#my social recluse ass is not doing anything more than this

[idlingsomewhere]

call me a social creature the way i socialized with other people today

[stratiotis-nth]

Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.

He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.

At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.

Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.

Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.

His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.

For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.

“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”

“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”

“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”

No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.

“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.

Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.

“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.

Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.

It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.

This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.

Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.

“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.

“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.

“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel’s heart seized with terror.

“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“

“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”

And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.

People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.

It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.

The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.

Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.

“Whoa, Jesus!”

Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“

The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.

Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.

The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.

Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.

The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.

Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.

But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—

was Castiel himself.

He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.

It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.

He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.

“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.

He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.

“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.

“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.

“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.

“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.

“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?

“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”

“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—

“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.

“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.

What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?

“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.

“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“

“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.

He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.

“Sorry again, man.”

It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.

Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.

It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.

Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.

A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.

The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.

Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.

This could not be happening.

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[petitelepus]

heyy! may i please request a twst matchup if requests are still open? if not you can just ignore this lol

i’m super introverted, quite reclusive at first and not one to trust or open up to others so easily. my goofy ahh social anxiety isn’t the nicest so i get quite nervous when around tons of people. i also don’t talk much at first because anxiety and i spend way too much time inside my own mind. i do a complete 180 when talking online though or when i open up to someone. i’m generally a really sarcastic and blunt person so some of the things i say can come off mean when i don’t mean to (most of the time). i also make a lot of meme references and use a ton of internet slang even when speaking irl and it confuses some people it’s kind of funny bcs they’re like wtf are you saying? i can get a bit talkative when talking about my interests to fellow likeminded cultured people but it takes a lot of encouragement for me to get out of my shell. also i’m a super curious person and it’s bitten me in the ass a few times but idc because i enjoy learning new things… even if it means seeing the strangest internet shit just to understand a meme. i’m pretty ambitious which makes me way too critical towards myself and sometimes to others but it’s bcs i want all of us to succeed. also super studious — if i don’t get good grades i’ll cry and my parents will go ballistic

my hobbies include playing a bunch of video games (card games + board games too), reading, and drawing. i’ll be so invested doing smth (especially school work) i forget to eat/sleep/shower/live normally.

ok that’s it sorry if it’s a mess tysm for reading this and i hope you have a nice day!

I match you with Lilia Vanrouge!

Lilia is extremely carefree and very social so when he takes notice of you sulking by yourself, your mind obviously wandering somewhere in your head, he is drawn toward you. He may startle you with how open he is, but fear not, Lilia doesn't mean anything bad.

Your sarcastic and blunt comments on things amuse him greatly. He doesn't mind if you go and say something mean, mostly because he finds it funny instead of hurtful.

Lilia is older than he appears, but he is open to new things and experiences. He has learned some internet slang by playing games with Idia, but will happily learn more with you.

He admires your passion for things you care about and doesn't mind listening to you talk about them. The more excited you get the happier he gets.

Lilia loves your curiosity and oftentimes joins you when you want to try new things. New game? Count him in! A new dessert in Mostro Lounge? Let's go!

When you get as old as Lilia, you learn stuff. He doesn't mind tutoring you. When you come running to him with a bright smile on your face and a exam with perfect score in your hands, he feels happiness course through him. You're just so cute.

[mitsumerea]

Me in a nutshell: my otome journey, separating fantasy from reality, something about friendship and why I’m the real  Soryu Oh’s soulmate 

WARNING: Lots of gushing

I was raised as part of a generation that gets a lot of flack for being improperly socialized. In my case, I had very controlling parents who were happy to keep me occupied with my DS and computer, as long as I stayed home where they could see me. My phone, however, was not my own. My dad demanded to know my passcode as a way to look through it and make sure I wasn’t talking to any boys. He didn’t talk to me for 30 days when he found out about my very first boyfriend, I counted. He also flipped out when he saw my Mystic Messenger texts from Jumin, so that was a fun one to explain to him. I did have another boyfriend in junior-senior year of high school and I managed to get him to cooperate in hiding our relationship but I was actually in love with someone else the entire time, but that’s a story for another day. My dad would use the excuse that he needed to use my phone specifically to call even though he had a perfectly functioning one in his own pocket. When I did manage to sneak out, it was planned flawlessly. To this day my parents think I have a perfect record. But I was so paranoid that I would duck and hide whenever a car that vaguely resembled my parents would drive by. It’s kind of sad to think that all my friends and my ex didn’t ask anything about the way I behaved around them.

Double down on the fact that we’re Asian, they used emotionally abusive tactics on me and my siblings to do what they wanted like guilt us for wasting their money even though they threw it all on private school, constantly reminding us how good we have it even though they left their homeland and came to this country with absolutely nothing, cry that we were going to put them in a home when they were older, etc. But they were a lot harder on me than my brothers since I was their only daughter. And they didn’t just do it for our own safety; they, especially my mom, did it frame themselves as parents who got it right with one of their kids. She never liked my friends, so she never let me hang out over the weekends or have sleepovers with them because thought their parents were dirty and dumb. She wanted to teach me a lesson that family is more important than friends so I took it to a new extreme at the cost of basically drying out my need for social interaction, including my own extended family.

They were aware Ive been an anime connoisseur since middle school and were okay with it as long as it didn’t affect my studies. I wrote fics all the time but never published a single one, even to this day. In the latter half of high school, I started playing Pirates in Love and I mained THE HELL out of Eduardo back when his hair was slicked back. That’s where it all began. I on and off flings with my ex after I graduated high school in 2014. It was 2016 when we broke it off for good and I went to grad school in Southern California, the same year I officially started writing for KBTBB. If you’ve read this far, you should know I have a type, so OF COURSE I went for Soryu.

At this point in my life I was used to being by myself. For years. I was comfortable just not partying and keeping to myself. I wouldn’t even make friends online. That’s how reclusive I was. But all that time spent inside my own head resulted in me developing odd behaviors that are now biting me in the ass as I attempt to navigate this capitalist society as a full-time adult. Despite my interest in romance, I identified as falling in the ace spectrum, I still do, but I was leaning towards asexual. I had no interest in dating. I told my parents not to expect any grand children from me because my life goal was to be rich enough to own a cottage and live alone with many cats. This worries my mom who, all of a sudden, cared about my social life. In my head, her only hope was for Soryu Oh himself to exist in the flesh and reciprocate any interest in me.

Grad school was different, and our cohort in particular was very small. We only had 15 people and I was one of the youngest one in my batch. We were a mixed bag of folks. Some were already married, majority in serious relationships and half were engaged by the end of the program. There were only 3 of us who were single. Of the majority who were in committed relationships at the time, there was an tall, objectively handsome and dare I say muscular? (he played volleyball competitively before meeitng me) half-Cantonese man. He was the only other Asian in our class. I drew the comparisons right away and made sure not to delude myself into thinking he was anything like Soryu, but boy was I wrong. He actually reached out to me first and we hit it off right away. I learned he too loved to read any kind of novel (not just mystery but all kinds of genres), was put off by strong perfume, and was very fond of eggs. When I got to know him better, his mannerisms, views on life and upbringing (had step-siblings, grew up without a father) were almost exactly the same. He was like Soryu reincarnate minus being in the mafia. I thought I was batshit crazy.  Like God himself was trying to smite me. It was damning. I wish I’d created this blog sooner so you guys could’ve observed my reactions in real time, it was so wild. But at the end of the day, as screwed up my history was with forming meaningful relationships, I couldn’t approach him like I would straight out of these games. That was a goddamn person with his own plans going on, why would i matter to him? And I had to be especially careful because he was in a very complicated relationship. So I made sure not to overstep my boundaries.

Over time, it became increasingly clear to the only 4 girls in my class that we were close for being “just friends”. I learned later that the entire class eventually caught on and began playing a game of “will they, won’t they?” But as always, I kept it to myself and persuaded myself to be grateful that I even had friends. This guy became my best friend, and my mom was definitely wrong about how important it is to have friendships, because my biological family was definitely not there for me when I needed them most. And they knew I was serious when I spent our entire spring break visiting him in the ICU. He had an accident and was hospitalized for 10 days. I didn’t have his family’s contact info but I did everything I could to find out where he was. Like y’all don’t understand how big of a deal that was to my parents, because I’d never done anything like that before. Looking back, it was like giving a middle finger to all the conditioning my parents did to make me sit at  home and mind my own business. I was truly liberated from the hellscape they’d built for me. But me riding BART 2 hours there and 2 hours back just to see him like that was the second time my heart was broken (the first time was when my mom told me to “Be more human.”) I realized I was screwed after his mom thanked me for coming. She also must have thought I was absolutely deranged for waltzing in there, unannounced. 

Despite my sexual orientation, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sexually confused throughout the 2 and a half years of the program. Most of it was spent me convincing myself not to fall for him because not just because I saw a fictional character in him but because he was in a high-key emotionally abusive relationship. But the more I got to know him the more I realized I liked him for who he was way more than she ever would. But how he was going to settle it was all up to him. With my limited gaming knowledge, I was clearly no expert at romance. For all I knew, I could’ve been pining over nothing because I wasn’t even sure he liked me back! That was until things happened, we crossed a line at some point, statuses got really messy, and I was trying to tap out to save his rep. When he ended things with his ex, he confessed that he couldn’t imagine the rest of his life without me. It was like straight out of the game! I’m so sorry for gushing, but no one had ever told me something so cliche. And he didn’t seem like the type AT ALL. To this day it still puzzles me how someone like him is even remotely interested in someone like me. I even considered walking away to let us “become our own people” and “find ourselves” but we had already been doing that, so we got together!

Now he’s an integral part of my life. Because we met in the same field, we do work together. He still hasn’t read a single one of my pieces but still looking forward to the day I’m willing to share it with him. We moved out of state and even have a cat. I’m definitely not asexual as I initially thought but I do fall under the ace spectrum, now leaning towards demisexual. The me from a few years back wouldn’t believe my IRL romance would actually turn out as well as it did. I still play otome games (all from Voltage) and write fics except now I don’t have to hide that I do these things because he accepts my habits and hobbies completely. Aside from all KBTBB stories, and Eduardo, Nate and the Captain’s route in Pirates in Love, I’ve read the main stories for the main love interest of Scandal in the Spotlight, Our Private Homeroom and Romance MD. I’ve also read Hirose and Noel’s route in Seduced in the Sleepless City, Kaoru and Akiyoshi’s route in Our Two Bedroom Story, Shiki’s route in 10 Day with My Devil, Ken, Shion and Gaia’s route in A Knight’s Devotion, Joshua’s route in Be My Princess, and the Boss’ route in Masquerade Kiss. 

I also am up to date on most of Soryu’s stories and they make me really happy. But over the years, it’s literally become the other way around: I see my partner in Soryu now. With his Traitor’s Wedding March coming out soon, I can’t help but draw some comparisons to then and now. In my own life, we’re p set on holding off on marriage and we’re both focused on our careers so we’re on the fence about kids. But my mom wants it all right now so bad -_- But naaaaah, it’ll happen whenever it happens. I’m not scared about being too early or too late, because I’m not going anywhere and neither is he.

Soooo that about sums up why Soryu Oh as a character is so dear to me, friends are good to have, and not to treat people like otome game characters because they’re the whole package, faults and all

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Dinner

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Nicole Blake

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: The first date

A/N: Again, a special thanks to @thatghoulboi for helping out!!

“Which one looks better?” Nicole asked anxiously, her robe secured tightly on her as she stepped out of her bedroom. Entering the living room of the flat, she held out two dresses on hangers. One was a plain black dress with short sleeves and a skirt that would come down to her knees. The other was a dark green dress, longer than the black one, with a sleeveless sweetheart neckline.

“This is the third time you’ve shown me that dress,” Abby said, pulling her attention away from the script in front of her. She pointed at the green dress. “It’s like you want me to pick it because you’re afraid to do it yourself.”

“I’m not!” Nicole said, red faced and biting her lip. “You said you liked this one more than the blue one. I wanted to compare it to all the dresses I have. All five dresses.” She walked back to her bedroom and started to slip off her robe and change into the green dress. “I don’t know how some women do it. I can’t have more than five dresses. I mean, I never wear them unless I’m invited to something.”

“Dresses are nice,” Abby commented, her eyes drifting back to the script. She played with the ends of her curly hair as she did. “You know how much I like them.”

“I do.” Nicole replied. She groaned from her bedroom. “I think I might need to change to the purple dress. I might be so stressed I’m getting hives. The purple one has long sleeves.” She stepped out and back into the living room.

Abby shook her head and put the script on the coffee table before walking over to Nicole. She took her best friend’s hands in hers and squeezed them in encouragement. “Hey, you don’t need to stress. It’s one date. You only have to stress if he wants to see you again.”

“A, it’s not a date. It’s just dinner.” Nicole replied stubbornly. “And B, of course I’m going to stress! I haven’t been out with a guy since I went to college! That’s nearly a decade! It has been a decade!”

“You are going to do just fine,” Abby assured her, hugging Nicole. “And if he’s an ass just pour your drink on him.”

Nicole laughed. “I’m petty, not mean.” Abby shrugged and pulled away from the hug. Nicole took a few steps back and smoothed out the green dress. “How do I look?”

“Amazing,” Abby smiled at her. “Green really brings out your eyes.”

“Really?” A shy smile came over Nicole’s face at the comment.

“Yeah,” Abby nodded.

“Okay,” Nicole bounced on the balls of her feet as she mentally checked off everything she needed to do before she left. “And you’ll be here when I get back?”

Abby nodded, sitting back down on the couch. “Of course. I’ll be here to celebrate if it goes well, or console you if it goes awful. What time will you be coming back?”

“Probably not until eight? Maybe? I’ll text you if it’s later, don’t worry,” Nicole assured her, slipping on her black flats. She slipped her phone into her bra then unlocked the flat door and opened it.

“I thought you said the ‘dinner’ wasn’t until six?” Abby glanced down at the time on her phone. “It’s five-fifteen.”

“It takes fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and I cannot go through the horror of him being early and waiting for me.” Nicole explained quickly, slipping out the door. “Bye, love you, don’t forget to lock up on my way out!”

It was nearly 30 excruciating minutes as she waited outside the 5 star restaurant she didn’t even know existed until Mycroft suggested it for the dinner. She wasn’t sure when the pacing started, but it hasn’t stopped, neither have the curious looks people have given her as they entered and exited the restaurant. With every step of her pacing, a new thought entered her mind.

What if he doesn’t come? What if he stands you up? But what if he’s getting you flowers? No, of course he wouldn’t do that. What if he’s just running late. No, no one is ever just ‘running late’. It’s a bad sign. He’s probably changed his mind, who would blame him when it’s y–

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Mycroft said, approaching where Nicole was pacing. Her movement was halted at his words and she stood nervously as he approached.

Shaking her head, she answered. “No, it’s only been—” 30 whole minutes. She cleared her throat and took in his appearance. It was different from the black tuxedos he wore for the events, but not all too different. It was a nice suit. It was very nice. Nicole felt her cheeks grow warm and she tore her eyes away before she could speak. “You look very…” her mind went through the list of words she knew, not wanting to settle on just handsome as the adjective, “…dapper.” She said, before mentally kicking herself. “I meant nice, you look very… nice…” She stared at her feet for a moment.

He gave a smile, an amused one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you. You look lovely. Green compliments your eyes.”

Nicole couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. Removing her hand from her mouth she looked back at him. “I think we should go inside.”

Mycroft stepped over and opened the door. “After you.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled before walking into the restaurant.

The dinner had barely even started and Nicole was already dreading it. The wine menu had been given to them and she knew nothing about wine. She couldn’t even pronounce the names of them. She had no idea what the difference was between a wine from 2001 and a wine from 1998. She knew some things about wine, having done research for her novels. But she knew the wines for her books, not real life wines. She doesn’t even drink wine or alcohol. How did she get stuck in this situation? Oh right, she had a crush.

“Which one would you like?” Asked Mycroft. His voice pulled Nicole from her wasp nest of thoughts, and she snapped her head up to look at him.

“Huh?” She questioned, her fingers playing with the corner of the wine menu’s felt border. There was a loose string she had subconsciously been pulling at. Nicole shook her head a little, the question finally processing. “Oh no, I don’t drink.” The tone she said it in, at least to her, came out more rude than she had hoped, and she quickly backtracked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with drinking. It’s just not for me. That’s not to say you can’t have any wine, I was just… yeah.” Quickly hiding her face behind the menu, Nicole bit her lip. Was it too late to cancel? Considering she was sitting at the table with him, probably.

Her body went into autopilot for a moment as Mycroft got a bottle of wine she couldn’t even comprehend the name of, and the waiter left to fetch the wine. They were left with themselves and their menus. When she did come back to reality, Nicole hoped that she didn’t miss anything Mycroft said. But from the way his concentration was on the menu, she figured she was in the clear.

