#not a full fledged thing but some kind of oneshot

[caretaker-of-the-toys-au]

I'm curious: If the Caretaker, Celestia, and Devin were critters and the critters were humans, what do you think they would look like, and how would they of met?

I'm normal-

Oh, interesting idea!!

I would draw it but I've got a lot on my plate with art right now so I'll just answer in a block text:

Dogday would definitely be a preppy kid. Slacks and a letterman jacket. He's absolutely a ginger and has freckles. His pendant would be in the form of a necklace.

Catnap is a hoodie kid, black jeans and a choker with a moon. I see him having longer hair? Almost like it's mimicking a tail.

Crafty would be the maxi-skirt and croptop combo for sure. Her hair is braided down her back, it'd still be blue, and she'd keep her flower hairpin.

Bobby is a sweater person. Not just a sweater but one with a heart over her chest! That's where her pendant is. Chubby, brown hair and big old brown eyes so full of love it.

Hoppy is all for racer back tanks and shorts. Probably a pixie cut or something even short, her hair would be in her face too much otherwise. She'd still keep her single ear piercing.

Kickin' would match Hoppy, except a baggy t-shirt and shorts. His bandana is a must! He likes his hair really long, it makes him feel cool so he refuses to cut it past shoulder length.

Bubba... Hmm... He's a bit more complicated. Cardigan for sure, same with the lightbulb broach he has. Glasses too. He keeps a backpack with him with a first-aid kit and maybe a few snacks. He's just ready for anything. I think he'd wear polos too, only polos or button up shirts.

Picky would be all in general neutral. Not because she's enby or anything, she just doesn't care. She'd have longer hair, definitely blonde, and she'd keep it in a bun. I can see her tying off her shirts in a knot on her hip and wearing jeans.

Sunny and Moon would be either babies or actual pets.

How would the MC, Celestia, and Devin meet the kids? They'd be made for the kids!

MC, with how I depict them, would probably be designed a lot like Bobby is in canon, just a bit bigger. Their symbol would probably be a hand, a green one!

Celestia would be.... I can see her being a turtle or something. Her symbol would be a butterfly, I think. Sometimes she gives me Garnet vibes and that's just what I think about when I think of her.

Devin's a wolf, absolutely. Namely because of his origins in general, not necessarily here in the fanfic. His symbol would be a rose.

I think they'd get along well with the kids too. It would probably be the kids working to save them and trying to get them out of the factory, maybe even actually managing it!

That would be an interesting AU....

[wandering-writing-waffles]

His Most Prized Possession

Rating: E for everyone

Word Count: 819

Relationships: Darth Maul x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Mentions of blood, implied romance, implied kidnapping

Notes: Hello there! So this is just a quick lil oneshot I wrote a while back but kind of want to make into a full-fledged fic???? Idk, I may continue this and may not. I would certainly like to! But hey! I hope you enjoy what I have so far!

Summary: Maul had only ever loved one thing in his life, and that was you... But one day when he came home and all he could find of you was a small trinket of yours lying dormant in the doorway, he knew there could only be one explanation... You had been taken... Taken right out from under his nose! Heart filled with a newfound rage, he vows to scour the galaxy looking for you wherever he can. He will do anything to get you back.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Maul felt the heat of the blade lightly graze the center of his chest. On a regular occasion, he wouldn’t have paid any mind. His body was littered with scars and scratches after all. Years of fighting for survival had left their mark in the form of nasty raised abrasions all across his body. But this… this was different. It wasn’t just his body that was at stake this time.

He lifted his hand up to examine the area at which the blade seethed his flesh and to his dismay, it was gone. All that was left in its place were burnt, broken tethers from where it once laid.

He quickly tilted his head back upwards, towards this so-called attacker whom he assumed was just some insignificant bounty hunter from some insignificant little planet looking for a quick and easy score. Oh was he mistaken…

Maul seethed at that thought, a newfound, burning rage beginning to build up in his core, ready to burst at any moment. ‘What a pathetic waste of time,’ he thought to himself.

