” you grinned. God, you two were so cheesy.

“I hope that I will get a call from you soon,” he mirrored your grin, but his voice was a bit less confident than it was before.

“You might not have to hope for too much longer.”

Spencer tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide and sparkling. He looked like your Spencer, the Spencer you’d fallen in love with.

He practically skipped down the steps, pausing only momentarily to glance back up at you. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled to himself as he travelled the rest of the way down, and you looked after him with fondness in your eyes. You’d have to say, this was so much better than all the other times you had to watch Spencer walk away. This time, you were overwhelmed with hope for what this new beginning would mean for your relationship.

A/N 2: This was the fourth and final part of this mini-series! I hope you all enjoyed it, and thanks again to the anons that encouraged me to turn this into the series that I wanted it to be! Much love!

[stellarboystyles]

From the Dining Table

hello friends <3 this is my second fic for the HS1 Masterlist that @bfharry​ , @stylesloveclub​ and I have teamed up to write for you, hope you enjoy x

2.9k angst angst angst

For the first time in a long time, Harry was alone. It was a strong contrast to his old schedule, his days were always jam packed with press interviews, meetings, radio interviews, red carpets, appearances, talk show interviews, meet and greets, concerts...He was definitely a busy bee. 

He knows he should be happy. It should be unquestionably irie to simply relax and have some time to himself, but Harry is miserable. Has been ever since her. It’s been too long since he’s seen her eyes, those pretty eyes that he could get lost in for hours gazing back at him, and her smile. God, her smile could cheer him up in his darkest days. He can’t stop thinking about her cheeks and how he used to squish them while he cooed at how adorable she was because they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen and whenever she would blush around him he’d brush his thumb across her cheeks and give her butterfly kisses across her soft skin. 

He loves her sense of humor, and how she could always make him laugh. Even if he thought he was having the worst day of his life, he saw her and nothing else mattered. Thinking about her personality made his heart thump in his chest. She was so sweet and kind, and so selfless. She was always doing things for other people and she was strong, and so supportive of everything. His lifestyle, his busy schedule, his privacy, everything. 

He loves her style, he definitely finds himself wearing things that he thinks she would like. She’s the one who inspired him to jump out of his comfort zone of tight jeans and chelsea boots and explore different colors, patterns, materials, and he’s forever grateful that she showed him that he could be himself, he swears she’s the real reason he truly blossomed into his own style. Not just around her, but that he could show the world who he really was as well. And she cares so much about animals, he loves watching her interact with them, one of his favorite memories being the time that she rescued a family of bunnies from a fox in Harry’s back garden and it was quite literally the sweetest thing his eyes had ever seen. He misses her tender heart and how gentle natured she is. 

He misses how he feels fireworks every time she touches him. He misses how her lips taste, how it feels when they move against his. He misses her soft skin, and how she smells like citron and rose. He misses waking up every morning and seeing her all sleepy as he kisses her all over. He misses how she used to touch him and he feels in his bones that no one could ever make him feel the way that she did. 

He misses all of that, all of her. Every single inch of her skin, every little bit of what makes her who she is. But he doesn’t get any of her. Not anymore. Instead, he’s alone in this random hotel room and awake at four in the morning because he can’t think about sleep. If he does, all he’d dream about is her. Not that being awake is any better because she is the only thing swirling around in his brain. Flashbacks are hell, especially when he can’t stop thinking about her being on top of him right now, looking completely fucked out of her mind as she rides his cock. He’d be pressing the back of his head into the pillows and she’d touch his chest and smooth her hands down to his lower belly and she’d be doing all the things that she knows drives him fucking wild.

He can’t help himself as he starts to lightly tease himself through the white sheet covering the lower half of his body and there’s a hitch in his breath at the feeling of his fingertips stroking his cock under the thin material. His eyes flutter closed and he’s got nothing on underneath and it just makes him think of her more because he thinks of how much she loved barebacking, and Harry really fucking loved it. The feeling was indescribable, feeling her so deeply on such an intimate level was something out of this world. With every thought of her his reflexes added more pressure, his body temperature rising with every moment passing by until he’d had enough and nearly rips the sheet away from his lower torso and he’s fisting himself now, chasing his release and all he can think about now is how much better she is at the act in question, so much so that it blew Harry’s mind. He didn’t last long, but at this point he didn’t give two fucks if he had an orgasm or not, he just needed to feel something. He was left in a daze as he pushed himself off the bed and towards the bathroom.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊

Long, hot showers were created for the sole purpose of contemplating your life, right? Or are they just for trying to cry away a broken heart. He doesn’t know the answer, nor does he know how long he stood there, before tilting his head back and letting the water splash onto his wet locks. Hot water from the shower head hitting his back. After around twenty minutes his skin was numb to the feeling. 