Her leg. Her leg was bouncing under the table, and she only hoped it wasn’t making too much noise, or that it was shaking the table. She’d hate for it to give away how bad her nerves were. But even with all her might Nicole couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing. Trying to pay attention to the menu, she debated whether she was going to get the spaghetti or salmon. It was so strong in her mind she didn’t realize she was muttering it under her breath.

“I assume you don’t do this much?” He questioned.

Nicole shook her head and swallowed thickly. She tore her eyes away from the menu and was immediately caught by his blue ones. Grabbing her glass of water, she took a sip. “I don’t, um, socialize very well.”

“It seems that most writers don’t,” he told her.

She laughed nervously, setting the glass down. “We’re recluses, what can I say?”

The waiter came over to take their order, momentarily interrupting and allowing Nicole a moment to regain her composure. Once he was gone, along with their menus, Mycroft’s attention was back on her.

“Why did you become a writer?” He asked.

“‘I write for the same reason I breathe—because if I didn’t, I would die’,” she quoted.

“Isaac Asimov,” Mycroft said.

Nicole nodded, picking at her nails under the table. Or trying not to. “I live by that quote. Well that and ‘a good writer writes with ink, a better writer writes with their blood’.”

She watched as his brows furrowed a bit. “Who said that?”

As she brought her glass up to take another sip, she smirked slightly. “I did.” Setting the glass down again, she continued. “But I became a writer because I like books. I like them so much I decided I wanted to make my own.”

The appetizers were served, and Nicole did her best to eat despite the butterflies in her stomach. Her leg was still shaking. She figured that wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. It didn’t matter; Mycroft didn’t seem to notice it yet.

“Tell me a little about yourself,” Nicole said, using the fork to play with her salad. “Like…” she bit her lip trying to think of something. “Do you have any siblings? What do you do for fun?”

“I have a younger brother, but we have a… complicated relationship,” he explained. “And I don’t have much time for fun.”

“Oh come on,” Nicole playfully rolled her eyes. “There has to be something you enjoy.”

There was a short pause before he replied. “I do enjoy old films.”

“How old?”

“Black and white.”

She hummed in response and stabbed the lettuce of her salad with the fork. “What’s your favorite color?” She asked without looking up.

“I’m sorry?”

“Colors.” She said. “What’s your favorite one?”

Mycroft blinked in surprise. No one’s ever asked him that before. “I… I would have to say a sort of… blue-gray color?”

Nicole looked up at him. “Like your eyes.”

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Conversation grew quiet aside from the occasional question Nicole asked him. Soon enough their finished appetizers had been taken, and even sooner their meals had been set before them.

“What about you?” Mycroft asked.

“Hm?” Nicole looked up at him after putting a bite of salmon in her mouth.

“Tell me about you,” he insisted.

She chewed the bite slowly before swallowing, shaking her head. “I’m so boring, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is!” She shook her head. “My biggest pride and joy—beside my books—is my pen collection. My idea of a fun weekend isn’t going out to eat or shop or go to a pub, it’s reorganizing the notebooks on my bookshelf or reorganizing my pens. I get excited about buying new Tupperware or soap.” She let out a halfhearted laugh. “Do you know anyone who gets excited about buying soap?”

“No one that comes to mind,” he told her.

“Exactly,” she said, cutting into her salmon. “I’m terribly boring.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Mycroft explained, a small smile on his lips.

Silence gripped the table for a bit, both focusing on their meals and where they wanted the conversation to go. Nicole really wasn’t used to this. She was used to already knowing the people she talked to, ones she shared meals with. It didn’t help that Mycroft was so hard to read. He didn’t even look nervous despite socializing obviously being something he doesn’t excel in as well. Somehow, it made him all the more endearing.

“Favorite color?”

“Huh?” Nicole looked at him confused. Had she misheard him?

He almost looked embarrassed, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. Regardless, Mycroft cleared his throat. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh.” Nicole’s leg continued to shake. “Blue. It’s blue.”

“Just ‘blue’?”

She shrugged. “I like every shade of it. Each shade reminds me of something different. The lighter shades, the ones almost passable for white, they remind me of ice. And the darker shades remind me of rain and storms. I just like the color, it’s very comforting–” She bit her tongue and laughed nervously. “And now I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope,” she answered simply and took another bite of her dinner.

Family is a sore subject, Mycroft noted.

“How long have you lived in England? Obviously you’re American so… why?” He asked her.

“Well I came here for college, but I always planned on staying. I’ve lived here for about ten years now. And honestly I prefer it here.” She told him.

“I’m glad you found a place here,” he said.

Dinner was finished, and before they knew it the evening was over. There was a short debate over who paid for dinner (Nicole insisted she should since she asked him out, but Mycroft argued he picked the restaurant and he should pay). After agreeing Nicole would pay this time, Mycroft took her hand and led her outside. Stepping out into the evening air, Nicole smiled at Mycroft. “I had a really nice time.”

“As did I,” he replied softly. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“Oh it’s okay,” she told him. “I’m just going to catch a taxi home–”

“I can take you,” Mycroft interrupted. “My car is not far.”

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Nicole started to say.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” he told her. He took her hand and guided her to the car before opening the door.

It was a short drive to the flat, and Mycroft walked her to the door once they arrived. Standing outside the threshold to the flat entrance, Nicole gave him a shy smile as he spoke.

“I enjoyed the date a lot, Nicole,” he told her.

She felt her whole face heat up at his words. He called it a date. “I did too. I’d love to do this again sometime.”

“Then tomorrow, seven in the evening,” he told her and brought her hand up to gently kiss her knuckles.

At this point she could’ve sworn her whole face was on fire. But a giggle escaped her at his actions, and she looked away. “O–okay. Tomorrow at seven it is.”

“I look forward to it,” he said before letting go of her hand.

Nicole watched as he got into the car and was driven off, and she smiled to herself. She took the spare key from its hiding spot under a rock and unlocked the door, rushing inside. As she slammed it shut behind her, she called out to her best friend and rushed up the stairs.

“Holy shit, Abby! You’ll never believe this!”

[jensengirl83]

Regret and Redemption Chapter 6

Dean x reader

Mechanic!Dean AU

Word Count-2476

Summary- Reader has left Dean and is trying to move on with her life. Can Dean prove himself and convince her to come back home?

Warnings-Angst, Heartbreak, Language

A/N- Song in this chapter is Careless Whisper by Seether. Lyrics will be in italics. Thank you to my beta @emoryhemsworth​​ and all my girls and guy for the encouragement to keep going with this series. I love you all!

Amazing series cover and text dividers courtesy of @talesmaniac89​ 

“Hey baby,” Dean answered the phone.

“Don’t call me that Dean, this isn’t a social call,” Y/N said with her voice monotone and void of any feeling.

“I’m sorry Y/N. What can I do for you then?” Dean asked as his heart sank.

“I don’t need you to do anything for me, Dean. I called to tell you something,” she said.

“What is it Y/N?” Dean asked as he held his breath.

“I want a divorce, Dean.” Y/N said with no emotion detectable in her voice.

“No! Baby please, don’t do this. I need you,” Dean said pleading with his wife.

“Dean, you obviously didn’t need me enough to be able to keep it in your pants. I can’t do it anymore. The longer we stay just separated, the more hope it will give you that we can fix this, and we can’t. I’m sorry Dean, but I filed this morning. You should have the papers soon. Goodbye Dean,” Y/N said as she hung up the phone.

Y/N sat with her head in her hands as the tears for the marriage she had lost spilled down her cheeks. Having seen him with Stacy was the proverbial straw that had finally broken her. Her heart was aching at the loss of the only man she had ever loved but she couldn’t ever trust him again. He had done too many things to forgive at that point. No matter how much she still loved her husband, she had to let him go. It was time for her to move on and leave him where he belonged, in her past.

Dean sat staring at his phone for a long time. Her words had destroyed him. He was losing his wife and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The fact that his marriage was over had begun to sink in and he had no one to blame but himself. He felt that his life was all but over now; the love of his life would never come back home to him. Dean threw his phone across the room with a guttural scream, the pain consuming him whole. He’d lost the only person to ever break down the walls he had built, the woman who he would forever love and never have again.  

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to Dean. He had received the divorce papers and that had ruined him. She had asked for nothing: not the house, her part of the garages, not a thing. She stated that all she wanted was the money she’d made from her books and he could have the rest. She said that she didn’t want anything that had been a part of their time together. Dean had looked at the divorce papers at least a hundred times and it had hurt him no less than the first time he had read them. She was done with their marriage and with him.

Dean became a recluse, going to work and locking himself in his office and then back home. He quit talking to his family and friends, never leaving his house except when he had to. Dean didn’t even go to work if he didn’t have to. The will it took not to cry the whole time he was there started to fade. The memory of her was everywhere at work and he couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t for the employees he had, Dean would lock the doors and never return. He knew the next months would not be any easier. The rest of his miserable life would be a living hell as long as he didn’t have Y/N.

The weeks following her decision to file for divorce were a little easier for Y/N, but not by much. She hid away in her apartment, continuing to work on her novel. Her heart was broken at the end of her marriage, but she decided to move on and try to live her life the best she could. She hadn’t gotten to the living part yet, but she was trying to get there. She had not heard from Dean since the day she had told him she wanted a divorce. She hoped that he had finally gotten the point and was moving on. She secretly hated the thought of him moving on; the idea broke her heart in fact, but she knew she couldn’t forgive him for his betrayal. That one thing is what had ended their marriage, her lack of being able to forgive and trust him again.

Y/N sat in her guest room that she had made an office staring at her computer screen. Some days were easier than others when it came to writing her book, but today was not one of the easier ones. Dean had been on her mind since she woke up that morning and it pissed her off to no end. Here she was, in her own apartment trying to move on, and he still had a hold on her. That thought made her think to call her uncle. She hadn’t spoken to him about the divorce proceedings since she filed.

“Turner Law offices, how may I help you?” Diane answered the phone.

“It’s Y/N. How are you Diane?” she asked her uncle’s secretary. She’d worked there since Y/N was a child.

“Y/N! I’m good, sweetheart. How are you holding up?” she asked her with sincerity.

“I’m hanging in there. Is Uncle Johnnie busy?” Y/N asked.

“He’s on the phone, but I’ll tell him you are on the line. Hold on just a minute sweetie,” Diane said as she put her on hold. Y/N was glad that her uncle was handling her divorce. It made it easier that family was taking care of it instead of a stranger who could give a damn.

“Y/N! How’s my favorite niece?” her uncle asked with a laugh.

“Sure, Uncle Johnnie! You do remember I’m just one out of how many? I bet you say that to all of us,” Y/N said with a laugh.

“I do but that’s because you’re all my favorites!” he said laughing at her.

“That’s a lot more accurate,” she laughed. “I called to ask how everything is going with my divorce.”

“Well Y/N, Dean hasn’t signed the papers yet. I contacted his lawyer to tell them that he needed to get them signed,” her uncle said with a sigh.

“I should’ve known. Thanks, Uncle Johnnie. I’ll call Sam and see what he can do to get Dean to sign them and get this over with,” Y/N said as she ran her hand down her face. Of course, he hadn’t signed them yet.

“You don’t need to call his brother Y/N. I know you want to cut ties and that will just make it harder honey,” Johnnie said softly.

“It’s ok, I actually like Sam,” Y/N chuckled. “I really don’t mind talking to him.”

“That’s up to you sweetie. Hopefully, that little shit will sign the damn papers soon,” he said with a groan.

“Uncle Johnnie…” Y/N groaned.

“I’m sorry honey. He’s lucky I haven’t sent one of your cousins on his ass,” Johnnie said with a laugh, but Y/N knew he wasn’t joking.

“It’s fine, honestly! I’m a big girl and I can handle this without bloodshed,” she laughed.

“Ok sweetheart. I love you and I’ll let you know as soon as he signs, ok?” He said with a smile.

“I love you too Uncle Johnnie! Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome darlin’. Bye Y/N,” he said as he hung up the phone.

Darlin’. That name had brought tears to her eyes. Dean had called her that many times in the years they had been together. There were so many things that she was going to have to move past now that he wasn’t a part of her life anymore. She shook the thoughts from her mind as she went back to her laptop. She opened up her Spotify playlist and hit shuffle. Music had always helped her to focus. The song that started to play had her staring at the screen with tears in her eyes.

I feel so unsure

As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

As the music dies

Something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all of the sad goodbyes

This song had always been one of her favorites but now it hit home. The lyrics made her chest feel tight, and her breath came in pants as she thought of her soon to be ex-husband.

 I'm never going to dance again

These guilty feet have got no rhythm

Though it's easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool

I should have known better than to cheat a friend

A wasted chance that I've been given

So I'm never going to dance again

The way I danced with you

The tears were now staining her cheeks as her mind replayed that day that she had seen the hickey on Dean’s neck, the mark that had concreted her fears and worst nightmare, the proof that the man she loved had betrayed her.

Tonight, the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

Maybe it's better this way

We've hurt each other with the things we want to say

We could have been so good together

We could have lived this dance forever

Now who's going to dance with me

Y/N laid her head down on her desk and let out the tears, grief, and pain that had been bottled up for the last few months. She finally let herself grieve for the marriage she still wanted, the man she still loved. That was what hurt the most: she still wanted him, but she knew that it wasn’t a possibility. He had hurt her beyond repair this time. No matter how much she still loved him, she would never be able to move past his betrayal.

Dean sat on his couch where he spent most of his time now. He had even been sleeping downstairs since Y/N had told him she wanted a divorce. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in their room without her anymore, the memories of the love they had shared in that room was too much for him. Dean looked a mess, not having shaved in weeks. He only showered because he had to at this point. His evenings had consisted of staring at the walls and looking through old photos of him and Y/N. He knew that wouldn’t help him move on, but that was the point, he didn’t want to. He wanted his wife back in his arms and in their home.

Dean stared at their wedding photo for what seemed like hours. The way Y/N was smiling took his breath away. He had always thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but that day she had been breathtakingly beautiful. Her Y/H/C hair was swept up with just a few pieces down to frame her face. Her Y/E/C shined as he had never seen them before. She had been truly happy that day, and so had he. The two of them had been so excited to start their journey together as husband and wife. Dean felt the tears that had escaped roll down his cheeks as he thought of what he had ruined. A knock at the door had him wiping away the tears as he made his way to see who the hell was bothering him.

“You look like shit, dude!” Sam said as Dean opened the door.

“Happy to see you too Sammy,” Dean said as he rolled his eyes.

“What the hell have you been doing man? I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks!” Sam exclaimed as Dean turned his back on him and walked back to the couch.

“Oh, you know, having the time of my fucking life Sammy! What do you think I have been doing?! I’m missing my wife and grieving my failed fucking marriage!” Dean yelled as he threw his hands in the air.

“I get it dude, but don’t yell at me! I didn’t tell you to go screw those whores!” Sam yelled and regretted it instantly. “I’m sorry Dean, I really am, but don’t take it out on me man.”

“Fuck you, Sam! You don’t think I regret what I did?! I have never regretted something more in my life!” Dean growled as he collapsed back to the couch.

Sam didn’t say a word as he sat down beside his brother. He regretted what he had said, but the stress of what he had dealt with that day had gotten the best of him. He laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder and let him cry it out, just being there for his brother until he was ready to speak.

“I’m sorry Sammy. I just don’t know how much more I can take, man. I want Y/N to come home and I know that she never will,” Dean said with a sigh.

“It’s ok man, I get it. I’m really sorry you’re going through this,” Sam said as he patted Dean on the back.

“What brings you over here Sammy? You need something?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, Y/N’s uncle called me today. He wants the divorce papers back and signed,” he said as he watched his brother.

“I don’t want to sign them, Sam. That means it’s really over,” Dean whispered as he glanced at the divorce papers sitting on his coffee table.

“This is going to sound rude, but it’s over whether you sign the papers or not Dean,” Sam said as gently as he could, not wanting to rub salt in the open wound. “Besides, you have a more important problem you need to deal with now. That’s the main reason I came over here today.”

“What the hell’s going on now?! I have enough to deal with Sammy!” Dean said exasperated.

“Well, just sign the divorce papers and get it over with. You’ll be going to court over something else soon,” Sam said with dread. He didn’t want to have to tell Dean, but he had no other choice.

“What are you talking about Sam? Just spit it out already,” Dean said as he prepared himself for whatever shit show was coming now.

“Stacy’s filed a lawsuit against you for sexual harassment Dean,” Sam said. “She’s also suing for wrongful termination. This could cost you a lot of money.”

“That’s fucking great!” Dean yelled sarcastically. If he had even a shred of a chance to convince Y/N to come home, it would be gone as soon as she heard about this.