The attacker went rigid. His eyes widened in a fearful stupor as he made contact with Maul’s piercing golden gaze. The sweat at his temple began to pool and drip down his now furrowed brow bone and Maul could see his hands and the pinprick tips of his blue lekku start to tremble.

Maul snarled in response, not feeling the slightest bit of empathy. As far as he was concerned, no one messed with his belongings and no one wastes his time.

Without hesitation, he leaped forward, eyes fixated on the young twi’lek who had unknowingly just sealed his fate.

The man jumped back in response, but it was too late. Lightsaber drawn, Maul slashed right at the center of his torso, effectively severing his cobalt body in half.

Maul’s senses were immediately filled with the smell of burning flesh, followed by a loud shriek and the sound of the assailant’s body plummeting against the floor. His breathing hitched in response, eyes trained on the man’s chest, making sure there was no longer breath in his body.

When he was certain he let out a scoff, quickly sheathing his lightsaber and turning around on the heel of his foot.

‘Where is it?!’ Maul internally cried. He began searching the area, desperate to find what had fallen. But the muck-stained floors of the alley were making it difficult to search. He became more desperate, removing his gloves and falling to his hands and knees to dig through the thick grime. He only found relief when he felt his fingers lightly brush against a small, cold object.

Quickly looping his finger around the base he pulled it out, taking care to brush off the dirt that it had picked up before resting the object in the palm of his hand.

There it was… His prize.

Maul smiled warmly down at the object as it gleamed against the dimmed light. His twin hearts rested, and he felt calm once more. For this trinket sitting in his hand wasn’t just any old thing. No… It was much more than that. It was a ring. But not just any ring. In fact, it didn't even belong to him. Its true owner, although indeed rare, was someone whom Maul had held and still holds in the highest regard…

For it belonged to you… His beloved… His whole world… His starlight…

Maul’s grip tightened as he held the gleaming ring in his hand, memories flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of his love for you who had been so cruelly taken from him. The ring symbolized your bond, a promise you had made to each other in happier times. It was a token of your unwavering devotion, an unbreakable vow etched into its delicate design.

Crafted from a metal found only in the deepest crevices of his homeworld, the ring radiated an otherworldly brilliance. Its intricate carvings depicted your intertwined destinies, your love story eternally etched into the precious metal.

To Maul, the ring represented hope in the darkest of times, a tangible connection to the one person who had breathed life into his scarred soul. Whenever he felt lost, his fingers would trace the contours of the ring, seeking solace in its presence. It was a symbol of his unwavering determination to find you and reunite with the one who had captured his hearts.

As he clenched the ring tightly, Maul's resolve solidified. Your trail… His beloved’s trail would not go cold. He would stop at nothing, traverse galaxies, and face any adversary to reclaim what had been stolen from him. With the ring as his guiding light, Maul embarked on a relentless quest, a love-driven odyssey to rescue you and restore your shattered bond.

For you, he would do anything. And that was what he was going to do.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the read! I know it was short but it means so much to me! Let me know if I should continue it and if you have any pointers for where it should go if I do! Thank you again! Chow!

-Waffles XOXO

[r2d2lover]

A Court Of Lies Pt. 1

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: T+

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none. it's a fluffy fake dating jealous prankster Sebastian scenario with teensy suggestive dialogue

Summary:

"That is the thing, you see..." You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "I kind of panicked and said that... That I was already going with you."

"Oh! Well. I'm perfectly fine with this revelation," Sebastian said, a devious smirk forming across his lips.

---

Fluffy teensy suggestive reader insert oneshot inspired by an audio story by TikTok user @/sebastianandmc. The conversation and storyline credits go to that user and I was given permission to turn their story "Fake Courting" into a full fledged fic. Also game dialogue is taken.

Link to original TikTok: Part 1- https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRoKhbna/ Part 2- https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRoKB4EA/

Crossposted on Ao3

From the first time you beat Natty in Summoner's Court on your first day of Charm's class, you did anything to chase the high of winning on the court. Word quickly spread of your "prowess" in the game and your classmates lined up to take you down. One particular afternoon in the middle of fall, while you were on your way to the Quidditch Pitch to practice with Imelda, you were stopped at the court by an unsuspecting peer: Leander Prewett. He waved you over and you decided that Imelda could wait a little while longer since you only needed 10 minutes to beat Leander.