In the beginning he’d considered it all, but the reality? She left him, without any sort of reason. Harry’s spent weeks and weeks wracking his brain for something, anything he could’ve done so that he can apologize, make it right. Truly, he hadn’t felt that he’d done anything to upset her. So yes, he had every right to be angry. Maybe it was his fault. He’d spent endless sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of a hotel room, mostly because he couldn't bear to be home because everything reminded him of her, and his mind just couldn’t go there. His nights were spent tossing and turning, doing absolutely nothing until his friends finally convinced him to go out with them. 

He didn’t want to admit that it was better than wallowing in self pity all night, but it was. For the next few weeks, all Harry had gotten himself into a cycle. Go out, get drunk, and at the end of the night he’d always be unsatisfied. He kept telling himself he was never going out for the sole purpose to bring a girl that looked like her back to his hotel room, but that’s just what he was telling himself. Deep inside, he was struggling to feel anything. He was angry, sad, and broken.

She didn’t leave her bed for three days. Dejection mercilessly beat up her heart until it felt like there was nothing left. The heartbreak gnawed away at her. She was barely eating, couldn’t sleep and she had no one to blame but herself. She stayed huddled under the covers as she wallowed in self sorrow, knowing all too well that this was all her fault. 

It was a travesty. It should have never happened, especially not like this.

The connection they shared was unbreakable. It was evident that nothing could ever raze the bond that they created together. They made the best team, and they were inseparable. Everything was perfect. Harry was charming, loving and softhearted. 

Their love was like the ocean. It was tranquil and soothing, yet strong and deep. It was so incredibly breathtaking, but also had the intense potential to destroy. To put it simply, she was damaged. Way before she met Harry, and that was it. She thought she had it under control, she thought that they could make it. They did, for a while, but her demons caught up with her eventually. Everything heightened after she was exposed to all of it. The rumors, the paparazzi, the backlash. It triggered all the worst parts of her, the things that she had kept under control for so long. He tried to help her, tried to fix them. They both tried, but it just wasn’t working. 

Now, months later, she was here at the airport. She knew she had to go to him and try to make things right. Clutching her ticket in her hand, she slouched into her chair, staring at all the glowing red words that read “cancelled” across the board. How unlucky was she that she would be stuck at the airport, alone.

“Hi, d’you have any flights t’London for tonight?”

She could hear her heart thumping in her ears when she heard the voice at the desk a few feet away from behind her. It felt like every cell in her body was on fire, she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could happen yet! She was supposed to have a six hour flight to coach herself before this.

“A’right, thank you.”

Oh my god, is he gonna say something? Of course he won't, he hates me.

It felt like she didn’t know him anymore, this boy, this charming, sweet boy that she fell in love with. She was afraid of how angry he is, how bitter that she left. 

“Y/N?”

His voice was soft and hesitant, almost shaky.

Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment before looking up at him. He looked dumbfounded, at a loss for words. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw each other. He watched the color drain from her face, and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. There they were, face to face in JFK Airport. Seeing each other for the first time since their downfall. 

The tension couldn’t get any thicker. Her eyes were locked onto his face, watching him give a pained expression before quickly brushing past her. 

“H, wait—”

“You don’t get t’call me tha’ anymore.” 

His voice was cold, biting back at her words over his shoulder. He didn’t stop sauntering across the airport and she struggled to keep up. 

“Please...I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?” She implores before pressing her lips together. “Please.”

His teeth clench before stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her. 

“Took y’long enough.” 

There was no hint of humor in his voice, no Styles charm, no cheeky smile, no dimples, nothing. 

“You look good.”

He scoffs, almost rolling his eyes because he know’s that she’s lying. He knows she’s being kind. 

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Shit.

“Right.” she nods, eyes falling down to his shoes. 

“How are you?”

“Miserable.” she answers honestly. 

“S’tha’ supposed t’be my fault?”

She felt her waterline start to sting, but he had every right to be bitter. 

“No,”

“Fuck, shouldn’t have said tha’, m’sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” she shakes her head dismissively, brushing off his apology. “I deserved that.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Are we really doin’ this right now?”

She gave him a look of desperation, silently begging him to stay. Begging him to listen, even if she didn’t deserve that from him, she knew she didn’t. Harry contemplated whether he should give her any of his time, miss his flight to listen to whatever sorry excuse for an apology she had. But, his heart was still soft for her. 

“Where were y’goin?” 