[sarenhale]

Out of curiosity, do you have any ships for the Silver Snakes? If you do, could you name them and elaborate on why you like them? I love your art style btw it just looks so smooth to me!

I do, IN FACT!!!! I wonder if you mean couples within the silver snakes only (oc x oc) or with fe3h canon characters as well? Well, I’ll write about both and the ideas I have here... brace yourself, It’s gonna be a long ask cause you unleashed my love for couples....

Nicolai and Leon is one of my faves, basically brother in arms that become closer as time passes. Nicolai can’t socialize and deal with people for shit so having someone like Leon that has a very sunny and patient personality around is very comforting. Plus Leon has a lot of energy and will to live, and with time manages to... uh... maybe influence Nicolai with it a little? Or, at least, grab his skinny ass when he’s about to sacrifice himself in battle AGAIN and save him. Nicolai has an ardent desire to die and Leon is just not gonna let him, you know? When war starts Leon promises him he’ll bring him to his village in Dagda to meet his family.... and then when war is over they move there and fuck off forever, living in peace for the rest of their days. Nicolai finally has the opportunity to be who he wants and not have to pass down his crest or being haunted by his family legacy anymore.

Nicolai and Kristjan, they’re both very quiet and not exactly socially adapt, but that’s kind of what they enjoy from eachother, the possibility to just enjoy eachother’s presence without pressure or having to talk/break the silence. Incredibly enough, I think that when confronted with another shy person, Nicolai would be the one to step up and be more protective and supportive. I think that this relationship would bring out the protective / chivalrous side in him..... yeah....... I don’t know I just imagine how quiet, peaceful and swee those times would be 

Nicolai and Bernadetta, reject humanity, return to being social recluse... I feel like they have similar personalities and kinda vibe together well, after of course the trials and tribulations of Bernie trying to escape everytime she sees him because she thinks Nicolai is the spectre of death that was sent to kill her or something. But that just adds to the fun part of it and ridicolousness of the couple edhjfcghjdgfh. Plus Nicolai likes reading edgy poetry and novels so he would be really supportive of Bernie’s books. 

Nicolai and Sylvain... hee hoo you know me, I do enjoy a sprinkle of Sylvain content here and there... basically Sylvain is the only one from Blue Lions that doesn’t hate him after they discovered the Haandrastsz family had a part into killing Dimitri’s father. The Haandrastsz family terriroties were also near the Gautier's, so they knew eachother when they were little. (I cannot escape the childhood friends trope I am sorry) After the war, before rejoining with the other Silver Snakes, Nicolai retires to Sreng (where him and his uncle were exiled to by the Kingdom) and stays there, commanding a small army and gaining the trust/leadership of the local warlords. One time he leads an attack on Gautier territory and Sylvain is like ‘Oh hey Nico- HEY WHAT THE FUCK’  And I don’t know... I just think it’s kinda funny... Also Sylvain is the only one in Blue Lions from the original group of childhood friends that doesn’t really... judge people for who they are, you know (that’s why I love him), so it feels realistic that he wouldn’t think less of Nicolai for what his family did. Knowing the guy, he would probably try to find a peaceful solution to the situation, and even if Nicolai usually doesn’t give a shit about people, he would be like “Yeah okay I GUESS I can try talking to Sylvain instead of just brutally murdering him”. So yeah, the sheer contrast between personalities, and the similar trauma from crests/ families... I just think it makes for a cool combo.

Cassandra and Esther, another one of my fave couples, Esther grew up in poverty in the Empire’s capital and hating nobles for the huge power imbalance in Fòdlan, so seeing Cassandra’s objective to completion is one of the most important things in her life. Despite the big differences in their upbringing, they discovered that they shared a lot of things in common, and felt very comfortable and safe in the company of the other. Cassandra always felt like an outcast even between her family, so she finds Esther’s point of view on life very important and close to her heart. Cassandra loves how much of a free spirit she is, and wants to eventually be free and feel like she’s allowed to be herself, two things she can really experience when she’s with her. Esther’s story is part of why Cassandra feels like she needs to succeed and bring a change to Fòdlan, and made a promise to her that if she ever loses sight of her original dream and becomes yet another swayed ruler, Esther has to kill her  👀  Also, that good old “ruler and their right hand” kind of ship... you know? 

Cassandra and Mithra, another good ruler and their right hand ship... Mithra has trust in Cassandra as a leader and person, and is willing to do anything to help her achieve her dream! I think Mithra is a very silent person that doesn’t share her feelings and emotion easily because she’s always on high guard, expecting an attack from every direction, and focused on her duty almost too much to allow herself to be human and not only a soldier. That why it’s really cute when i think about how she would open up and eventually fall in love... YEAH

Cassandra and Sayid, this is a bit of a ‘what if’ kind of ship because Cassandra is gay, so I see this couple as more of a “platonic soulmates” kind of situation. Sayid and Cassandra’s relationship is one of my favourites because it starts from childhood friends, then changes to rivals, to frenemies, and then grows to trusted friends who will never be able to leave eachother. Cassandra was promised to marry one of Sayid’s older brothers when she was little, so he often jokes about how Sayid lost to his brothers even to that. (”Yes, but I was the one that had the honor to be right next to you” he would probably reply) They are eachother’s most trusted person, and Sayid grows from wanting Cassandra’s spot as leader and thinking she is inadequate to the role to being her most trusted advisor, that wholeheartedly supports her. It’s mostly the growth of the relationship that does it for me.

Mithra and Dedue...OKAY No joke I made Mithra Duscurian also because so Dedue could have a friend from the same country... so they can share Duscur stories and culture. Mithra left Duscur when she was little so she feels like she’s missing a part of her culture, and I just feel like her supports and relationship with him would be an amazing opportunity to both expand more on Duscurian culture and allow both to enjoy their home country and bond over it! And then maybe at the end of the war they can move back to what’s left of Duscur and start to rebuild together. 

Mithra and Felix, this is a bit of weird one, especially because of Felix’s shitty views on Duscur, but I’m mostly looking at the promise for a good character development and how cool an idea of a ‘warrior couple’ is. They start off as sparring partner, Mithra shares Felix’s dedication for battle and training, so they often find eachother at the training grounds until they start to train together. They develop a kind of friendly rivalry over wanting to beat the other, and being the two strongest students at the monastery. Felix gets his ass handed to him a couple of times, and his mental process is ‘holy shit how > fuck you > groagrhaprfgakdfgh > okay but she’s strong, I can learn from her if i continue to fight her’ to eventually respecting her skill and position. Mithra recognizes his strenght and unparalleled ability on the battlefield, but comments on his lack of teamwork and how fighting alone and not following orders is going to get him killed someday. (Being that she’s lived her life in the military, diligence is a very important value- and a way of life to her) Their rivalry/competition translates to keeping the other safe in battle (”you’re not allowed to die before I beat you” kind of deal) and eventually... uh... wow... emotions???

Sayid and Ferdinand, dhsgchdgsh To be honest this is boys being fancy and bisexual... They do share some values and morals, Ferdinand’s view on nobility are akin to Sayid’s, even though Sayid is a bit more like ‘earning what you and your family have’ rather than simply inheriting a role. I do like that they mirror eachother by being a leader’s right hand man, and growing their rivalry into a frienship with them, so I feel like they’d have that in common, and some interesting conversations could spark from that! Plus yeah have I mentioned fancy bisexual boys...

Leon and Hilda, okay this one too is like... nothing too deep stort wise, I just feel that they’d be such a cute good couple?? Mostly because of how they both have sunny personalities and how Leon would indulge Hilda and protect her... and they also give me some big domestic vibes?

Esther and Annette is just... listen... I don’t know exactly why I can see the two of them so well together, I just think their personalities would align really well and would lead up to some really cute support conversations and eventually relationship...

Kristjan and Linhardt is an interesting couple because while I think they have similar interests on magic/ crest studies, they have very opposite personalities. I like that Lin is very blunt and unapologetic about his interests and peculiar way of life, while Kristjan feels like even his presence is a bother and something he needs to apologize about. I think they could bond over their shared interests (you know Lin wouldn’t resist to analyze the peculiar crest situation Kristjan has going on) but also count as interesting opposites to eachother. Lin would definitely be a positive influence over how insecure Kristjan is, and have a role in him accepting himself. Also.... cute nerdy boyfriends who love to read and study together??? Yeah...

Kristjan and Lysithea another cute couple, but this time based on how interesting it would be to see them interact and talk about their similar stories with crest experiments. I feel like they would both benefit from being able to talk honestly about the trauma and experience of it all. And I also like that two individuals that feel like their life is not in their hands anymore- CAN grow and create their own life together.

Kristjan and Olympia is... one of the first couples I thought about back when I created the silver snakes! I really like how they’re polar opposites (again) and how well they mesh together. One of the consequences of the experiments done on Kristjan is that he can channel the power of his crest stone to enhance his abilities, and eventually, also to get really physically strong for a short moment of time. I imagined that it would be really cool and unexpected if the one person that managed to beat Olympia in a duel is in fact not even someone who’s an expert with physical combat! Olympia  is a very romantic and affectionate person, and I just really like the idea of Kristjan being showered with the love he deserves. (Plus I love the ship dynamic of mage/studious male character with strong/warrior female character a lot AHAH)

Olympia and Lorenz are... there to be fancy, cute and gorgeous together?? Despite some parts of his ideologies (that luckily he works and grows on), Lorenz’s ‘romantic’ idea of chivalry is very fascinating at the eyes of Olympia, and he kind of represents the idea of the ‘knight in shining (purple with roses) armor’ that she always looked for! They also both love fashion, art, drinking tea and little things like that... and I, AGAIN, love the idea of a couple where the woman is the strongest in the relationship dhgchjdsgcdsh There’s something really cute and powerful about her living her romantic fantasy with someone.

Olympia and Dorothea... JUST GALS BEING PALS... or not. They’re bisexuals together. I think they’d start to bond over Olympia’s idea of romance and research for someone that could beat her in a duel/ win her heart, and eventually really come close due to their experiences in dating/ finding out what they really want from love and relationship. And then they find that together!!!

I think you could sum up the types of couples I like with ‘similar personalities’ and ‘complete opposites’ AHAHAH It’s something that intrigues me with people in real life too! I discovered I tend to feel as fascinated by people that are similar to me, as much as people who are really different from me. This was a LOOONG response, but I loved to think about these couples and write down their dynamics! I hope you’re ready for a very detailed and long response! Thanks again for the compliments on my art and for asking about my babies <3

[pctrichvrs]

              * emma mackey, cis woman + she/her  | you know celeste laurent, right? they’re twenty four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, seven years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cry baby by the neighbourhood like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole watching the phone ring to avoid picking up, unintentionally locking eyes from across the room and dark circles further accented by pale skin thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 9th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. 

mun.

  wow ..,. hello ! i’m jay ( she&her ) and i’ve been eyeing this group for days .. *nicki minaj vc* i’m obsessed . celeste is my only muse but give me 2 business days and i’m sure that’ll be vastly different . i feel like i should give the disclaimer that although i adore plotting, i’m super slow with messages so feel free to just ..,. let my oddball child interact and go with the flow . < 3 

quick stats.

full name: celeste rosalie laurent.

sexuality: bisexual.

occupation: youtuber/podcaster.

neighborhood: lives in port apartments.

mbti personality: intj.

about.

celeste was born and raised in lyon, france . her mother was an art curator and her father was an architect. they passed along their desire to be surrounded by pretty things which resulted in celeste dabbling in nearly every art form imaginable from a young age . 

sure, some of her work turned out better than others but it was clear that she had a real knack for anything that didn’t really require the left side of her brain. if it involved creativity and didn’t have much structure, she was drawn to it and excelled. she was fourteen when she ended up making her first short film. sixteen when she earned a spot at cannes film festival, sparking quite a bit of buzz and earning funding to a school of her choosing . 

celeste knew she wanted to go to america and it helped that she had a few cousins in north carolina . she went to UNC school of the arts for two semesters before throwing her scholarship away . . . her distaste for structure getting in the way . she’s also pretty fickle so when that chapter closed, she decided to give up short films and put her energy into youtube . 

her channel was an absolute clusterf*ck at first but she made a ridiculous conspiracy theory video and it just kind of stuck. i’d consider most of her channel to be similar to buzzfeed unsolved ( conspiracies, ghosts, etc ) with like a sprinkle of ridiculous challenge videos and maybe the occasional cooking/painting video ?? if you’re her friend, you’ve probably made a cameo in a video at some point .

if it wasn’t obvious enough, celeste’s biggest flaws are her need for freedom and her fickle tendencies which affects nearly everything in her life . everything is very sporadic for her with very little consistency . she’ll go weeks without working on anything and then have a deadline and have to finish it in 2 days . romantic relationships are very hard for her because by the time you’ve gotten comfortable with her, she’s probably moved on a bit . friendships are admittedly a bit easier but she’s definitely not a friend you’d expect to be present a lot ?? phone is always on do not disturb and she takes hours to text back . if you want her, you’d probably have better luck just showing up on her doorstep .

kind of spacey too like even if you show up, good luck getting her undivided attention . she’ll be there physically but mentally ?? who knows, really . the type to occasionally cut you off mid-convo with a question that just popped into her head that’s unrelated to the original topic .

overall though, not too hard to get along with if you give her some room to breathe and have some patience . celeste despises confrontation and does her best to stay pretty lowkey . i feel like she’s kind of drawn to people that stand out and are unique in one way or another and LOVES to hear people tell their story or talk about themselves . she hates being the center of attention ( she used to love it when she was making films ) and is nearly a bit reclusive at times but doesn’t even realized she’s been tucked away in her apartment until someone points it out .

basically the human embodiment of Gifted Kid Burn Out(TM) . #relatable

tldr ; a youtuber ( think buzzfeed unsolved ) originally from france who was once incredibly gifted in film . flighty, fickle and spacey but has a genuine curiosity for everyone she meets .

headcanons.

still has a french accent but it’s not nearly as prominent as it was when she first moved to the states . 

has a super odd sleep schedule ? sometimes she’s pulling all nighters and sometimes she’s in bed by 9pm. it usually depends on the amount of work she has to do but sometimes she’s just like fuck it, let me binge this show or start this book at midnight . 

a “look at the sky!” ass bitch ..,. loves to stargazing or take a minute to appreciate a pretty sunset. yes, she will be pulling out her phone to document it . 

her youtube is pretty successful with about 400k subs ..,. although she’s started branching out into making podcasts and neglecting youtube a bit . 

still a bit of an aesthete ? like very drawn to pretty things/people which may make her seem kind of superficial but she literally just has such a deep appreciation for things that are appealing to the senses . 

i’ll add more later but it’s 1am and i’m getting sleepy .

wanted connections.

roommates ; arguably some of my fave plots are roommate plots ! bonus points if they don’t get along for some reason but anything is fine with me .

will they/wont they ; another dynamic that i’m a sucker for ! doesn’t have to lead anywhere like maybe they just have ridiculous chemistry when they’re around each other ? maybe they’ll go on a date and try it out at some point ? 

long-term friend(s) ; someone who she’s been friends with since she was 17 ? i don’t think celeste’s social circle is very big so they probably mean a lot to her .. ride or dies .. best friends .. platonic soulmate vibes . yes pls .

exes ; i don’t think she’d have many but maybe one or two ? could be on good terms, bad terms, one/both of them still aren’t over it ..,. the options are endless .

Parent Friend(TM) ; someone who checks in on her to make sure she’s eaten a proper meal and has slept fairly recently would be super cute, i think ! she’s the type to drink iced coffee at noon and be like : ) thank u . i’m stuffed and then neglect doing self care .

i do not have a cute name for this but basically the exact opposite of the parent friend(TM) and someone who makes celeste go out and have fun bc she’s a tad reclusive ...,. drags her to parties / on roadtrips / other spontaneous shit . 

enemies / frenemies / former friends ; always fun . always a good time !

literally anything like u can send me a musing post and be like ‘do this with me’ and i will probably do it 

[aidemint]

𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐔𝐛𝐮𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢

Word Count: 1781

Warnings: Mentions of smoking

__

I told myself I would stop smoking, for the sake of my own sanity. I'd already thrown out all the nicotine I had and invested the money in books. Judging by how many novels I'd bought with the new budget, it was a good decision. A step in the right direction, considering that I was a writer.

Sighing as I organized the pile of books on the floor, stacking them so they fit perfectly into my bookshelf, I grumbled as I fought the urge to go out and suck on my pipe. Maybe there were leftovers still stuck in there. Once I realized my thought process, I shouted and hurriedly stuffed the novels into their place and fumed. Stomping out the door, I wanted to do something to stop this toxic cycle.

I should do something different. There has to be something to do.