"What are you doing out here?" You asked, trying to make light conversation.

"Challenging you to a game of Summoner's Court," Leander said like it was the obvious thing ever. You tried to hide your eye roll. You really didn't care for his haughty nature, which made you all the more excited to beat him in Summoner's Court. He continued his proud speech. "I think it's time you faced a real opponent - outside of Ronan's little lesson in Charms class. Summoner's Court isn't just a game; it's a battle of skill, a test of a witch or wizard's mettle. What say?"

"Oh, I know it's not just a game. I'm in. Let's do it," You said, ready to make quick work of the Gryffindor boy. Leander was a showy player, making seemingly suggestive comments about how the movement was "all in the wrist" despite barely being able to pull the ball to the 50 point line. You surprised yourself by beating the poor boy in 5 minutes, instead of the 10 that you allotted. Leander was absolutely flabbergasted and attempted to save his ego by taking a blow at yours with comments about luck before steadying himself. Something in his entire demeanor changed.

"I- Er, I apologize for what I said about luck. It was a good game. But I was wondering..." Leander trailed off, his usual cocky persona gone. He looked like he was giving himself a pep talk in his head. "I was wondering if you'd accompany me to the fall festival happening in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

You stepped back a little bit, absolutely stunned at his proposal. You had no real problems with Leander, but his arrogance left little to be desired. You quickly thought of a way out that didn't hurt his feelings because you didn't want him to plot some revenge plan with Garreth.

"I'm sorry, Leander. I'm already accompanying someone else," You said in a less than confident voice. Leander raised his eyebrows, seeing through your lie.

"Oh? And who would that be?" Leander pressed, obviously not used to being turned down.

"Sebastian," You said sheepishly, but you could see that he didn't believe you. "I... It wouldn't be appropriate to go with someone else, seeing that we are courting."

The words left your mouth before you had a chance to think. You silently cursed yourself, knowing that the word would spread quickly the second you left the court.

"You? And Sallow? Ah, very well. Shame, really. I hope to see you at the festival, anyways," Leander said disappointedly, still not entirely convinced. You thanked him for the game again and fled to your room to write Sebastian an owl telling him to meet you in the Viaduct Courtyard immediately following lunch. You also sent a Imelda an apology owl for missing practice, leaving the details about Leander out.

---

At lunch, you watched in mortification as Leander recalled the events that happened earlier to the rest of the Gryffindors, who kept staring at you non-discretely. You had to find Sebastian before Cressida and Garreth spread about your business. You didn't want to risk ruining your budding friendship with Sebastian over a silly rumor that you made up to cover yourself. Sebastian was a relatively hard nut to crack. He had snuck you into the Restricted Section and surprisingly took the fall for you when you both were caught, and he had even taught you how to cast Confringo.

At the same time, he'd ignore you in the halls and if he did talk to you, it was to tease you mercilessly about whatever it was he could come up with. You couldn't deny that those were your favorite moments with him, relishing in the opportunities that you had to spend time with him and fire back something equally sarcastic. If you didn't know better, you'd admit that you had a crush on the Slytherin, but something told you that he was bad news. 

You barely touched any of your food and instead, ran out to the Viaduct Courtyard to meet Sebastian. To your relief, he was already out there, nose buried in a book about "protection charms." He heard your frantic footsteps approaching him and dogeared the page that he on, looking up at you.

"I got here as soon as I received your owl. Sounded urgent," Sebastian said, curiosity shimmering in his eyes. His tone quickly turned concerned. "What's the problem? Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes. I'm fine," You assured him, unsure how to break the news to him. "It's more... awkward than anything honestly."

"I'm intrigued. Go on," Sebastian raised his eyebrows. He invited you to sit next to him on the bench and you obliged, hoping that the blush creeping across your cheeks wasn't noticeable.

"Well... you see..." You cleared your throat as Sebastian leaned in closer, absolutely excited. "Leander asked me if I would be his date for the upcoming fall festival in Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Leander? Asked you?" Sebastian asked bewildered. You smacked him playfully in the chest for sounding so surprised.