“I...I was coming to see you. I thought you’d be in London.”

She was going to London? 

“Y’were goin’ t’London?” he quirks, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

She nods. Yeah, to see you.

Harry has the biggest, yet quickest inner battle of his life. He wasn’t sure if letting you back into his house after what happened was the worst decision he’ll ever make or the best one, but he sure as hell  felt that it was the right one. 

“We can’t talk here.” he muttered, fumbling with his phone once it was pulled out of his pocket. “We can go back to mine.”

Her focus falters, eyes looking at anything but him. she hadn’t been there since…since she fucked up, to put it simply. Her nerves were on the verge of snapping into an anxiety attack.

The car ride to Harry’s house was...well, she couldn’t think of anything more awkward. Except the first moment they had stepped inside his house. Neither of them bothered to get their things out of the back of his car, the luggage quickly forgotten. 

It was evident that his energy was extremely low. The discoloration under his eyes was evident and it made her want to cry. She watches in agony as he trudged over to the fireplace mantle, fingertips padding the glass of the frame. Inside was a photo taken when he had taken you on a trip to Norway last October. The two of you were dressed in some cozy pajamas, cuddling on the sofa as Harry took the picture with his camera. 

“They weren’t rumors, if you were wondering.” 

Her heart aches at his words. She remembered the headlines that ripped at her heart. Tears started to well up in her eyes, intently listening to the broken boy in front of her. 

“I was alone, would try and drink ‘til they looked like you.” 

Look at me. I’m right here, look at me.

“Said your name.” he murmurs, eyes focused down to where he’s fumbling with his hands. “Didn’t mean too, slipped out.”

Don’t cry, please don’t cry.

“Please look at me.” she cries, desperately trying to reach him, her Harry. “Look at me.”

“Can’t.” he’s shaking his head, locks flopping in front of his face. “I...I-I can’t-” 

“Why not.” only a mere second passes by and it’s already too deafening for her to bear. “Tell me.”

“Because, you-” he gulps down a cry but tears are still filling his waterline. “You.”

It feels like time is frozen, like the only thing happening in the entire universe is this conversation. 

“What?”

“You.” he looks up and locks his eyes with hers. “It’s you, s’always gonna be you. There’s never gonna be anyone else.” 

She takes a step towards him, but he backs away and she swears he flinches and it breaks her heart.

“No, no, no. Y’don’t get t’do tha’. Don’ touch me.”

His words stung like venom inking through her veins.

“H-”

“No!” his eyes turn cold. “If you touch me, I...I won’t make it, I swear. Just- please.”

Just let me love you.

“I…” It’s too much for her to look at him, but she has to say it. He’s quiet, waiting for her to finish. 

“I’m sorry.” she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up.”

“Look at me.” 

He repeats her previous words. Maybe it’s out of spite, but could she blame him? Not in the slightest. 

“You left me!” he snaps. “Why? What…” his chest is rising and falling faster than he can keep up with. “I’ve barely slept since you left, tryin’ t’think of what I did that was so awful.”

Guilt pangs through her as she watches him run his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyes averting to the floor.

“All I’ve ever done was treat y’like a princess,” he murmurs, kicking at the rug beneath his feet. “Sure, we were apart a lot, but I was starting fresh. We finally had time to do anythin’ we wanted. I thought you, of all people, would’ve wanted that.”

“I did, I-I still do.” 

“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ it.” 

She stayed silent, so he chose to pipe up again.

“Why.”

If she doesn’t say it now, she’ll never say it. This is her once chance to fix things.

“You were talking about things...moving fast, too fast,” she speaks barely above a whisper, the chipped blue polish on her nails suddenly becoming quite interesting. “And with everything that people were saying,”

“Know y’had a hard time, I know tha’. But I thought we worked through it. Then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“I got scared.” he sits down next to her as she’s talking. 

“Y’could’ve bloody told me tha’.” relief washes over him, but the temporary emotion is making him forget that the damage had already been done. “Would’ve understood.”

“I know.” she cried. “I panicked, and once I’d left, I felt like I couldn’t come back. I was so scared.”

“Y’can always come back t’me.” his voice is soft and he resists the urge to brush his thumb across her cheek. “I fuckin’ love you. Y’know that. Fuck’s sake, I was calling you, begging you for something.” he pried, not caring to wipe his eyes, now irritated from crying. “Why? Why didn’t you just talk to me?” 

Tears spilled onto your cheeks as you tried to apologize. “I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m so sorry.” 

“I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what scares you so we can work through those things together. Don’t just...don’t just leave.”