Maybe my horrible life was a byproduct of all the shitty decisions I made so far. My publishing company didn't fail me, at least. I couldn't say that my career was a total flop, and I had a consistent paycheck, but I just felt so damn sad and lonely all the time. Sure, I was whining, but it wasn't for no good reason.

Plus, it wasn't like I hated every single thing on the planet Earth, I was just in a rut. Motivation was fleeting and I didn't have enough energy to chase after it. Not without an excuse, at least. I spent my days tirelessly writing and working my ass off for deadlines. To think I once enjoyed writing -- that was a long time ago, when I was a child. I'd daydream for hours, weaving fantasies in my head like I was on mushrooms.

How I wished to get a glimpse of the old days, to feel what I felt way back when I wasn't like this. I was so sure I was going to die alone and miserable, since I broke all the old connections I had when I started my career. It wasn't part of the contract or anything, I just felt that if I were to be mature, then I should sever off my childhood -- drop it like a lizard to its cut-off tail.

My jaw clenched as I spotted my pipe on the ground. I picked it up, squinting in distaste, debating about whether I should or shouldn't go to the market to get another good smoke in. I could drown out my worries that way.

Scoffing at myself, I took the fragile wooden tube and broke it in half, tossing it into the bushes.

How stupid.

__

Two days later, I was still in that same mood. But instead of twiddling my thumbs and lounging around like some lazy pig, I tried to pick up a new hobby while still reminiscing at the old days.

Ah, to be young.

I sounded like some old geezer.

But I kept thinking.

I miss everyone.

__

A week passed and I could safely say I was in a better mood. My cravings weren't as bad, and I tended to chew on mint leaves rather than suck on that damn wooden pipe.

Maybe for this reason, the universe decided to gift me a surprise.

The invitation arrived by crow. I was outside, doing some garden work when that black bird flew in front of me, its beady eyes analyzing every single one of my features. For a moment, it seemed hesitant to come near, but the creature eventually hopped its way to my feet and dropped a note by them.

I could have imagined it, but it seemed as if the crow gave me a slight bow before flapping it great wings and flying away. Eyeing the rolled-up parchment carefully, I picked it up and unraveled it, curious to see what message was displayed inside.

(Y/N),

I hope this letter finds its way to you without interruption. It's been a long time since we've last spoken, so before we get to the technicalities, I'd like to know: how are you? Hopefully you're in a prosperous position, one of good wealth and balance. I remember you always went on about becoming a renowned poet, and I think you're quite close to achieving that dream. Just yesterday I bought one of your books, and the limericks and clever haikus are quite entertaining.

Anyways, the real reason I wrote to you so late in our relationship is that I've been meaning to see you again. The last time we met, if I recall it correctly, was ten years ago -- far too long of a time for friends to be separated, no?

During these years, I imagine that a lot has changed. You're out and about, pursuing your dream and accomplishing your wildest dreams. It's admirable, to say the least. Though my disability hinders the possibility of me becoming a sumo wrestler, I am doing better than expected (even though I live with that disappointment).

I've just realized, in the middle of my jest, the topic has suddenly shifted to me. It's unpleasant, seeing how little control I have over my words. Please accept my apology, (Y/N), as I don't expect you to become suddenly infatuated with my life, nor does the meeting represent a discussion about the current events happening in my little "circle."

I just truly want to catch up with you. One of my greatest wishes is to see you again after all these years. I've missed our kinship.

So please, I implore you to come. There will be a guide outside of your house an hour after this crow is delivered. Please do not be frightened by the methods taken to bring you to my estate -- I'm sure you understand based on our previous history together.

I'm looking forwards to our potential reunion.

- Kagaya Ubuyashiki

My teeth tugged at my bottom lip as I closed the scroll, feeling tears well up in my eyes. With a tidal wave of memories flooding back into my mind, I couldn't help but want to cry. Kagaya was one of the people that made my childhood worthwhile. I'd met him when I was eight, while he was nine. We spent our free time together, however small the amount was.

Despite being so young, we were always busy. I took advanced courses at home, tutored by poets and writers from across the community. My parents did all they could to help me on my way to success, which I was grateful for. I never knew what Kagaya did, as he always kept it a secret, but I appreciated him nonetheless. He seemed so mature, even at age nine.

The way he thought was like a philosopher. Whenever I showed him my work, he'd bring about inquiries that would dumbfound even the greatest of my masters. I wondered how he did it and always wanted to be like him -- diligent, thoughtful, understanding.

Even now as an adult, he never fails to blow me away with his humility.

Sighing once more as I swept the stray tears off of my face, I pocketed the scroll and continued to do my garden work until the guide came. I was just about done when a masked figure strolled up to my home and asked me if I was (Y/N) (L/N). In response, I nodded and exchanged greetings before hopping onto their back and being blindfolded by the figure.

"I hope Master already told you about the procedure," they muttered awkwardly, "It's to prevent information from leaking." I laughed lightly and waved the thought away. Too excited to see my old friend again, the commentary bounced off me like rain to an umbrella.

"It's a smart idea." With that, the guide hauled me onto their back and took off running along their designated path.

__

Once I could finally see again, I blinked for a couple moments to let my eyes adjust to the blinding light. Though my vision was blurry and I couldn't quite make out the scene in front of me, I sensed multiple presences waiting for me at the entrance to the estate. When I'd finally cleared all the fog out of my head, I felt myself instinctively draw in a small gasp.

There Kagaya was, standing in the middle of a group of colorful figures. He wore a small and docile smile, gently waving at me from a distance. I quickly thanked the guide as I slid off of their back and made my way over to him. The ravenette regarded me with a kind look, and spread his arms as a welcoming gesture.

All the world's noise seemed to come upon deaf ears the closer I got to him.

Though his lips moved and the trees rustled, all I could hear was the sound of my own heart beating, thrumming through my eardrums. The sound of the flowing of blood in my veins became more prominent as I got increasingly star-struck.

Was this reality? Or just another twisted dream that came back to haunt me?

I wanted to believe that it was real. I desperately prayed, in that moment, that this was real. Maybe in a few seconds I would wake up, breathing heavily, covered in sweat in my futon on the ground. Then I'd squeeze my eyes shut again, crying for the sweet dream to come back to me. But as my staggers became steadier, and those steady strides quickened, I had a newfound energy to hope.

To believe that my life wasn't so hopelessly lost.

When the tips of my fingers reached my friend's kimono, my heart blossomed. The silk seemed to greet my touch like they already knew each other, despite the sensation being so foreign. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I wanted to collapse onto the ground and sob until my eyes fell out of their sockets.

To think that the connections hadn't been severed, but rather weakened, was the greatest relief I'd ever experienced. It spurred me to think that maybe I could reconnect with the outside world rather than keep to myself all the time.

The possibility of not being alone and feeling a socially ambiguous made my insides tingle with excitement -- with childish wonder. There was someone who still cared for me, who still waited for me all these years, who was kind enough to reach out and contact me, the recluse, the hermit.

When I fell into his arms, breathless, I closed my eyes and finally smiled.

I could smile again.

And be thankful.

And finally feel like I was somebody.

I couldn't have asked for anything more.

[threeletterslife]

09 | Illegirl

→ previous | next 

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, jimin being a fucking idiot, jin being scary as fuck

→ wordcount: 3.2k

You feel like you're seven again, being reprimanded by your unforgiving parents in the dreaded living room. Tension so thick, it could cut through goddamn Mt. Everest, itself. You'd be lying to yourself if you weren't scared. You're fucking terrified.

Pure trepidation haunts you, sits heavily on both shoulders, making your body go numb and thoughts freeze.

Especially when Jin's forced you and Jimin to sit on your knees on the wooden floor as he remains on the couch looking down at you. It's intimidating as fuck, and you fight off the urge to huddle against your boyfriend's protective chest.

"How long have you been doing... this?" Jin finally asks, his voice cold and serious, unlike anything you've heard before. He glares at you especially, making you flinch back.

Goosebumps dot your body as you nervously look at Jimin, who surprisingly looks calm. It was as if he got his shit together on the drive to your house. Honestly, it almost gives you comfort to see your boyfriend so collected. You figure you shouldn't be so frightened if he's not, but it's easier said than done.

"Doing... what?" Jimin replies, quirking his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," Jin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I dunno, making out or dating? Because I can assure you, we've made out longer than we've dated." Jimin shrugs nonchalantly.

Your mouth drops open in shock. You have no idea if your boyfriend's being a goddamn idiot or if he wants to die by the hands of your cousin.

"WHAT?!" Jin roars, standing up from the couch. His aggressive movement makes you fall on your ass, scootching towards Jimin for protection. If you weren't screwed before, you were now.

"Wait! Wait! Don't listen to Jimin!" you yelp, panicked. "We've been dating for a little over three months, alright?"

"What? I thought it was four!" Jimin protests, a mischievous grin stuck on his face. It's obvious he's joking. But there's a time and place for that.

Okay, Jimin, I love you and all, but this is not the time!

"OKAY NO, JUST SHUT UP!" Jin shrieks, throwing his hands up his head. "You!" He points aggressively at Jimin, who raises his hands up in defense. "God, tell me you haven't taken her flower yet!"

"My what?" you cry, standing up. You weren't scared now, just a tad bit angry.

"What the fuck? No, Jin! She's 17!" Jimin yells, suddenly enraged as he stands up and grabs your hand. "You know I'm not that kind of person!"

Your face scrunches up as you take a step towards your cousin. "I can't believe you actually thought we had sex! I'm 17!"

"Well, it looked like it when I walked in the freaking classroom, you know that?" Jin shrieks. "What if it wasn't me? What if it was the principal, huh? Or another student? Another teacher?"

"We're sorry!" Jimin apologizes, though his voice raises. "That was just one mistake, alright? Just one, out of the hundreds of other times!"

"WHAT?!"

You place a hand on Jimin's chest, calming him down. "I think you should just uh... stop talking..."

No doubt he was making it worse.

"No, Y/N. Obviously, Jin doesn't understand how much you mean to me," Jimin announces, squeezing your intertwined hands and turning to your cousin. "Look, I've been taking great care of Y/N, okay? I've given her the love she deserves and all the right treatment, you know that? I love her, Jin, I actually do. Just... work with me here. I don't know what I'll do if you don't approve of this because I'm your best friend and she's your cousin or because I'm her goddamn teacher! I know it's against the rules, but fuck the teacher handbook! I don't even care if it's illegal..." Jimin trails off, looking at you with absolute love in his eyes. "Ever since we became friends, my days have been getting better. Ever since we became lovers, my life got brighter. You know how much of a positive effect we have on each other, Y/N."

You literally don't have words, but you try to speak, you really do. "J-Jimin..." It's all you can do at the moment. You're about to tell him you love him, that you know all of these things, that you don't care if it's illegal or not when—

"Okay, I didn't ask for a whole soliloquy but go off, I guess." Jin stifles a laugh by clearing his throat. "You guys do know I knew you liked each other before both of you found out?"

"What now?"

"Yeah," Jin chuckles. "Well, I always assumed Y/N was dating someone behind my back. I mean, it's so not Y/N to have fun and relax, you know, someone must be helping her live. I thought it was that Jungkook boy for the longest time when I realized how Jimin was becoming less of a workaholic too. I put the pieces together and realized you guys had feelings for each other."

You're more than bewildered, eyes turning wide and mouth open in shock. "C-Come again?"

"No, for real!" your cousin snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. "I really did suspect something! And though I probably didn't like it at first, I guess I kinda noticed how your relationship was helping both of you become the best version of yourselves. I totally approve of you two dating. Yet I don't approve of you making out in public."

You and Jimin stare at each other with jaws dropped, completely shocked. And there both of you had thought Jin never suspected a thing.

"But for real, you think I really didn't notice all those late-night dates? I can play dumb too, you know," Jin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y'all should thank me for lowkey setting you both up. I mean, if it weren't for me, both of you would've thought of each other just as a teacher or student. The horror!"

"I don't know what to say," you whisper, emotions taking the better of you. "I literally can't express how thankful I am, Jin. I really am... I don't even want to imagine what could've happened to my senior year if you didn't introduce Jimin to me, outside of school, that is. God, I would've been some friendless, antisocial robot with a side of mild depression!"

"Damn. I'm just confused," Jimin mutters, tugging you into his arms to kiss the top of your head. "Workaholic plus workaholic should equal double the work... yet somehow we learned to have some fun."

"That's what you're confused about?" you giggle, squeezing Jimin's hand. "Sometimes I question your maturity level."

"Yeah, well today, I questioned both of your intelligence levels," Jin scoffs, shaking his head. "I pretty much suspected both of you were dating for a while now -- possibly even before you were actually dating. But for real, guys? I didn't think either of you would be dense enough to make out at school!" Jin rolls his eyes. "Dense as ice, I tell ya."

You frown. "You mean dense as water."

"What?"

"Water is denser than ice," you explain slowly as if you were talking to a child.

"Okay whatever, nerd," Jin says. "The point is, I got mad because of how careless both of you were. I mean, if you want to break some rules, at least be somewhat secretive!"

"Yeah well, lesson learned. I don't want to see you mad again," you squeak, tightening your grasp on Jimin. "It was scary and I value my life."

Jimin chuckles, kissing your forehead as he hugs you from behind. "Really? I thought Jin being angry was funny."

"Oh shut up, you," Jin snorts, "before I place a strict curfew on this household."

That shuts your boyfriend right up.

"But anyways, if you wanted my blessing, I give it to you both, 3000%," Jin announces proudly. "Jimin?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a catch. Love her to death for me, will ya?"

"Sure thing," Jimin answers, snuggling his face in your neck.

"Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"You're gonna kill me for saying this, but it has to be announced sooner or later..." Jin starts, a mischievous smile blossoming on his face.

"What is it?" You cock your head.

"Well, I guess one could say... you're quite illegirl."

You don't know who lunged angrily at Jin first, you or Jimin.

"I dunno if that's a good idea, Jimin," you sigh, scratching the back of your head. "There are just so many more reasons why we shouldn't do this, you know?"

Your boyfriend laughs, rubbing your shoulder with a warm, comforting hand. "Stop being such a scaredy-cat, Y/N. It's just one small date at Wattbucks, what can go wrong?"

"Oh, ohhh, a lot of things," you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "If we go there, the whole city will know we're dating in less than half an hour!"

"Noooo," Jimin argues, giving you an innocent puppy-dog look that dangerously quickens your heartbeat. "We'll be careful!"

"Yeah, that's what we said before Jin found out." You shudder at the memory, not particularly fond of that moment in your life. It was a particularly scarring scene, still haunting you in your nightmares.

"Okay, but we'll be extra careful!"

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, no, Jimin. God, I thought you were the adult here!"

Your boyfriend huffs in mock anger, "I am! I'm just... I'd rather take a risk to have a good time with you!"

"Yeah, but the risk could literally make you lose your job, and me, expelled," you point out, crossing your arms. "I dunno if you haven't noticed, but we're kinda not allowed to be dating. We really shouldn't be—"

The next thing you know, you're at Wattbucks, waiting for your drinks. Honestly, you should've known you'd give in to your incredibly stubborn er, persistent partner. Especially when he had started pouting, you knew it was game over.

You tug your baseball cap down in an attempt to hide your face (jUst iN cAsE), running over for the thousandth time in your head why you agreed to come to such a public place with your illegal boyfriend.

"We're grabbing the lattes and leaving," you mutter, "before we meet somebody we know."

"Aw, Y/N! Stop being so paranoid, we're not gonna meet anyone we know! I've done the math, it's less than a 12% chance," Jimin whines. "I literally sat down with a pen and paper and calculated!"

"Well, I've done the math too—in my head," you protest. "It's 12.7% for your information, and what about the remaining 87.3%, huh?"

Jimin sighs, shaking his head. "Relax, okay?" He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over yours to comfort you. His charming, toffee eyes peer into yours, soothing your jumpy nerves. And when he smiles at you, eyes scrunching up and plump lips pulling apart (a genuine smile), you can't help but forget you're in public.

"OH MY GOD HOW ADORABLE!"

You and Jimin both jerk your heads towards the inhumanly high-pitched shrieker, only to find that annoying waitress that had served you months back. You'll never be able to forget her shrill voice and her favorite word: adorable.

"Here are your drinks!" the loud waitress exclaims, setting down your matching heart-design lattes. "How's my favorite couple? Would you like a free couple's mini cake?"

"Um, it's f—"

"Yes, please," Jimin answers before you do, hooking his arm around your shoulder. "We'd also love another photo!"

You shoot him an unappreciative glare that says 'you're not helping us stay lowkey,' but Jimin shrugs it off, grinning at you.