"Surprisingly, yes. Caught me off guard really."

"And what did you say?"

"That is the thing, you see..." You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "I kind of panicked and said that... That I was already going with… you."

"Oh! Well. I'm perfectly fine with this revelation," Sebastian said, a devious smirk forming across his lips. You couldn't deny your relief and fluttering excitement at his answer.

"Sebastian-" You began, but was cut off by the equally excited Slytherin boy.

"Is that all? Don't know why you were so worried about it," Sebastian shrugged, attempting to open his book again.

"And I might have also added that we are courting," You blurted.

“What?” Sebastian froze, letting his book fall shut.

"It slipped out!” You defended. “He was being a bit pushy and I wanted him off my back about it."

"Oh.. Hmm..." Sebastian said, scratching the back of his neck. You nervously but your lip, unable to read his expression. 

"Don't worry," You said quickly. "This is my problem. I never meant to drag you into it this far."

"Oh, this isn't a problem at all," Sebastian laughed, eyes narrowing with a certain mischief. "I'd call it more of an... opportunity."

"Whatever do you mean?" You asked curiously. Sebastian clapped his hands together, ready to reveal his big plan.

"I've been waiting for a way to piss off Leander. And this. This is the perfect chance!"

"Let me get this right," You said, frowning a bit. "You want to piss him off by actually taking me to the festival?"

"Oh, most definitely," Sebastian exclaimed, throwing an arm around you. At this point, other students were leaving the Great Hall to return to their afternoon classes. There was no hiding from the courting rumors now. "We are going shopping at Gladrags tomorrow. You will look so gorgeous with me during the festival that Leander might just snap his wand. Now, shall we go to Charms class... darling?"

Sebastian stood up with a pleased look on his face and extended his hand out for your taking. Your heart raced at his use of a pet name. You thought that telling Sebastian would put you at ease at bit, but if anything, it made you more nervous. You hesitantly interlaced your fingers with his, pleasantly surprised at how warm his hands were. Sebastian looked like he was brewing up more ideas in his head as he dragged you to the Charms classroom, hand firmly locked into yours.

Merlin's beard. What have you started?

Part 2

[thekuraning]

fic writing asks : 17 and 27, 28?

hope you’re doing well!! I’m just about to finally catch up with the latest chapter of moving on in a maelstrom (I haven’t checked my ao3 inbox for updates in a hot minute!!), thank you as ever for writing!

WASABI THANK YOU FOR SENDING im hanging in there i hope youre doing good too <3 and i hope you enjoy the latest chapter grelhbqughoeiqg

:') i talk a lot gomen

17. talk about your writing and editing process

so i'm definitely not the kind of person who sits down and outlines their story and all the plot points or does a ton of planning (kind of a bad habit probably!!) and mostly my fics comes from some broad concepts or ideas, vibes, or any sort of vivid scene I imagine up while im daydreaming on the way to work, and then I just kind of run with it. Actually I think from all the fics I've actually tried to follow an outline for in the past, only one has gotten past a handful of chapters (that would be Turning Point, which is shockingly complete!)

And like the scenes or vibes or ideas aren't always related to major plot points or anything either, they're just character moments and either a) do not need backstory to explain the situation, so they get to be a oneshot, or b) are VERY PARTICULAR about the backstory of the Scene and then they end up a full-fledged novella/novel/epic.

So like for example, I started on Maelstrom fic for a very specific scene with a very specific character--and you might expect it to be related to the main villain! Except I didn't even have a design for him until the day I sat down to write chapter 5 (which came to me in a caffeine-fueled fever dream) and wasn't even sure what his NEXT ability would be until chapter 8. Yeah he's the main antagonist. But this entire fic. This entire damn fic. Is a stepping stone. To a scene where Yuri is going insane under house arrest and Barnaby goes to visit him. And it's the funniest fucking thing in my head. Like I want to be so clear this is just an elaborate slide puzzle to a one-paragraph gag and I have no idea if the set-up is even worth it. But then once I get started writing things kind of start to fall into place like dominoes because I spend a lot of time overthinking the world building and the canon orz