“It never should’ve happened that way.” she admits. “But I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.” she offers, and his eyes flicker to her face when he feels her fingertips graze his own. “Maybe someday, the time’ll be right for us.”

He loves her. Regardless of what she’s put him through, he loves her. 

“Tha’ time could be right now.” he speaks softly, moving his hand to hold hers. “For us.”

She looks up into his eyes, filled with hope and she moves her hands ever so slightly into his hold and he’s holding both of them now, and they're looking into each other’s eyes. 

“You think so?”

He nods, squeezing his grip gently. “Know so.” he brings her hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “We can make it.”

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Prologue]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Summary:  Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. 

A/N:  It’s a military AU which I forgot to mention because I’m an ass. Starting you out with some seriously sad shit right out of the gate. I am sorta sorry. Sorta not. @teamcap4bucky​ Read a preview and responded with “fucking, fuck you” so that should give you an idea of what you’re going into. There is a lot of angst but it’s not gratuitous. It’s purposeful and shows the ups and downs of grief and moving on. I think I grabbed everyone’s tags if not shoot me a message. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“I’m serious, Y/n.”

“Okay,” You mocked teasingly. “You’re serious.”

Steve growled, teasing smile curling up the edge of his lips despite the frustration in his eyes. He gripped your waist and pulled you away from his duffle, ignoring your yelp of protest and settling you on his lap. His pants scratched the back of your bar legs. You hated those stupid pants, they were stiff and uncomfortable. They made him look like someone you didn’t know. Or, at least someone you didn’t want to know. 

Your fingers find the soft, worn fabric of the ugly tan shirt he had to wear — Army regulation or not, it was still ugly. The fabric twisted around your fingers, pulling it from his pants, ruining his pristine appearance. Maybe if his shirt was wrinkled, he would get in trouble and not have to go. It was unlikely. He had a unit to command, but a frightened wife could dream, couldn’t she? 

This was the fourth deployment the two of you have gone through together. The stupid support groups were all liars. It didn’t get easier after the first, it got harder. You knew the risks before, but now you understood, really understood what they meant. Things became second nature that shouldn’t be second nature for anyone. Like turning your television on in the morning, to see if there would be a notification officer and chaplain knocking on your door within the next eight hours. Every night that passes without a call leaves you wondering if the last time you spoke would truly be the last. 

It leaves you panicked. Did you say I love you enough? Did he say it to you? Will you ever be lucky enough to hear it one more time? 

But then the call comes, and everything is right for the twenty minutes you get to hear his voice. 

The sparks are gone just as fast as he is. 

“Hey,” Steve’s voice had lost the hard, playful edge. It was soft. The softness he used when he tried to coax you awake in the morning, or when Steve spilled the secrets hidden within that generous heart of his — the same gentleness Steve used whenever he told you he loved you.

A roughened index finger tapped under your chin and tilted your head up from where it was hiding in his neck. 

“I meant what I said. This is the last one. I’m done after this.” 

It was that time again. Re-enlisting. You knew Fury had attempting to convince Steve to stay and true to his word Steve would shake his head and end the conversation before they ever got far. The Army could be persuasive, though. 

“You really think they will let you go?” 

Steve cupped your cheek and tightened his hold on your hip, tugging you securely onto his lap, so your legs hung off one side. “They won’t have much choice. I’ve given them all I can give them.” 

“B-But--” 

Steve leaned in and swallowed your broken protests in a gentle kiss. You didn’t have time for more, so it was nothing salacious, but his lips lingered far longer than they should if you were in public. Thankfully, you were still home and could savor the feel of his lips. The cool air hit your barely swollen lips, and you shuddered, immediately wishing he would kiss you again. You wanted to keep that warmth for just a little longer. 

“No buts. Do you trust me, Y/n?” 

You searched his eyes, bright, full of hope and vulnerable like they always were when he looked at you. 

“With my life. You know, I do.” 

Steve grinned, and if you weren’t already in love with him, you would be falling fast. 

“I promise you, Y/n. This is it. My last tour and then I’m all yours. We can do everything we said we would and finally start a family.” 

You could feel your eyes burning from tears; you refused to let fall. Steve brushed a kiss under your right eye, letting you know it was okay to let them fall if you wanted. 

“Do you really promise? This is the last time?” You finally whispered. 

“I do. There’s nothing that could keep me from coming to you. Fifteen months, baby. I just need you to hang on for fifteen months.” 

You huffed a watery laugh and wiped those insolent tears away. “I can wait fifteen months for you. I’d wait forever, Steve.” 