"I'll be right back with the cake~" the waitress sings, starting to leave. She calls behind her shoulder: "I'll ask my brother to take the photo. That rascal really thinks he can get away making 10 bucks an hour doing nothing. Taehyung!!!"

You gasp, so shocked that you almost fall off your seat if Jimin hadn't caught your arm. "N-No..." you breathe. "She said Taehyung, right? My ears aren't deceiving me?"

"Fuck, do you know him?" Jimin asks, tightening his grip on your arm as if you would sink to the floor without his support.

"Jesus, he's literally in my friend group!" you exclaim, standing up as Jimin's hand falls from your arm. "Forget the drinks, we've got to yeet—"

"Y/N???!" a familiar, surprised voice hollers. "Mr. Park??!"

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath before turning around to see Kim Taehyung, alright. "H-Hey, Tae!"

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung asks, cocking his brow. "And with Mr. Park?"

You and Jimin immediately scoot away from each other, making the distance between the two of you reasonably innocent.

"Oh, just discussing, um, math club details," you quickly fib, despite the fact that with the school year approaching its end, clubs weren't meeting anymore. You grit your teeth, praying that Taehyung wouldn't call you out for your immature lie. "Right, Jimin?"

Your boyfriend sighs. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Mr. Park."

Fuck. Bad habits. He just saved your ass.

"Anyways, hello, Taehyung," Jimin sleekly says, smiling at his student. His professional demeanor is back, amazingly so. Talk about a smooth transition. "You're working here, I see?"

"Uh... yeah," your friend says, staring quite suspiciously at the two of you. "Nice lattes."

Shit. The heart-shaped lattes had once seemed so cute, but now they were going to be the end of you both.

"Well, Jungkook's coming too," you blurt out before thinking it over. "J-Just wanted to um... surprise him..."

You thought the stuttering would make the lie less believable, but it seemed as if it made it more valid.

"O. M. G. You two are a thing? Oh, I fucking knew it!" Taehyung shouts, pumping his fist in excitement before realizing his teacher had been witnessing. "Uh, I mean, I freaking knew it... Sorry, Mr. Park."

"No! No, we're not a thing... uh, yet," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But what can you say? You're literally the worst liar ever. Hopefully, Taehyung's incredibly gullible.

"That damn kid," Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head. "He's too much of a goddamn pussy to ask you out." One disapproving look from Jimin makes your friend flush, looking down at his feet. "Er, yeah... I'll be leaving now! Bye, Y/N, bye, Mr. Park!"

"Wait a minute, not so fast, you rascal!" The waitress flies back, an adorable mini cake in her hands, which she quickly sets down on the table. But she's too late; her brother had already fled the scene. "Damn him," she huffs, placing a sassy hand on her hip. "Would you still like a photo?"

"Uhh, no we're fine," you quickly answer, "but it'd be amazing if we could get the cake to-go."

"Yes, we completely forgot we made reservations for lunch," Jimin pipes up, smiling coyly at the waitress to convince her further. "May we get the lattes to-go as well?"

"Sure, no problem!" the waitress chuckles, shaking her head as she balances the lattes and cake on her tray. "Taehyung'll bring these out in a moment!"

As soon as she leaves, Jimin stands up, grabbing his jacket. "God, if Taehyung's coming, I better leave. Make up some fib about Jungkook and meet me in the parking lot!" He gives you a fleeting kiss on the cheek and rushes out of the quiet cafe before you can say another word.

You roll your eyes, an 'I told you so' threatening to bubble out of your throat. But still, the warmth of his lips, when they had pressed on your cheek, leaves you yearning for more.

"Fuck, did that idiot stand you up?" Taehyung asks, slightly out of breath as he hands you a to-go bag. "Damn, he fucked up."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Kook wouldn't do that to me! We're just meeting somewhere closer to his house 'cause his car broke down."

Taehyung scoffs. "You guys are taking it so slowly, god, I'll get married by the time you two start dating!" he whines. "Didn't he already confess?"

You frown, shifting the bag from one hand to the other. "What do you mean?"

"What the fuck, he told me he confessed!" your friend sighs, rubbing his forehead stressfully. "That goddamn liar."

"I'm pretty he said that to get you and Yoongi's asses off of him," you chuckle. "Last time I checked, there were no confessions!"

"What?? That little bastard! He told me you confessed your unrequited love first, and then he confirmed his feelings for you!" Taehyung huffs, genuinely looking angry. "This whole time I thought you were secretly dating!"

Your eyebrows furrow, lips pulling down into a serious frown. What??? You'd never confessed anything, at least, in your memories. But that's when it hits you.

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't... I'm so sorry."

"Unrequited love?"

"I guess you could say that..."

"Thought so. But he loves you back."

It hits you like a goddamn freight train. This whole time Jungkook had thought you had been talking about him. Fuck. This whole time Jungkook had thought you liked him back. Fuck. All those little touches here and there, the arm linking, the side hugs—the gestures that you thought were completely innocent and friendly had meant something else for him.

But you really weren't looking for drama now. Besides, Jimin was waiting for you in the parking lot. You need to make this quick.

"O-Oh," you stutter stupidly before clearing your throat. "No, yeah, he did confess, but we just agreed to take it slow." Somehow the lie flies off your lips too easily as if your guilty conscience had disintegrated.

"Well, don't take it too slow!" Taehyung winks at you teasingly. "I want to be alive by the time you two finally date!" All you can do is nod, gripping the to-go bag tightly. Taehyung notices the gesture, realizing that you kinda wanted to leave. "Then I guess have a nice time with Kook, Y/N. Bye!"

"Thanks! Bye, Tae!"

You don't turn around once, making a beeline for the door and rushing out to the parking lot. Jimin's leaning against his car, looking off cynically to the distance. When he catches sight of you out of his peripheral vision, he perks up, a smile blossoming on his lips.

"Taehyung give you a hard time?" he asks, taking the to-go bag from you and opening the shotgun seat for you to get in.

You smile at him gratefully, sliding into the seat. "Yeah, kinda..."

"What'd he say?"

"Eh, nothing really important," you say quickly, hoping your boyfriend wouldn't want to mull over such a small deal. You don't know if he's the type to get jealous, but you don't want to find out.

Thankfully, Jimin doesn't ask any more questions. "Sooo, wanna go home?"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine, of course," Jimin chuckles, smirking. "We don't want Jin walking in on us again."

Your face flushes at the memory, and you slap your boyfriend's shoulder for bringing it up. "Yeah, definitely." Sighing, you tug your cap down again, slouching in the seat. "This is why we should always have our dates at home."

Jimin grins. "I don't object—not when I have so many amazing activities planned."

—previous | next

—masterlist

[lovelyirony]

Hhhhhhnggggg I thought of something and I think you can make it beautiful. "Being your father is more important to me than being their friend."

thank you! 

If you had told Tony Stark that he would be a father figure some day, he would’ve laughed in your face. Because Tony Stark is not a figure for anything besides perhaps business or alcoholism. 

But then Iron Man. 

But then Avengers. 

But then...everything. 

The first time he really considers himself a father figure is when he gets emailed from Harley who starts it off with “why is your email embarrassingly easy to hack? Anyway I want to ask you about this robot thing. I’m not saying I’m building it but if I would be doing so what would I need.” 

Tony emails back: 

“When you hack into my email all of my employees who work in the encryption networks get an alert and put you on the ‘watch-for-this’ list. Basically all about employment. Anyway, suppose you are building this (and you are, because you’re a punk)...you need some copper wiring and I’ll send you the other stuff.” 

Harley and Tony pull up a sort of correspondence over email. And then Harley demands to have his number because “no one uses email anymore except for clothing companies, and you are not supplying me with any good deals on shirts.” 

(Tony absolutely does deny that he loves this kid when Rhodey catches them talking on the phone.) 

He also says he’s just providing a learning opportunity when Harley and his sister get to come to New York for a summer. 

“It’s because you like kids,” Rhodey says. “And you like Harley because he’s as much of a little shit as you are.” 

“False, he’s even more so. He built a potato gun and aimed it at me the first time we met.” 

“And you probably made some wise-ass remark about him or what have you. I wanna meet him.” 

Harley is an asshole. 

(Tony’s glad to have him.) 

His sister is sweet. Lily likes to learn about the world and the different connections between countries. Tony has no doubt that she has a career with the UN and makes sure to subtly get her books about political science and cool historical events. 

They don’t mention the distinct lack of the Avengers, at least until they’re at the dinner table and Tony’s picking at broccoli. 

“So, when are you going to recruit new members?” Harley asks, looking directly at him. He’s one of the few people in Tony’s life that can look at him directly now. He’s never shied away from that, and he can appreciate it. 

“Why would I recruit new members?” 

“We still need the Avengers. Besides, maybe you can find someone who doesn’t have as lame a costume as Captain America.” 

Tony snorts, taking his plate to the sink. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

He thinks long and he thinks hard that night. Tony’s not an idiot when it comes to the team’s whereabouts. They need somewhere where they are untouchable by anyone. 

And where better than a country with a long reputation of being a total recluse? 

He’ll have to ask King T’Challa if they also put coffee grounds down the sink. 

But they do need a team. And he remembers in the letter that Steve sent that he said that the Avengers were perhaps more of a family for Tony than for Steve. 

Yeah. It shows. Shows by the way Natasha, Clint, and Wanda all left with him. Shows how they’re family because no one’s there for Tony when he’s gasping for air from Steve’s shield crashing down on his chest, cracking. 

(He said that the shield didn’t belong to Steve. He wasn’t wrong. That shield doesn’t belong to Steve, because it’s not a belonging. It’s simply...Steve.) 

So. Family. Tony needs to find a new one. Or just new teammates. 

He talks to Rhodey, who agrees to be an overseer or who shows up. 

-

Rhodey asks about Spider-Man. 

“He’s on reserves only,” Tony says. “I can’t have him get hurt.” 

Peter’s a great kid. One of the best there is, most likely. (Just don’t ever ask Tony to say that out loud.) 

And he’s been itching to test out some new micro-fabric that has to do with defensive techniques that Tony’s been toying with, and this is the perfect time to introduce Peter to Harley. 

Harley’s soft, worn t-shirts contrast with the bright, punny shirts that Peter almost always wears. Peter talks a mile a minute while Harley really only says what he has to. 

At first, Tony isn’t sure if they’re going to get along. Harley’s not one for enthusiastic, jumpy people and hates going into New York City for literally anything. 

(“You’re supposed to come for dinner! We’re only eating with Pepper!” 

“I literally do not care. I saw a rat and I saw a person who was wearing neon orange. I am not dealing with this.”) 

But Peter is surprisingly savage when he wants to be, and they bond over roasting Tony within an inch of his life. 

“I literally cannot believe you,” Tony says. “You go from stuttering to roasting me over my shoe choice.” 

“Mr. Stark, those are quite possibly the ugliest shoes you could wear to this event,” Peter stresses. “You’re wearing a suit and bright orange shoes.” 

“Yes! It’s called being unique.” 

“It’s called ‘you’re about to get roasted by every magazine and social media account’,” Harley answers, not even looking up from his project. “Change your shoes.” 

“I’m Iron Man. I can handle a little fashion roasting.” 

“Yeah but you should have better taste,” Harley deadpans. “Go with the silver shoes. They’re not terrible.” Tony pouts but changes into the shoes. 

Harley and Peter send him both an article about “the unique, amazingly quirky style of one Tony Stark,” with captions that mean the same thing: told you so. 

It’s sad when Harley has to go back home with Lily. Tony promises them that they can spend every summer upstate if their mother is okay with it. Lily gives him a friendship bracelet before they fly and no, Tony does not Cry Actual Buckets. 

Peter’s summer is about to end, and Tony’s getting on him about last minute AP homework. 

“What do you mean you didn’t have time to finish up your AP History diorama? You spent all of last weekend googling military conspiracy theories! You have had time!” 

“Okay, that’s fair, but still--” 

Tony sends Harley and Lily care packages and letters. They send him back letters about the school day, what’s going on in the community, and Lily tends to “tell on” her brother about his own projects. 

“She didn’t have to tell you I was building a flying motorbike,” Harley whines. “Or that I couldn’t modulate it.” 

“Yeah, but she knows that you need someone to bounce ideas off of. So you could’ve easily talked to Peter or myself.” 

(The motorbike works and Tony has to plead with Harley not to use it to get to New York. 

“Feasibly if I could up the speed, Lily and I could be there in six hours so--” 

“Don’t you dare!”) 

Peter drops by all the time to check in on the progress of the new Avengers. They’ve contacted one of Rhodey’s “friends,” Carol Danvers. 

“A woman that cool? Simply could not have been ‘just’ a friend,” Tony says, smiling. “We’ll ask her about it later.” 

“Nope, you and your freaky Spider-Son are not asking Danvers shit,” Rhodey says. 

“He’s not my son.” 

“He might as well be, sweetheart. He’s already copying your penchant for graphic shirts and being horrible at lying.” 

“I’m not horrible at it.” 

“Yes you are,” Rhodey answers. “For example. Tell me a lie. Tell me that you hate Peter.” 

“Why would I ever tell that lie?” 

“Because you can’t. Next question. When are you going to lecture him about not stealing leftovers?” 

Tony laughs. 

- 

In all honesty, life has been going great. In Tony’s personal life, he and Pepper are going back to better terms friendship-wise. Harley is coming up for Christmas and Peter’s been planning Secret Santa with everyone who lives at the base. 

And then they hear word of a return. 

Rhodey wants to take...drastic measures. 

“We are not sending them to the moon,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes. 

“Why not?” 

“A waste of money, Jim. Honestly.” 

“True point.” 

Tony freezes when he realizes that he won’t be there in time to see them because he’s picking Harley and Lily up. 

“You take Peter with you, we’ll meet them, Rhodey says, smiling. “Nothing like a classic New York welcome, right?” 

“You are not yelling ‘fuck you’ with a bullhorn,” Tony responds, trying to hide a laugh. “I better not hear that you made international news.” 

“Then don’t turn on your TV.” 

Harley and Lily have already heard the news. Harley’s digging through his suitcase in the middle of the airport, and Tony has to flash a smile and a guilty look to a security guard in order for the TSA to lay off. 

“What are you doing, nerd?” Tony asks. 

“Trying to make a slingshot that has a bit more bite to it. You think we can pick up loose concrete rocks on the way to the base?” Harley asks. 

“No, we are not doing that. What I am doing is dropping you off at Peter’s house until I can get them somewhere to stay.” 

“You don’t owe them anything,” Lily remarks. “They broke international border rules and technically should be under government jurisdiction. You don’t have to give them a space.” 

“And yet I’m the only one good at containing,” Tony sighs. “Look, I’m sorry that this won’t be the ideal--” 

“Peter’s not at his house,” Harley answers, frowning at his phone. “Something about barricades?” 

“Oh my god,” Tony groans. “Rhodey got him. Well, in the car. How good are both of you at immediately ducking and rolling out of a car?” 

“We can still be there for you,” Harley says, annoyed. “I have a stun gun that could take down a tyrannosaurus rex.” 

“You can’t substantiate that with concrete evidence,” Lily argues. 

“I theorize that Rogers has to be weaker than a T-Rex, so I think it’s gonna be effective,” Harley responds. “Let me try it out, Tony? Please?” 

“No,” Tony says, but adds, “maybe in a week.” 

Peter is waiting inside and lights up when he sees Harley and Lily.

“Good, the holidays can really begin,” Peter jokes. “We even have the questionable side of the family in for a visit.” 

“For now,” Rhodey says, scowling. “Tony, please tell me they won’t be here for the holidays. We were supposed to pull out the decorations today.” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Tony says wearily. “Have the delegates been contacted?” 

“Marya and Joseph are on their way to deal with re-homing issues and family connections. They should be tied up with legal and personal aspects all day.” 

“Good,” Tony says. “But I do need to go greet them.” 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Rhodey says, serious expression. “I can deal with them.” 

“You shouldn’t have to. And besides, it’ll be better coming from me. Being here for you all is more important than trying to be their friend.” 

Harley, Peter, and Lily give him a hug. 

“Don’t stay too long,” Peter says. “I made a Christmas Roulette Playlist.” 

“Why is it roulette?” 

“One Halloween song and at least one opera song. Whoever can name the song first wins the privilege of opening the first ornament for the tree.” 

“Wait up for me,” Tony says, grinning. 

It’s hard to face people you used to know. 

But Tony has a family to get back to. 

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 16: Salvage

As much as Nami would have loved to set out right away to get the antivenom, she knew there was no choice but to wait at least two hours until the tide was low enough to safely explore the shipwreck. From what she could observe through the binoculars, it was securely lodged into the rocks and reef that surrounded the island, but much of it was only really accessible when the tide was out.

So, with no other choice but to play the waiting game, she found herself perusing a zoology book to pass the time.