Anyways as for editing uhhhh well!!! You have probably noticed!! I have SO MANY TYPOS IN MY CHAPTERS!!! My cat hears me say so many swears after chapters are posted :( I tend to be like constantly reading and rereading and editing... the first half of a chapter. The further I go the more excited I get to post! And the less I end up reading. So uhhh yeah if anyone ever goes back to read any fic I've ever posted EVER and you're like huh I don't remember that or huh I thought it was different yeah. yeah it was. I edited it 3 months later when I reread part and realized I had 15 typos, non-sequitors, and the worst sentence composition known to man OTL

27. your favorite part of the writing process

getting experimental with it! :') i like fucking around with imagery and description and pacing to try and see what kind of vibes i can squeeze out of something. actually i forget how long ago it was but i think my buddy isleofair sent an ask once where I went on a rant about what makes a slow burn a slow burn and ever since then I've REALLY wanted to try and write a slow burn that diagetically takes place in like. one or two hours. i have no idea how it would work but i think it would be really fun to try.

otherwise i think my favorite thing is like world building but through the little background details, like trying to squish in regional dialects or brands or in-universe entertainment franchises. I was really fucking proud of myself for Barnaby's Gatorade ad reel and his promotional coffee in Maelstrom lmfaooo or like getting so fucky with Proton's slang in my pokemon fics. Still trying to figure out how to write an entire oneshot about no one understanding what he means when he says "freezycaff."

28. your least favorite part of the writing process

>:( what do you MEAN I have to have a coherent plot!!! What do you MEAN I should probably plan to avoid plotholes!!! What do you MEAN i have to write through writer's block or take breaks when I burn out creatively!!!!! NO STOPPING ONLY VIBES ONLY GOOFS AND GAFFS!!! ONLY FICS!!!

On a more serious note. My least favorite part really is since I don't do a lot of planning beforehand :( sometimes all I got be them vibes, and getting from point a to point b can be like pulling teeth if I'm not like. manic. A lot of times I feel like I have a big picture with a lot of missing little pieces, and sometrimes I just can't figure out a satisfying way to get over it. Then the perma-hiatus hammer comes out UmU RIP in pepperonis dead fics from 2018.

Thank u again for sending!! <3

[deliciouskeys]

13 for the OTP thing

13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. From the soft OTP prompts.

I am so late in answering this, Anon-who-may-not-even-see-this, mostly because I’ve been wanting to write a full-fledged answer to this prompt but kept getting stumped by how to approach it, and had at least four different ideas:

February 22

I don’t think I’m alone in thinking HL’s fake birthday in the show is Feb 22 as per the Boys Twitter account post that he shares a birthday with George Washington. This would mean they scheduled it during the post-Christmas doldrums and nothing good on TV and not great weather, and not on the Fourth of July when every red blooded American is going to be sitting under the stars watching fireworks after a barbecue. I wouldn’t put it past them to air the special on the President’s Day Monday and not even the 22nd every year.

I wanted to write Billy watching one of the inane birthday specials in his sad apartment, drinking and scoffing and talking to himself like a sad old man, and then HL suddenly drops by and Billy’s all “whoa, I thought they aired these things live!” and HL’s all “yeah well after what happened last year they recorded it ahead 😒”, and Billy’s about to say something snarky but thinks better of it when HL is clearly here and down to fuck. They’re in a messed up enemies with benefits relationship in this version.