—

“—Steven Grant Rogers. A man who was devoted to his country and his lovely wife—” 

You blinked several times, your eyes focused on the dark wood five feet in front of you, and the words all ran together in your ears. You didn’t need to hear the kind of man your husband is. You knew. You knew how kind and selfless and courageous he is—he was. 

A cool breeze ruffled up the edges of your black dress and left you with a chill buried deep in your bones, one that would never leave you. At least the weather had behaved. There was no rain, the sun was glowing through what little clouds were nearby. It was the kind of day Steve would have called perfect. There was nothing perfect about today, no matter how brightly the damn sun insisted on shining. You had briefly thought of having the service inside some church somewhere, but neither of you attended enough while he was living to make that an option. Sarah had argued with you, they wouldn’t care about that. No one would judge you or ask you to leave, sweetheart. Deep down, you knew that. It simply didn’t feel like Steve, and you wanted his last moments with you to be him. 

Finally, you settled on the park where you met all those years ago, where he proposed, and under the tree where you vowed to love him forever seemed like the only right place to say goodbye. You don’t know how but between Sam and Nat, they found a way to make it happen. You assumed some strings were pulled, favors called in that you could never repay. 

At least Steve came home to you. 

Even if it wasn’t the way, he promised to come home to you.  

You can’t help but glance to your left, Sam was standing there in his dress uniform, shoulders squared and face blank. If you didn’t know him so well, you would think he was simply another soldier paying respects to Captain Rogers. You knew his tells. That clenched jaw, the tightened fists, and the slow, deep breaths he took every few minutes as if he has scheduled them out. Sam’s hand startled you when it reached yours, his fingers threading with your own. He wasn’t supposed to do that, and as if he could read your mind, his shoulder shrugged, and the faintest smirk appeared. 

It was nice, but you couldn’t help but feel like something— someone was missing. 

“Why didn’t Bucky come?” 

You should be quiet, but your silence wouldn’t change who you were burying today or the fact that you were going home alone tonight and every night from here on out. Keeping quiet wouldn’t change that you will never get to kiss or hold your husband again. Everyone in attendance will go back home to their spouses tonight, they get to leave and breathe a sigh of relief because it wasn’t them. They will go home to hold their loved ones and whisper how they won’t ever leave them the way Steve left you and make promises for more because they still have a future where promises and more exist. 

So, if anyone had a problem with your whispers, they could go to hell. 

“He needed to stay with the rest of the unit,” Sam whispered, tightening his hold on your hand for some reason you weren’t sure of. You’ve already heard the worst. You doubt anything Sam said at this point could hurt you. “Someone had to stay behind, and he thought it would be better for guys and… for you.” 

Turned out you were wrong. 

You ignored the pinching in your chest and turned back to face the preacher, your concession to Sarah though it still felt a little off. Part of you had hoped Bucky would be there to help with everything, so when the plane landed a few days before, you had been surprised to see Sam had escorted Steve back home instead of Bucky. Not because they weren’t close or because Steve didn’t love Sam like a brother. He absolutely did, but it’s always been Steve and Bucky for as long as anyone could remember. You found it hard to believe Bucky wouldn’t put up a fight to be here for goodbye.

The casket flag was slowly pulled from atop the casket, and dizziness hit you. It was nearly over. You felt your eyes fall closed, and the voices around you faded away. Everything blurred. You didn’t want this. None of this was fair. You were supposed to have forever, and now you had nothing. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He promised. Steve promised, and he didn’t break promises! 

Especially ones made to you.

“Sam?” You whispered.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. They were on the 8th fold. Each fold took another piece of you, just another chip of whatever was left of the person you were. Whoever that girl was, the moment that flag was in your hands, you knew you would never be that girl again. 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You whimpered as a few tears began to fall. 

“I’ll go with you—” 

“No, I can’t do this… go on alone. Without him. I can’t—I just can’t.” 

“You’re not alone, Y/n. We are all here for you for as long as you need.” 

Everyone but Bucky.

A man you didn’t recognize, a nameless face approached you, thirteen folds between his hands, a tiny crooked hat made out of stars and stripes. Strange how something only a little bigger than your purse, could destroy the rest of your life. The man stood stoically and met your eyes as he repeated what you were sure was a well-rehearsed line he practiced many times. 

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

You wished it could do something to ease to the ache. They were hollow words that meant nothing. Through the haze that had fallen over you, taking away the sun and the clouds, you must have reached out with shaking hands because Sam stepped forward to help support the newly added weight, guiding it into your arms. You clutched the flag against your chest, holding on to all you had left of your husband. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed to whoever would listen, Please let me wake up now. Please, please let this be a nightmare.

No savior was coming; it wasn’t a dream, and Steve was never coming home. 

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