“Huh. Apparently, snow leopards can’t roar—however, their tails are super mobile and are often used to send ‘messages’ during social encounters. They’re ambush attackers who generally pounce down on their prey from above, which is easy since they’re excellent climbers and can jump up to seven times their body length. They’re also known as the ‘Ghosts of the Mountains’ in some places because they’re so shy and solitary,” she prattled, skimming over the description before looking up at Law, who huffed in annoyance as his tail irritably flicked back and forth.

Clearly, the transformed captain was antsy. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to join his companions on their salvaging mission. Naturally, he’d thrown a fit, hissing and growling and making all sorts of angry sounds—including what she now assumed was his failed attempt to roar—but the pair of navigators stood firm. It was only when Nami pointed out that, Devil Fruit powers or not, he didn’t know how to swim in his current form which made him a potential liability, that he reluctantly acquiesced.

Of course, since he couldn’t help and would be forced to stay on the ship alone, he needed something to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t pace around the infirmary, speeding up the poison’s journey through his bloodstream. Unfortunately, he was having a harder time distracting himself than Nami, as his furry paws made it impossible enjoy a book past a couple pages. Reading aloud to him was the only real option and keeping him informed of his current form’s capabilities at least seemed useful. However, it appeared that there wasn’t a lot of information on snow leopards due to their reclusive nature.

As if human Law isn’t mysterious enough, she thought, skipping to another section. “Ok, what do you want to hear about next; pandas or binturongs? Or should we switch to birds?” she asked, indicating another book by Dr. Monroe. Bepo had been nice enough to lug over the man’s entire encyclopedia series, which ranged from reptiles to mammals to birds from all four Blues.

Yellow eyes rolled heavenwards as Law grumbled under his breath. Bepo wasn’t around at the moment to translate, but Nami could pretty easily deduce that he was displeased with both options.

“Well, sorry Law, but I already told you that I’m not reading any of your creepy-ass medical texts! If you don’t want me to read to you, we’ll find you a ball of yarn or something,” she snapped, slamming the book closed.

Spotted ears flattened back as he gave a brief flash of his fangs before calming down, looking away with a huff. Yet despite his haughty expression, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his claws flexed in and out.

He was trying to hide it, but Nami could tell Law was quietly freaking out.

She sighed as she reached out to stroke his brow soothingly. “Sorry. Guess we’re both a bit tense, huh?”

He grunted in affirmation but didn’t pull away, instead leaning into her touch.

Deciding that petting him would be a much better distraction than reading for both of them, she began scratching behind his ears with gusto as she said, “Look, I get that this must suck for you, especially considering how used to being in control you are. I’m sure I wouldn’t be much happier if I were turned into a cat. But I promise Bepo and I will be fine. It’s just a quick salvage mission; we get the antivenom, plus the supplies that guy needs, and then head straight back to the Tang. Easy-peasy. You’ll be back on your feet by dawn, and human again by breakfast.”

He gave her a disbelieving side-eye before arching his neck back, silently indicating that she should direct her attentions there.

Nami rolled her eyes but followed his instruction, fingers firmly scratching under his chin. After all, when else would she get the chance to cuddle a snow leopard like a friendly housecat? That, and he seemed less inclined to argue with her when he was getting so much physical attention. “You must know you’ve got a capable crew, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have sailed this far with them. Sure, there are plenty of things that only you can do, but delegation of duties is an essential leadership skill. When this is all over, I want to you to start trusting your nakama more, got it?” she scolded, even as she carded her fingers along his broad chest, her hands practically disappearing into the luxuriously thick fur.

She had to admit, she did kind of like him like this. He was gloriously fluffy, she could ignore his snide comments and innuendos, and petting him was oddly enjoyable. Not that she wanted Law to stay like this forever, as she would miss their verbal sparring and occasional intelligent conversations, but she found herself wondering if, just maybe, when he turned back, he could…keep the ears and tail? He’d be so cute with them!

As she scratched his chin, a smug smirk curled her lips. “You know, maybe we should keep you like this for a little while longer. It’ll teach you to rely on your crew a bit more, and I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind having my own pet snow leopard,” she teased.

Law’s eyes narrowed at the statement before a wide smirk of his own spread across his muzzle, a hungry glint shining in the gold irises. It was an expression Nami could only describe as “deviously seductive” and she was certain that if he were in his human form, she’d be pinned to the nearest flat surface.

He gave a low, almost purring growl, and she immediately inferred it to mean “enjoy it while you can, because the second I’m me again, you are in so much trouble.” The message was further punctuated by the way he leaned in and inhaled against her neck, his whiskers tickling her chin.

Do not be aroused by a cat. Do not be aroused by a cat, Nami chanted in her head, blushing as her imagination was filled with Law in his human form, yet sporting those ears and tail she’d found so cute. Only, it wasn’t quite so adorable when paired with a feral smile and graceful, prowling movements as he caged her against a wall.

Realizing exactly where her thoughts were straying, she immediately sought to distract both Law and herself by reaching up to scratch behind his ears, earning her a series of very happy sounds from the big cat. It was hard to be seductive when you were getting petted like a big, fluffy kitty, after all.

Leaning hard into her touch, he let out a few deep meows, eyes shutting tightly in pleasure as she hit a particularly good spot.

“Umm, he just said ‘If the trade fails, your job for the rest of the year is doing this. Constantly’,” Bepo explained as he poked his head into the room. He carefully made his way to the bed, his hands occupied by a large bowl of water and a massive tray of raw meat while Kikoku was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

It hadn’t dawned on any of them until Law’s stomach had started growling that he hadn’t eaten anything since the pocky game, so the bear had offered to get him some food from the galley. Despite his captain’s current form, Nami had expected his order to be along the lines of onigiri, though she could now see that had been a bit optimistic.

“Are you sure this is what you’re hungry for, Law?” Bepo asked, looking down at the meat dubiously. “It’d really be no trouble to cook it up for you.”

Law’s eyes lit up at the sight of the bloody steaks and gave a few yowls in reply, pulling away from Nami’s hands to eagerly sit up.

The Mink blanched at his response. “Ew, Law! That’d technically be cannibalism!”

“What would?” Nami asked, horrified.

“Eating the boar that attacked us, since it used to be a human like him.” Bepo shuddered before handing him the food. “Here. They’re a little cold, but they were the only non-frozen meat I could find.”

The leopard didn’t seem to mind, literally tearing into one of the raw steaks with a barely-contained hunger. His table manners weren’t exactly great as a human, but Nami found watching him devour his dinner like this was far worse.

Any half-hearted plans of keeping him as a leopard were immediately scrapped. If this is what feeding time would look like, it was not worth it.

Averting her eyes for the sake of not emptying her own stomach, she turned her focus to Bepo, who had leaned Kikoku against the cot. “Why’d you get that? It’s not like he can use it,” she asked, wiggling her fingers meaningfully.

“He knows that, but I think it makes him feel better having it around,” he whispered in her ear.

“Like a security blanket?”

“Yeah.”

She stifled a giggle with her hand. “Got it. How’s the tide looking?”

“Almost fully out. I think it’s about time to go.”

“Sounds good. Think Law will be ok without us for a few hours?”

They turned to find Law on his back, batting at Kikoku’s dangling tassels. Feeling their amused gazes on him, he glared and let out a growl.

“Law says, ‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you’.”

This time, Nami didn’t bother to hide her laughter.

XXX

The trip over to the wreck had been fairly smooth—the weather was calm, the nearly-full moon provided plenty of light to see by, and their small motorboat managed to navigate the sharp rocks that poked out of the water. They’d grabbed a few empty backpacks to carry their loot, along with her lock picks and a lantern to light the way inside. Nami hoped they wouldn’t need much more than that; their boat was designed for speed and maneuverability, not weight, so they couldn’t afford to bring more than necessary.

As they pulled up alongside the ship, she was amazed at how well-preserved it was. Sure, it was definitely never going to sail again, but it was still in one piece; far better off than the ship that had fallen from Skypia that she’d made the boys salvage back what felt like a lifetime ago. Barnacles encased nearly every inch of the hull, and there were noticeable holes in the side that looked like damage from canon fire. If she had to guess, the pirates had been escaping a battle and gotten caught up in a storm, leading them to be shipwrecked on the cove. Her theory of a storm was confirmed when she got a good look at the mast—it was charred and splintered, clearly damaged by a lightning strike, and the sails were burned to black tatters.

From what she could tell, there were three levels, much like the Thousand Sunny. Given her experience infiltrating and robbing pirate ships in the past, she figured they’d find the galley, sick bay, and crew’s living quarters on the main deck level. The captain’s quarters and treasure room would take up most of the top level. Below deck would be additional living quarters, storage space, and brig.

She didn’t have high hopes for the lower level—it spent the most time underwater compared to the others, so it’d likely have little to offer. Still, her time as a thief had taught her not to completely rule out a secret treasure room or safe hidden deep in the bowls of the ship, as some of the smarter crews had learned not to keep the best stuff in the obvious places.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” she said to Bepo as they climbed up onto the deck. The wood was slippery with kelp and algae, and she could already see several large holes where the wood had rotted through. “We need to locate the antivenom first—the sick bay’s our best bet. Next, we’ll get the stuff we need for the trade. Depending on the shape the ship is in, though, you might need to hang back if the floors are too rotted.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

She carefully stepped over a broken railing—the whole ship listed slightly to the left, so keeping their balance was tricky. “We need to be careful; Law’s already all pissy because he couldn’t come with us. If we come back with so much as a scratch, he’s going to bitch about how he should have been there. This is your chance to prove to him that he can trust other people and that he doesn’t need to be such a control freak.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t want to rely on him so much,” Bepo said sadly as he reached out a paw for her to take, helping her climb over some debris, “but if we don’t let him get his way, he does it behind our backs, and sometimes he gets hurt because of it. At least when we let him be in charge, he’ll let us go along as backup.”

“Well, not this time,” she reaffirmed, eyes narrowed seriously. “You need to stand up for yourself more, just like you did back in the infirmary. Doing that probably saved his life!”

“I know,” he replied as they reached the entrance to the main deck. “It’s just…Shachi, Penguin and I have followed him since we were kids. The three of us were lost in a big world and desperate for a leader. And sure, we’re all grown up now, but he’s still the one with the plans and ambitions and power…”

“Yeah, he’s powerful,” she agreed, gingerly testing out the floor. When it proved solid enough, she motioned for Bepo to follow her inside. She knew they had to step lightly, though—even if the rooms only got halfway submerged at high tide, it was still enough to cause significant structural damage. “That doesn’t mean he’s all-powerful. You guys have your strengths, too. He can’t navigate, right?”

“Well, no…”

“Can he shoot a rifle like Shachi?”

“He can fire a gun, but he’s no sharpshooter.”

“Can he fix the engine like Ikkaku?”

“Absolutely not! Law specifically hired her because none of us could figure out the engine!”

“See? Everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses. Yes, there are certain things only Law can do, but he can’t do it all. He’s already pulling double-duty as the captain and doctor; you guys need to step in when he starts making too much work for himself.”

“We stepped in on the beach,” he defended as he pointed out a room at the end of the hall with a little red cross over it.

Taking the hint, Nami carefully made her way towards it, indicting to him the spots that obviously couldn’t take the polar bear’s weight. “It shouldn’t have taken that long, though! He spent a week not sleeping, running himself into the ground—”

“Law only listens to us when things are really bad!” Bepo shouted, stamping his foot in frustration. Unfortunately, the force combined with the unstable wood sent his leg crashing through the floor.

“Whoa!” Nami cried, grabbing his arm to stabilize him while he pulled the limb out. Though that particular spot wasn’t rotted, it had been flanked by splintered sections that hadn’t offered much support. “Ok, you know what? Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this,” she said as nervous sweat dripped down her neck. She was so used to Bepo being meek and apologetic, she’d forgotten that he was a super-strong Mink. Him losing his temper was dangerous, especially here.

He nodded quickly, paws trembling the slightest bit. “Agreed,” he whimpered, his round ears drooping with shame. “I’m sorry.”

She immediately felt guilty. It was one thing to give a guy a much-needed lecture, but she’d been so far up on her high horse she hadn’t considered that they had significantly more important things to focus on. “It’s fine. I did say you needed more backbone, didn’t I?” Steadying herself, she helped him to his feet. “Let’s just hold off on the subject until we’re back on the Tang.”

“Ok,” he whimpered, head still hanging in contrition.

Nami made a mental note to keep an eye on the poor guy. He’d clearly been taking this whole fiasco harder than she’d thought. His captain was powerless and poisoned, his crew was missing, they had to trudge around a dangerous, rotting ship to appease a crazy old man, and Nami was basically telling him that it was his fault for not better controlling his stubborn captain.

Once this was over, she’d make it up to him. Maybe get him another giant salmon or something on the next island. Or more ear scratches. He’d seemed to like those, and it didn’t cost her money.

That in mind, she cautiously opened the door to the sick bay, wincing at the moaning creak the rusty hinges gave out. The room itself was fairly standard for a pirate ship—an examination table, sick bed, desk, skeleton display (which Nami hoped was fake and for reference purposes, and not some poor soul who’d been picked clean by the fishes), small cages for lab animals, and what were probably the sodden remains of the physician’s texts and notes. However, the state of the place would give Chopper a conniption fit; seaweed and algae clung to nearly every surface, the padding on the chair and cot had been ripped apart, glass from broken bottles was all over the floor, and the place reeked of decomposing wood and salt.

Of course, none of that mattered to Nami as her attention was quickly drawn to the large safe in the back of the room. It was made of stainless steel, so while barnacles and rockweed had attached themselves to the surface, there was blessedly minimal rust.

“Think that’s where we’ll find our antivenom?” she asked rhetorically, already examining the lock to see if it needed to be picked. It was a fairly simple one—it needed a key as opposed to a combination—and Nami immediately pulled out her lockpicks, carefully jimmying the tumblers into place.

The tiny click was easily heard by both navigators, who’d unconsciously held the breaths. They both exhaled a soft “whoa” as the door swung open, revealing stacks of trays filled with carefully labeled vials. Many of them were the antivenom they sought, but there were also shelves full of the venom itself; mostly coral snake, though there were notably a few others like king cobra, black mamba, and pit viper.

“That’s a lot of snake venom,” Nami said with a shudder, imagining the number of snakes it must have taken to get that much stock. And they’d kept them on the ship? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“The old man did say those pirates dealt in it.” Bepo peered at the assortment of antivenom before selecting a vial. “Here’s the coral snake. Should we take any of the others?”

“Hell, take it all. It’s not doing any good here, and I’m sure after this fiasco Law would want to have extra antivenom on hand just in case. Anything he doesn’t want, we can sell.”

“Law will like that. Antivenom goes for big money at hospitals, since it’s not always easy to get access to. But the venom itself we should dump—I don’t like the idea of anyone getting a hold of this much poison.”

Nami couldn’t agree more. There was only one reason she could think of for why anyone would want snake venom in large quantities—murder. And whether the Navy, pirates, or Revolutionaries were the buyers made no difference.

As Bepo carefully loaded up the backpack with the antivenom, she fished out the deadly vials and began flinging them out the broken window. She could hear some crash against the rocks while others plopped into the sea, hopefully lost forever. So long, and good riddance, she thought, taking a bit of pleasure in imagining she was flinging away the snake that had bitten Law. She wondered if coral snakes could swim, or if the snake had drowned when she’d blasted it away into the water. She hoped it was the latter.

When she was done, Nami assessed the rest of the room. “Should we take anything else?” There were syringes, a microscope, stethoscopes, scalpels, and several other assorted medical apparatuses, though none of it was in particularly great shape.

Glancing at the waterlogged infirmary, Bepo wrinkled his nose in disdain. “No way. This equipment’s nothing compared to the Tang’s, and I doubt the sanitation of most of it after months exposed to the elements. It’s not even worth selling.”

Mouth twisting in disgust as she found herself agreeing with his assessment, Nami eyed the knapsack on his back. He’d loaded the trays that kept the vials upright, but they didn’t completely protect them when he moved. “Are those going to be safe like that?”

“I’ve stacked them as best I could, but we should try to find cloth to wrap them in for extra protection so they’re not just banging against each other,” he replied, shifting nervously. Even with that small motion, Nami could swear she heard a gentle clink of glass hitting glass.

It was tempting to suggest they put the bag in the motorboat for safekeeping, but it was too risky; an errant wave could capsize the boat and dump their precious cargo into the ocean, and it all would have been for nothing. They’d just have to be careful.

“Maybe we can find some rags or something to use as padding,” Nami suggested, leading them back into the hallway. Until then, they’d absolutely have to watch their step; another crash through the floor like earlier, and they risked a backpack full of unusable liquid and broken test tubes.