Fourth of July

If we follow comicsverse and the resultant wiki article, HL’s birthday is on Independence Day. Billy is having a good time at MM’s barbecue on some NYC roofdeck (he has custody of Janine on holidays), the rest of the Boys are there too, Frenchie is criticizing MM’s grilling and burger assembly techniques, Kimiko is assembling kebabs a little too aggressively, Hughie and Annie are drinking Trulys. Suddenly HL literally drops in. People on neighboring roof decks are going nuts, super pumped. The Boys are all ashen faced except maybe Kimiko who’s unfazed, and Janine is pretty enthused, and none of them want to traumatize her if at all possible, so MM is silently pleading with Billy not to escalate the situation. But Billy’s like “wtf you doing here cunt 😡” and HL’s like “First of allllllll, I’m allowed to be here” and Billy tries to object that no one invited him, but Janine’s already asking for an autograph and MM has to keep it together. And then HL is like “Also it’s my birthday, so I’d please like you all to sing happy birthday to me” and Annie’s eyes are shooting daggers because srsly, again with this stupid powerplay?? But MM is pleading with Billy to try not to turn this into a scene, and Frenchie seems down for absolutely no reason, so they all sing, pretty badly and hesitantly, and Billy distinctly says “dear supe cunt” but they do finish it out, and Billy’s dismayed that HL is maybe touched for real. And then they have a really uncomfortable remainder of a barbecue where HL plays up his aw shucks persona to Janine, and Billy is seething, but Frenchie and Hughie are kind of impressed that HL can char corn on the cob with his eyes better than the grill. They’re all very relieved when he has to leave to film his special though.

Billy’s birthday

Another enemies-with-benefits scenario. I assume Billy never does anything to mark his birthday, and figures no one knows it, but HL gets Vought Analytics to sniff it out. Billy’s hanging out in his apartment like any normal night when HL shows up with some super fancy Japanese-French bakery small cake with candles on it, and Billy bursts out laughing because it’s pretty incongruous, but then he also gets really angry, because he remembers the last person who made him a cake was Becca before 2012, and it was the exact opposite of this, homemade and kind of lopsided and the writing with icing was a mess because cake decoration wasn’t her forte. And it’s really sad and never mind I would never write this, definitely not as a oneshot 😢

HL’s real birthday

I might actually include this in my mpreg fic. I want HL’s actual birthday to be some random day in spring like they say in the show, maybe May, and for Billy to find out the real date from some godforsaken secret document from the 80s during the massive FBI investigation of all of Vought’s files. It’s something HL never found out for himself, so this piece of intel is like a gift in itself.

[thedawningofthehour]

Do you have an entire plot for the story written out already? Because you update quite frequently but I can’t bring myself to continue some stories. Any tips?

It's not written out, but yes I know roughly what's going to happen and have the major climaxes plotted out. Though I'm sure more stuff will occur to me as I write and the whole thing will grow-that's how it always is.

So part of the reason the update 'schedule' for Book 1 was so insane was because I legit had like a third of the story written out before I even thought about posting it. I had almost all of Donnie's Table Content done and I had written up through the point where the fam finds Donnie's battle shell. (there will forever be a stutter in my mind at the beginning of ch 8 because that's where I stopped writing for a while to polish up the first few chapters and post) And I kept writing on even as I had several chapters ready to be posted because my brain was still thinking of stuff. I did run out of this buffer eventually-I'm trying to build it back up because I liked having several chapters written out at a time and able to move stuff around as needed. But those times where there were literally three or four days between chapters? Those chapters were already done. I was just trying to space them out.

Also, keep something in mind. I am a childless adult who is currently unemployed. I'm not in school. I'm not dating. I'm actually kind of agoraphobic and rarely leave my house. I really don't have much else to do. A lot of you seem to be high school or college students, and I'd wager that many of you have part-time jobs as well. You guys are busy. You do not have the time to write this much. That's not a moral failing, that's just life.

So I'm probably not the person to ask about powering through writing when you're not feeling it. I'm awful at that. I mean, you do have to do it to some extent when you're a writer, but I drag my feet so much. One thing I'd do though, is ask yourself where your problem is. Are you just getting bored after a certain amount of time? It's possible long-form just isn't your thing.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Some authors write twenty book series and keep revisiting their universe throughout their entire career. Some of them think up a story idea, bang out a novella or short story, and move onto the next one. If you find yourself dropping stories a lot, you might just be the latter. That's fine! Just know your limits. If you know the story will only hold your interest for a few chapters, maybe try limiting yourself to shorter fics or oneshots. Or if you have an idea that would work way better long-form, maybe collab with another author or get a beta reader? I've never done either, but they seem to help a lot of authors get their wheel unstuck when it's down in a hole.

Another thing that I do-I don't post every story idea I have. I have many, many fragments of stories in my Google Docs that I began, wrote a few thousand words, and got bored with. That is how doth started. I had the idea of Donnie being a little shit to Draxum while in a very obvious "I'm fucked" position and just started writing that for fun. I was not planning on posting it. It was only after I kept writing and more and more ideas occurred to me that I realized I was onto something. This has generally been what's happened for most of my fics. Not every idea you have needs to be a full-fledged story. It is absolutely fine to get bored with a concept and leave it in your Docs folder. It's like pruning a tree-sometimes you need to cut away the unhealthy, broken branches in order for the good stuff to grow.

[citrusici]

director's commentary for stygian ringlet??? 👀👀👀

OH BOY WHERE TO EVEN START

jesus christ this fic is easily the longest fic I've written to date. If you count Ghost of Mementos, it's OVER 70K WORDS TOTAL. AND IT'S STILL GOING. I've never written anything so long before. THIS THING STARTED AS A ONESHOT AND IT JUST E X P L O D E D

Actually this whole fic started after I was looking around on AO3 for PT Minato fics, and while I was bored during class I doodled what I thought Yu and Minato's masks would look like. I wanted their outfits to have some meaning to them beyond the surface-level aesthetics. Yu's outfit didn't get very far, but Minato… holy shit, once I based it off of Ryoji's outfit, it was off to the races. I immediately thought about how that awakening scene would go. and then I made a rough snippet of said scene. and then thought about how they would get up to that point and then before I knew it whoops I had a half completed fic

and then I finished and posted said fic

and then I noticed I still had some ideas left over for what happens later on

and I thought

"why NOT keep going, im having fun and the worst that can happen is I fall out of it, unfinished fics are better than no fic"

and that is how I found myself writing a longfic.

ANYWAY

my whole line of thinking for PT Minato was that I kept thinking about how Minato would bond with the PTs and how he would end up being a full fledged PT himself, because honestly that would make a prime opportunity for some really interesting character development. Minato had originally accepted the price of sealing Nyx at the end of P3, but after somehow accidentally falling back into reality and hanging out with the PTs for a while, he'd probably start to wonder if its ok to want things to be better than they turned out. his rebellion is the fact that he wants to live even though he's not supposed to. He's rebelling against his original fate, and his persona is the very person who fought against his true nature as DEATH INCARNATE just to be his friend. MAN. He'd fit right in with the PTs. (I still have feelings over these two dont mind me)

I was a little worried the whole amnesia trope would be a little dumb or dragged out too long, but it turned out to be fine. I mostly used it for plot regulation, bc I wanted him to have time to learn more about them at the same time as they're learning about him. He probably wouldn't have had a good reason to stick around long enough to bond with them otherwise. Kind of like Sophia, now that I think about it.

I've also learned a lot doing this?? outlining is a GODSEND why the hell wasn't I making bullet point lists before this

uhhhh I cant think of anything else off the top of my head, except that maybe chapters 10 and 12 were my favorites to write so far, though its real hard to pick a favorite

also if you want to see the notebook lecture doodles that spawned this entire brainrot circus here they are, some masks and a chat icon

(kinda wanna make a royal-style character art with him holding his mask but that's self-indulgent art for another day)

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

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                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 

[weekend-whip]

Hi, I just would love to say I LOVE your work! It's really well-written and one of my most favorite things to read! I'm a bit curious about how you stayed committed in one project for so long... I've had various multi-chaptered works I posted (and some lying around in the drafts for a long while), but every time i encounter a problem i immediately feel uninspired to post and i immediately tank it. And since I'm doing another multi-chapter fic, I'm scared that I'd abandon it easily. I was wondering how you'd manage to keep on comiting to your own project?

Thank you for the kind words!! 

I have to confess, I’m also extremely guilty of abandoning a project partway through. It’s already happened three times in the recent past for other fandoms (and two of those three times were quite literally smack in the very MIDDLE of the projects as well). One day I’ll go back to them. One day. 