Their next stop was the galley, and immediately they knew they’d find little of use there. The cooking utensils were rusted through, as were the pots and pans, and there was nothing that could convince them that opening the refrigerator would result in anything less than a biohazard. Nami braved a trip to the pantry; there was some tinned food that looked to still be in decent condition, though she decided to pass on the can opener—it was guaranteed to give someone tetanus.

I sure hope we have better luck with the rest of the ship, she thought gloomily as they decided to take a chance on the upper deck, otherwise we won’t have much to trade for the crew.

“Should we go upstairs to the captain’s quarters, or the other side of the ship for the crew’s?” Bepo asked, pointing at the ceiling.

After dropping the canned goods into her own sack, Nami considered the question. Given its position high above the ocean and rocks, it likely had sustained the least amount of damage, making it the safest to check out. It also likely had the most usable goods, meaning that if they could find what they needed there, they wouldn’t have to bother with the other rooms.

“Captain’s room. If anyone on this ship owned a pair of good, hearty boots, it’d be them.”

The stairs to the top deck creaked and groaned with every step, but thankfully they held together well enough, even under Bepo’s weight.

The top deck held only one door, which was probably ornate before the wreck—now, the red and gold paint was chipped and faded while the etched handle was rusted over. Nami carefully tested the knob, only to find it jammed. “Bepo, would you be a dear and get the door?” she asked sweetly, moving to the side.

The bear stepped forward, taking a minute to futilely try to turn the knob himself. Nami sighed and stopped him before miming what she meant for him to do.

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied before kicking in the door, the force of the blow sending it clear across the room.

“Guess you’re not used to breaking and entering, huh?” she joked. A thought came to her. “By the way, how’d you get into Law’s room earlier? You know, to get Kikoku? It was locked when I checked.”

Bepo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why were you trying to get into his room?”

She froze. Shit. She needed a good explanation, or else he’d surely say something to Law, and any hope she’d have of getting in there would be ruined. “Oh! Uh, I wanted to see if he’d returned to the sub!” she lied, putting on an innocent smile. “You know, it would have been silly for us to search the island for him when he’d been in his room the whole time!”

He scratched his head guiltily. “Oh. That makes sense. Sorry I didn’t think of that.” Gingerly stepping into the room to ensure the floor was stable, he explained, “I have a key to his room for emergencies. I mean, he rarely has to worry about locking himself out, what with his powers and all, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

It felt wrong to take advantage of Bepo’s trust and innocence, but Nami knew this was her chance to get into Law’s room. “Do you carry it on you most of the time, or do you keep it in your room for safekeeping?”

“Oh, I usually leave it in my top desk drawer so it doesn’t get lost.”

“See? You’re responsible! Further proof that Law’s stupid for not trusting you more,” she chirped, lightly hopping over a hole in the floor. Standing in the center of the captain’s quarters, she took in what had probably been fairly luxurious accommodations before the wreck.

While the elements hadn’t too severely affected the room since it managed to stay above water, two months of rain, wind, and waves coming through the broken windows had clearly taken its toll. The velvet curtains were tattered and coated with a layer of salt and seaweed. There was a leather chair that had seen better days, a fancy wardrobe sporting clear water damage, and the decorative cutlass displayed over the bed looked like it could dissolve if touched, it was so rusted and tarnished. The cherrywood desk had become home to crabs and starfish, and there was a massive bird’s nest in the center of the king-sized bed. Oddly, though, there wasn’t much by way of bird crap over the floor. Yet something clearly lived there, as it looked like some kind of massive bird had decided to rip apart the mounted snow leopard head with its beak and talons.

It was the polar opposite of any room Luffy would ever want, even looking past the obvious deterioration. Her captain had always preferred sleeping with his crew, roughing it in a hammock or bunk bed. He’d never even mentioned a desire for his own cabin, despite a captain having every right to one. Heck, even back in the days of the Going Merry, the second room had been given to Nami and treated as the women’s quarters, despite them at the time not knowing if there would even be any other girls.

I wonder why? Nami thought to herself. Did he just not see any reason for having a room to himself, or did he genuinely dislike sleeping alone? Maybe he and Ace always shared a room, so he slept better with company?

It drove home just how little she really knew about Luffy’s past. When they were reunited, she’d have to sit him down and get his whole life story; why Shanks had given him his hat, whether Garp and the Revolutionary Dragon were his only living relatives, tales about growing up with Ace…

Shaking herself out of questions about the past and plans for the future, she focused on the present. “Check the wardrobe for the boots and blankets—I’ll see if the desk drawers are watertight enough to keep any books from getting destroyed.”

Bepo nodded, shuffling over to the far side of the room while Nami set to work picking the locks of the desk drawers. Most contained sodden papers, leaking pens, a few animal claws on a string, and a waterlogged pocket watch, but nothing of real value or use.

However, inside the top left drawer was a metal box. Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs as she imagined this could be where the captain had stashed his spare cash or prized pieces of treasure. Nimbly picking the padlock, she was disappointed to find just a few belli notes and a leather-bound journal. She stuffed the money in her bra for safekeeping and cracked open the log, hoping that it would at least tell her where the crew might have kept their treasure.

Captain’s Log: February 22nd Just made lucrative a deal with a stinking-rick noblewoman who wants a whole coat made of snow leopard fur, plus a pet baby snow leopard she can show off, but it’s not exactly easy to find those damn cats, especially outside the North Blue. Luckily, there’s a winter island not far from here with some conservationists studying them; maybe if we make nice, they’ll lead us to a few.

Captain’s Log: April 4th We may have found our ultimate meal ticket. Why search the Grand Line for exotic animals when you have a Devil Fruit user who can MAKE them? One of the conservationists can actually turn people into animals—he’s been using it to transform his fellow scientists so they can get close to the animals they’re studying. He’s an older man. Weak. Idealistic. Shouldn’t be hard to break him in.

Captain’s Log: April 10th Doc says he can’t really choose what to turn people into, but I think it’s bullshit. Yesterday, he turned the cabin boy into a calf, probably so he’ll think he’s useless. Joke’s on him, though—that veal was damn tasty. Good to know we’ll always have a supply of meat on a long voyage. Hell, maybe we could open a butcher shop on the side.

Captain’s Log: April 18th You know, I used to just put a bullet in an animal’s brain to kill it before skinning, but that always was such a bitch to clean up, plus it risked damaging the rest of the coat. But then Akio came up with a great idea—kill them with snake venom! It’s a lot less messy, depending on what you use, and I can save my bullets.

On top of that, Doc’s still trying to rebel by turning prisoners into useless animals like mice and hamsters. Except now we’ve got ourselves some excellent lab rats for making antivenom. Lemons and lemonade, right?

Captain’s Log: June 12th Doc’s “training” is coming along nicely. Sure, he still begs and pleads for us not to make him use his powers, but it doesn’t take much for him to give up anymore, and he’s finally giving us the animals we want. It helps that Haru was able to rig up one of the pullies to his cage so if he doesn’t comply, he gets a nice long dunk in the ocean to cool his head. Devil Fruit, am I right? I used to want one myself, but I’m starting to think it’s not worth the price.

Captain’s Log: June 18th Had to retrain Doc today. Thought he could get one over on me by turning a prisoner into a cobra. Too bad for him I was quick enough to shield my arm with Armament Haki. I think a long seawater bath will set him straight. Maybe break his leg, too, as a long-term reminder.

Doc really should be more grateful; it’s a win-win situation. We’re not killing or selling wild animals anymore, so his conservation work continues. And with all the fur, meat, and product we get out of it, we’re quickly getting filthy rich!

Captain’s Log: August 3rd Today was a huge score! We came across a lifeboat full of refugees. They were just floating there, helpless, packed in like sardines. Apparently, they’d been out there for days after their ship was attacked by a Sea King. We brought them aboard and promised we’d take them to the next island and provide food and shelter. They were so fucking grateful to be rescued they didn’t even care that we were pirates. Of course, their tunes changed once we started shoving them in cages!

We set Doc to work right away. The weakling whimpered a bit, especially when it came to the kids, but hey, it’s not like we’re breaking our promise; they’ll get to the next island. Maybe not in one piece, and definitely not human, but hey, them’s the breaks, right? It’s not like anyone will miss them, anyway.

Stomach churning with disgust, Nami couldn’t bring herself to do more than skim the later entries. Going by the dates, the captain had been making a massive profit off of selling exotic animal pelts, meat, venom, and pets for nearly two years. And he’d been forcing a man who’d devoted himself to protecting animals to do it.

No wonder the old man hated pirates. Had instinctively turned the Hearts into animals; he’d probably been scared out of his mind that they’d be just like the rest, ready to abuse and exploit him again. She could certainly relate.

“Nami?” Bepo’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Are you ok? You’re whiter than I am!”

Shaking her head, she tried to give a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Any luck on the boots?”

He held up a pair of what were once very fancy snakeskin boots, except they were clearly falling apart in his paws. “Sorry; even if they were wearable, they’re a size eight. But that book’s in good shape! Think it’s something we can give the old man?” he asked excitedly.

Swallowing hard, Nami stared at the leather journal. “No. I don’t think he’d want to read this.” If Arlong had ever kept a journal detailing all the awful things he’d done to exploit her, she’d much rather see it burn.

The Mink’s ears drooped at her answer. “Nami, what are we going to do if we can’t get the supplies we need for the trade?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? They needed those things to free the crew and get them turned back into humans. But everything on board was garbage at best. They needed some kind of solution, otherwise Law and the rest of the Hearts could give up any dreams of sailing the Grand Line, much less finding the One Piece.

What would Luffy do in this kind of situation?

The answer was so obvious, she nearly laughed.

“We’ll give him supplies from the Tang.”

Bepo’s black, button-like eyes widened as his jaw dropped in disbelief. “What?!”

“He’s not asking much; just basic amenities. We can get some pots and pans from the galley. Law wears a size ten—we’ll give him a pair of his boots. There’s gotta be spare blankets, and the library has tons of books we can give him. Hell, according to this,” she said, holding up the journal, “he was a conservationist; maybe he’d like that encyclopedia set by Dr. Monroe.”

Twiddling his claws nervously, Bepo cautioned, “Law’s not going to like giving the guy who turned him into a leopard any of our stuff.”

“Well, if Law wants to be human again, he’ll have to deal with it. We’ve got plenty of cash to replace them. Hell, if antivenom goes for as much as you say, we’ll be making a profit from this trip, so it evens out. We’re not giving him anything we can’t easily replace on Atifakuto.”

He blinked, surprised at her determination. “You know, I always heard you were greedy and didn’t like spending even a single belli on anyone but yourself. But you’re being surprisingly generous.”

A deep, melancholy frown marred her beautiful face as she stared down at the journal. “That old man…he was a prisoner. His powers—his passion—was exploited by pirates for years. He was abused, tortured, forced to turn innocent people into animals to be sold or slaughtered…” A knot formed in her throat, but she stubbornly swallowed it down. “If all he wants is a few pots and pans and to live out his life alone, I’m willing to spend a few belli on that.”

A large paw gently patted her shoulder. “Ok. I understand,” Bepo replied sympathetically. “Should we go back to the ship?”

That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? They didn’t need to linger. They could head right back to the Tang and start administering the antivenom.

Still, she didn’t want to risk anything happening to the glass vials if the ride back got bumpy. She didn’t want to use the blanket on the captain’s bed, though; it would disturb the bird’s nest, and enough animals had suffered aboard this ship. “We’ll check the crew’s quarters for those rags, then head back. But I think we can leave the lower level alone.”

“Ok, Nami,” Bepo said, giving a reassuring smile. “Should we leave the journal?”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding the leather-bound book in a white-knuckled grip. She took a deep, steadying breath as she pried her fingers off the diary’s spine, tucking it into her knapsack. “No. We’ll give it to the old man—it’ll make good kindling.”

Knowing what kind of bastard lived in that room, Nami was more than happy to march out of the captain’s quarters onto the main deck. That man was a monster. She hoped he drowned in the storm, or got turned into something truly horrible, like a centipede, or dung beetle, or—

The sound of heavy flapping caught her attention, and Nami only just managed to duck out of the way as a pair of sharp talons attempted to rake across her face.

“Eeeek!” she cried, crossing her arms across her face defensively. She could feel heavy gusts of wind beat against her as the bird missed, swooping past to land on the deck with a heavy thump.

“Nami!” Bepo cried as he ran out, growling at the enormous black vulture that glared at them both. Its head was dark and bald, and the hazel eyes were so hatefully human there was no question that it was another transformed pirate.

“Stay out of our way,” Bepo said to it, taking a fighting stance. He wobbled slightly, the wood beneath him creaking and the slant not helping his balance, but his expression remained firm.

The vulture gave a drawn-out, hateful hissing sound as it spread its massive wings, indicating the ship.

“So you’re the captain, huh?” Bepo replied. “Well, your ship’s gross!”

Nami wanted to sigh at her friend’s terrible attempt at trash-talk, but she decided it was better to lead by example. “So, the old man turned you into a vulture, huh?” she asked, getting up and assembling her Clima-Tact. “Guess it’s fitting for a scavenger like you!”

The captain let out another hiss before taking off into the air, catching the wind and soaring above them, circling the ship as it formulated a plan.

Nami, however, wasn’t going to let that happen. “Cyclone Tempo!” she shouted, swinging her staff and launching a gust of wind at the bird. It did the trick of knocking it off-course, sending it further into the sky, but it also blasted Nami backwards with enough force to send her crashing through a rotten part of the deck floor.

She screamed as the wood splintered around her and she tumbled through the air. Luckily it wasn’t a long drop, and instead of landing on the floor she splashed into water, which was just deep enough to keep her from sustaining any major harm.

Sputtering, she stood up. The seawater reached her waist, and there were enough holes in the ceiling to let the moonlight in so she could see.

She wished she couldn’t.

Nami’s stomach turned as she took in the large room. There were cages everywhere. Many of them were broken and covered in barnacles after two months being submerged in salt water, but a few were still in decent enough shape that there was no doubt that the ship’s lower level had basically been a prison. To her left was a huge workbench covered in bone saws, knives for skinning, whips, chains, collars, and all sorts of other contraptions she didn’t care to identify.

Pirates like these reminded her why she didn’t believe people like Luffy existed for so long. They beat and tortured an old man, who just wanted to protect wildlife, for the sake of exploiting his powers. Then, they forced him to turn innocent people into animals so they could be sold as pets, skinned, or otherwise extorted.

This wasn’t right. Nami had no problem with animals being used for food or domesticated, but this was completely different, even if they hadn’t been humans first. Those pirates had gone out of their way to be cruel if the whips and chains on the wall were anything to go by.

“I’m beginning to think the old man’s inability to swim wasn’t the only reason he didn’t want to come back here,” she whispered to herself.

“Nami! Are you ok?!” Bepo called down, poking his head into the hole she’d fallen through. His eyes widened as he took in the cages, rusted saws, and chains. She could imagine that, even after two months being washed away by the brine, he could still smell lingering traces of blood and animal flesh.

When he bared his teeth in anger, Nami knew he’d managed to connect the dots of what exactly had occurred on the ship.

“I’m ok!” she assured, looking for the exit. “I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ll come down and get you!”

“Don’t risk it!” she cried, already wading towards the stairs. She could feel the rotten wood giving way beneath her with every step. “The floor can barely hold my weight, much less yours. Keep a lookout for that vulture, though!”

“Ok—” his response was cut off by a roar of pain, and through the gap between Bepo’s head and the edge of the hole Nami could see sharp talons grasping at his neck.

“Bepo!” she screamed, wading as fast as she could towards the stairs, stumbling over debris and holes and possibly even bones. She forced herself not to think about that—what mattered was getting upstairs and helping her friend!

Finally, she was able to pull herself out of the water, and the stairs cracked and broke beneath her feet as she ran up, but she didn’t care. When she got to the door at the top, she slammed her thin shoulder against it, fighting the rusty lock and hinges as they tried to keep her from the outside world. Not to be deterred, she braced herself against the corner of the stairway and unleashed another Cyclone Tempo to break them open.

The doors went flying, and Nami dashed outside in time to see the vulture take off, Bepo’s knapsack in its talons.

“No!” she screamed, futilely diving for the bird, but it was out of her reach. She was tempted to blast it down with a lightning bolt, but that would most certainly destroy the vials kept inside the bag. Another blast of wind would just push it further away, and her other attacks were useless.

As it flew towards the island, the vulture turned its bald head and gave a menacing hiss.

“What did it say?” Nami asked as she rushed to Bepo’s side. His neck and shoulders were scratched up, but his thick fur and skin had prevented them from going too deep.

“He said…he said ‘if you want the antivenom, bring us the doctor’,” he whimpered, looking confused. “But why would they want Law?”

“They don’t,” Nami replied sadly, staring at the island. “They want the old man.”

[drgamenstein]

Why I stopped  Drawing.

So I’m struggling right now to re-learn how to draw. I used to draw all the time when I was in High school, but then a teacher kind of crushed my desire to do anything creative ever again. This is that story.

When I was a Junior (16 years old), I was cleaning up my required credits to graduate, basically just taking the easy classes I didn’t care about, but was needed to graduate. One of these classes was foreign languages, which I needed two semesters of. I chose Spanish since, growing up in the south, high school Spanish is a joke. Chances are high you either know it through friends or learned it at a much younger age, and for the most part I was right. I passed every test, completed all my homework and class assignments during class and was able to fuck around and do what I wanted after that. It was basically a free period.

Thing is, apparently my teacher didn’t like that I was breezing through his class. That or he just hated me in general, probably both. By junior year, I had a reputation for being hard to control. I wasn’t a bad kid, I just didn’t care much. I spent a lot of time keeping to myself, drawing or napping, and still completed all my work. My Biology teacher once made a joke that I learned through osmosis, because even though I slept through his class, I remembered the lessons and passed. I also used this trick in English, I would listen to audiobooks at home when I went to bed and leave it on loop all night, then when I woke up I could remember the book because my dreams were influenced by it. Turns out Dexter’s Lab was spot on in terms of easy learning, I don’t know.

Anyway, this guy was a hard ass, he also worked as the school’s basketball coach, but taught Spanish in the mornings. Now because this was first period, and I had just woken up and was full of coffee, I didn’t sleep in this class, ever. I was actually probably my most attentive during this time. The teacher was a hands off kind of teacher, he would basically tell us which part of the book to study, give us a work sheet, our homework, and then tell us to group up, and learn the material. Because I was more socially reclusive then than I am now, I never paired up, instead I studied, finished the worksheet, and the homework right there. All in all it took about twenty minutes, leaving forty to do what I wanted.

The first sign of trouble, was when I was just reading one day, he asked me if I was done. I told him yes, and that I had even finished the homework too. When I proved myself, he yelled at me that homework was meant to be done at home, and that if I have free time I should work on other school work, not goof off. The next day the same thing, when I told him I had no other assignments and I had even finished his homework again to make sure I had no extra work, he told me to join a group and see if they needed help. The next day again, I was drawing this time, and he yelled at me that I wasn’t helping, when I retorted that nobody needed or wanted my help, he got more mad, asked the class to raise their hands if they needed my help and nobody did. He told me that his class wasn’t for free time, and that I needed to keep working while I was in there. Now I was in Art class at the time, so drawing did count as working in my mind, but this being a sports man, he didn’t agree, so the next day when I was drawing again, he came to my desk and told me to pull out all my drawings I had on me.

It’s also important to note here that because I had puppies I was carrying my entire portfolio with me. Everything I had drawn since 6th grade, all tucked away in my backpack to keep the dogs from tearing them up. This was SIX YEARS worth of work I had cultivated and added to. This mother fucker took all of it, looked at some of the earliest work I had done, and said I should try to find something I had talent in instead of wasting my time at something that bad. Then he confiscated it all and told me I could have it all back if I passed his final and didn’t draw or read during his class. Fuck it, fine I thought, so for the next month I just did my work, and sat quietly, when other students refused my help. at the end of the term, Spanish was one of two finals I had gotten a full 100% on, the other being English/literature. When I demanded my portfolio back, this piece of shit told me he had used it as kindling when his kids asked him to make a fire at home. When I asked him if he was serious he didn’t answer, and instead told me that it didn’t matter what he did, I was never going to make a living of my art if I had no talent, that he’d done me a favor getting rid of it, and that I needed to focus on a real career and stop goofing off with worthless hobbies.

I’ll be 26 this month, meaning that it will have been almost ten years since this all happened, and I quit drawing altogether. The idea of losing so much time and effort, and being called worthless by a teacher really stuck with me. I know that the way schools work, any extra-curriculars  not sports related are considered not worth any time, and that’s the schools fault not mine, but still. Losing so much is a huge blow no matter what. I never drew again during school. I spent the rest of Junior and senior year worried that the same thing would happen again, so I didn’t bother, and by the time I got to college and started working I didn’t have enough time to do it anymore.

So yeah, that’s the full story. Fuck I lost a lot that day, I remember one of the paintings in that folder had been adopted by a local museum for a year to showcase local artists, and had just been returned to me that year. So yeah, that’s why I want to overcome that shit, and get back into drawing regularly. If I can, I want to start doing it for a couple hours every night. If anyone reading this has any suggestions for classes, tips or tricks I can find or use, I would be very grateful. I used to only do traditional artwork, with graphite or paint, but lately I’ve been using Spray paints, and Digital art, since even though the tablet cost a lot, the cost in supplies overall is much lower. I don’t remember if I already showed off my paintings in a previous post, but for digital art I’m using Clip Studio Paint, and it’s all new to me, so yeah, any help would be appreciated if offered, but mainly this was a story I needed to get off my chest and put out there so I can move on without it weighing me down. If I could give any advice to anyone around that age, going through some shit, it would be this. Nothing that makes you happy, is a waste of time or effort.

[berri-hopefulspouse]

Okokokay, I’m awake, lemme explain this particular post because uh. It was like 2 AM when I posted it and I was hardly awake to explain it properly. I might write about the event itself in the future, but I have a LOT of projects going on rn so I need to uh. NOT SUBJECT MYSELF TO TEMPTATION. Lmao. ANYWAY. If you want the full explanation behind this post- it’ll be under the RM for the sake of not angering all of my followers :’)

TW: Internalized Manipulation, Internalized High-Expectative behavior, Suicide, also for uh. A generally Long ass fucking post. 

Basically...Ren has a secret. One they had completely forgotten about until their memory was retrieved post TTH- or rather...a few weeks following the memory retrieval. One secret that...as far as they know- they’re taking with them to their own fucking grave, rather than tell anyone what happened. 

Sure, they had a crush on Makoto. Sure, they were always too afraid to tell him how they felt- both out of fear of rejection, but for another...much more guilty reason.

See, when they ran away from home- ran away from their family...it was because they were controlling, yet neglectful. The family they “loved” never really gave them the emotional support they needed at a time when they were suffering- and in some people’s cases, only added onto it. They ran away because they were tired of being bound by their family’s stubborn expectations, and were tired of feeling like they weren’t good enough to do what everyone else was doing.

The problem was... They never truly resolved that trauma by running away. They had NO idea at the time how to do what they needed to give themselves that emotional support that they needed desperately growing up. Which of course, resulted in them taking that same sort’ve controlling, high-expectative behavior...and turning it on themselves.

Joining as many clubs as they wanted, studying late at night, getting double shifts to pay the rent of their apartment...They did everything they could to stay on top. It was a habit they didn’t know they were doing to themselves- they just saw it as being hardworking to maintain the idea that they were doing alright on their own. And of course, she- Junko- was no help to this. Manipulating them to work even harder- and that if they fall from the throne they were building for themselves, that they’ll be left alone. After all- for the first time in years, as a result...they were relatively popular. But not because of economical status, or because of beauty- or anything relatively of the sort. Because of their intelect. Their talents. Their ultimate...they were appreciated for something they could DO for others. And it was that, that gave them what they thought was the emotional support they craved since growing up- and they would be damned to let go of that now.

Ontop of this, they never really told anyone about being transmasc. They never told anyone they were AFAB. Everyone just assumed they were AMAB and nonbinary- which they agreed was fine with them. 

They were elected student council president, due to their uncanny ultimate to figure out that something was wrong with their class- and have the compassion to sit down and talk with others about it. When a student was struggling in a class, they’d either personally tutor the student or have someone they know who excels in that class tutor them. They were advocating for the luck students classes to be more personalized and catered to their talent, much like how all the other students had their classes personalized and catered to theirs. They did everything in their power to make a difference, to make an impression that they knew would never leave the class- unknowing that them just...being themselves, would’ve been more than enough. 

However...it was all too much for them. It was draining, it was exhausting, it was driving them crazy. They hardly got any sleep, they hardly had time to take care of themselves due to their various after-school activities and jobs they maintained. It was at this point they realized something was horribly, horribly wrong with the way they were living, but...that seed of internal expectations had burrowed itself too deep. Basically threatening themselves that if they couldn’t manage this- what they perceived to be a “normal” school life, albeit with some disadvantages- then they were just...weak. They HAD to keep themselves busy, because that’s how they make a difference in this world!

For being an empath...they’re terrible at taking care of themselves.

Despite themselves, they felt that sinking emptiness that they felt back home starting to return to their heart. So what do they do? Pour themselves further into their classes, their work, their social life- what little of it they maintained after class- their clubs, their student-council presidency. 

Even then, that wasn’t enough. They tried on their life. They broke under that pressure, and they have the scars to prove that. It was the first time anyone in their class knew that something much deeper resided within their class president. 

...Yet, at the time, Makoto was the only one who yelled at them for it- both out of his own naivety and his own sense of guilt.

Skip to a few months in the future- a good 2 weeks before Junko’s perceived plan would go into full effect, and a few days before the supposed fuzzy memory they’ve had in the past came into fruition. 

Makoto and Ren had been getting closer, yes. Ren wanting to learn and, as a result, be better to themselves- so they could in turn be better for their class. Makoto just wanting to help, seeing as he looked up to them.

Still, they didn’t hang out that often- both due to their own class schedules being all over the place, and Ren never having much time out of school. Sure, Kyoko would be helping pay their rent- which let them have the option to quit one of their jobs...but they still had to afford food each month, so they still kept one job- both for the experience and because they felt they had to. They didn’t want to ask the school for more help than they “needed” to.

So, when Makoto was hosting a small sleepover with several of the boys from his class- including them- they were a bit excited. Due to their business, they never really had the time to really...hang out with other people. Develop an actual social life. They never had the chance to hang out with friends outside of class, and never had the chance to do normal teen things- like sleepovers and school drama and shit. 

Naturally, of course they went. 

They had...such a fun time that night. Goofing off with the boys- even some of the more reclusive and uptight boys would eventually loosen up around Makoto. Of course- it wasn’t like usual more “Feminine” sleepovers- the boys would mostly be playing a lot of video games, eat snacks, what-have you. Makoto would try to get them to watch anime, only to be teased for it. Ren had to break up that little spat before it got out of hand- wanting just as much to protect Makoto. 

Soon enough, everyone was falling asleep. Most of the others didn’t want to sleep in Makoto’s room themselves- saying that was too “gay” for them-- Only to get ribbed at by Ren as a result, despite what they tell themselves about being a straight enby (a contradictory statement in and of itself). So, Ren, wanting to prove a point to them, decided they’d stay with Makoto. Unaware of how flustered they were at the thought, Makoto headed back to his room with them in tow- ignoring how the boys were calling out various...unsavory one-liners. (Much to his dismay, seeing as Makoto would eventually have to drag Ren by the arm- lest they start an actual fight in his house, his parent’s would fucking END him, Ren stop it--)

At the very least, it was calmer. The two sat, talked for hours, goofing off and watching anime until close to 1 AM. By then, they’re still watching anime through his laptop- Makoto braiding their hair out of their eyes so its easier for them to see. 

This entire night, they’ve just been feeling so...so flustered around him. So flustered, so confused. They just want to do something about the feeling, they want to understand what it is they’re feeling...this feeling that they’ve felt since they first met him- and has only intensified over time...has intensified over the course of the night. 

So, they do something impulsive. They do something they didn’t think they KNEW they were doing until they did so. They kiss him- genuinely and caringly. Its then they did realize how they felt- someone not so straight, not so ‘perfect’...and for that brief moment it was okay. For that brief moment, being perceived as who they actually are...was okay. 

And then that moment was broken, hearing a knock on their window- one of the boys had gone to investigate what was going on, and was peering through the window. 

And that sudden panic, that fear of losing what they have- of losing the respect of their class...it held its grip on their heart. They start freaking out, mumbling to themselves about how they were going to be made fun of. Makoto tries to calm them down, tell them its okay- that it’s fine- trying to insinuate that he kinda felt the same way.

But, they leave. They flee with one last final word to him; 

“...You don’t even know.”

A message to themselves- about what they know about love- and to him...that he doesn’t know what would happen if they loose that social status. 

...The following day, they pour their heart out to Junko. They explain everything that happened- and they’re told of the device that can wipe memories. That can, essentially, erase the past. Of course they’re reluctant- their good morals and goody-two-shoes nature makes them hesitant. But, when she reminds them of what would happen once rumors starts to spread... They agree its for the best. That no one else should remember what happened that night. But to ONLY erase that night. 

...Little did they know, that a few weeks down the line, there would be so, so much more erased than a single night. 

So, by Monday, everyone has seemingly forgotten the whole event. They swore to themselves that day to never tell anyone- especially him- about what happened...both because of the event itself...but because of if he found out what they did following it- they didn’t know if he’d ever forgive them.

Losing their social status...losing that emotional support from their class...at the time; nothing else was worth it. Nothing else; even love. 

After all, they’re expected to be little mx. perfect. 

When their memories are finally retrieved... Or rather- the weeks following it, as an after-effect- they remember the whole event. That guilt they carried with them about what Junko did to them only multiplies when they remember their other massive, massive mistake. Sure, things turned out well in the end- they’re with Makoto, everything is getting better... He’s shown that even through their past- he’d be there for them...but even so, they can’t tell him.

It’s a secret they’re taking with them to their grave. And with any hope, that’s exactly how they hope it’ll stay.

...And they forget, that just as well for everyone else, the procedure had brought back all their school memories, as well.

Makoto won’t...say anything on the matter- knowing how their anxious self might react. If they want to tell him, they will. But if not...it’s a secret for their past self to keep, forever. 

...It definitely does explain some of their behaviors though, now that he does think about it. 

[darcyholland]

hello !!!! i’m sara and this here is your resident people pleaser mr. darcy! below you'll find some more abt him <3

[ MILES HEIZER, HE/HIM, CIS MALE ] | [ DARCY WILLIAM HOLLAND ] just threw their bags into the car. With [ THE CHAIN BY FLEETWOOD MAC ] and the AC blasting, they depart [ BOSTON, MA ] with an [ ICED MOCHA ] in their hand. Off to see their high school friends who know them as [ DARCY ] when they’re really [ THE PEOPLE PLEASER ] now. The past five years, they’ve been [ ASSISTANT TEACHING AND LEARNING NEW LANGUAGES ] and it’s been pretty [ REWARDING ]. A few of the other pact members might be surprised by [ FAILED NEW HAIRSTYLE EXPERIMENTS, HANGING OUT WITH THE DOG AT A PARTY, WEARING EXCLUSIVELY RIPPED JEANS ].

everything i’ve written about him can be found on this page, and here’s a stats page with other random things, but here is pretty much a summary !!

darcy was always a little more optimistic than was necessary, especially in his early years. he always liked to assume the best of people in any given situation. looking back on his childhood, darcy was always the first to make an excuse for fiona not being around, or to suggest a solution to a problem before it could become a bigger one (no matter how bad of a suggestion it was). from the very beginning, all darcy wanted to do was help.

this stemmed from how shy he was as a kid. his sister or hannah were always there to make him feel safe, and darcy found himself wanting to give that back throughout his life. he gained more confidence as he got older and would always stand up for the people he cared about. he learned to stand tall and be a support for others in the same way others had been for him.

darcy was always just Kind Of good at a lot of things, and not Exceptionally Good at any one specific thing. so he never really knew what he wanted to do with his life. he even took a gap year after high school just to continue trying to figure it out. he had been going to therapy on and off since hannah had left, and his therapist was the one to turn him toward special education. it made sense, because helping people was what darcy wanted to do most. and he hasn’t looked back.

little tidbits n things

darcy loves real hard. he will do anything 4 his friends. especially that circle of people from high school, because while they may have been a little dysfunctional at times, they were always familiar.

he’s fluent in ASL thanks to his minor in deaf studies!

he has a rescue pup named ferris, after his favorite movie.

he’s grown to be a bit more of a realist than an optimist, but he still chooses to see the good in most situations. he tries to turn bad times into learning experiences and things like that.

he apologizes way too often. he also rolls his eyes a lot without realizing it, and drives way too fast.

he absolutely loves to watch football but has never and will never pick one up. he might kick your ass at baseball, though.

for all of his calm, understanding qualities, he can still be a bit impatient. which is why he drives too fast. please don’t get in a car with darcy, ty.

he can sort of switch his sociability on and off. when he’s around people he loves, he’s naturally very open. when it’s an unfamiliar crowd/space, he can still be pretty out there and social, but then he’ll become a recluse once he gets home to chill out.

i would love to plot with everybody so slide into my dms or discord and let’s do it :)