But with this work? It just means too much to me to just up and quit on it (insert ninja never quit quote here). And I’ve gotten stuck plenty of times as well (Chapter 17, Chapter 23, Chapter 28, and Chapter 35 already jump out in particular ghhhhh) but when that happens, I’ve done a variety of things to try and keep the momentum flowing:

Comb back through Notes: Double check to make sure things are still on track in the way you want them to. There’s been countless times I’ve gotten on a writing roll and accidentally write myself into a hole, only to realize it’s because I skipped over something I should have included earlier, or I took too much time on a scene and I have to reign it in to make room for something else. Other times what I had in my original notes doesn’t fit with my vision anymore, and I have to do some reworking there. Or there’s not enough information/context supplied and I have to add in something. Either way, writing out even the barest thing of a plot thread (even if you hate outlines) can help you determine what you should be doing with your story next. 

Read/write other fics/stories. Sometimes my issue is that I’ve stepped away from writing for too long (as I get stupid busy) and it’s not so much that I “forget” how to write, but it can be a little difficult getting back into my “writing voice” and then everything starts to come up bland. By rereading other fics, you can find new inspiration, start to get a mental “language” of how to want to phrase things or describe scenes, a reminder of how to progress with dialogue. etc...basically, for me, it helps me picture my story after days of not really thinking about it, or helps me get a handle of how I want my story to flow. 

Of course, you can always reread your own work, which can remind you of where you wanted to take your plot/characters in the first place and give you a jump start like that... but for me that just makes me annoyed that I can’t read the rest of the fic as *I* have to write it asdfghjk. Alternatively, if you find yourself stuck on one story, start writing/working on another! I know, sounds counterintuitive with the “too many wips” thing, but it doesn’t have to be a full-fledged novel! A oneshot, drabble, a writing request, a practice scene...something small that you’re not necessarily obligated to finish just to get the juices flowing again without the added pressure. That one I can say from experience definitely helps from experience!

Do literally anything else. Sometimes you’re just a bit burnt out and need a break from writing! Give that part of your brain some time to rest, and then when you come back to write, it’ll be with some fresh perspective! Being all-consuming in a project may seem like it’ll help it get done faster, but you can’t drive a car with no gas, y’know? Don’t let yourself get too hung up on writing; it’s supposed to be fun! And when it starts getting not fun, step away before you can too frustrated with it (or yourself). Get a snack, grab some water, draw, do a puzzle, go outside, see some friends, whatever! It’s just as important not to neglect other things you love as well. .... *stares longingly at my gaming backlog*

From my own experience, I do tend to get a reignited itch to write when I’m off doing something else. In my case, let’s say I’m playing a video game, but now that my mind has had time to relax from writing, new ideas and a drive to write actually have the energy to come back full force, so to speak.

Straight up start the chapter/scene/part you’re stuck on from scratch (but don’t throw out what you already have either). Again, sounds counterintuitive, BUT by tackling the problem from another angle (i.e. a different point of view, a different turn in a conversation, simply rearranging the order of events, etc) can do INSANE wonders for finding a way through a block. All those chapters I listed above? All had to be re-written to include everything I wanted that would also flow in a logical way. I look at my older drafts for chapters and wince at my original ideas—but hey, I wouldn’t have the current ideas I have now without them, so can’t let myself feel too bad! 

And by not throwing out what you already have, you’ve got stuff to work with and reference, which is better than trying to go in blind all over again! You can straight up rewrite scenes you weren’t vibing with, rearrange the order of scenes to experiment with the flow, ask yourself why you even needed a scene in the first place...being able to reflect like that is super indispensable, and in the worst case scenario, you’ve still got at least part of a chapter written, so it’s not like you have zero progress at all! 

Take the first/easiest way out, or just eliminate what caused the problem in the first place. It may seem a little dumb, and it’s obviously going to depend on just how big the “problem” actually is or the nature of it, but for the moment, if it’ll help you move forward in the slightest, go for it! Because you can always go back and fix it up later if you want! And if not, you’ve still got a good enough way to get readers (and yourself), from point a to point b. No need to always be perfect; we’re all doing this for fun in the end! And often times a casual reader isn’t going to catch the fact that you may have metaphorically simply put a bandaid over an issue; they’re just here for the fun ride! 

But the biggest secret to keep on carrying on? Love what you do!  Sounds cheesy, but if you’re not fully passionate to begin with, it’s going to be really, really hard to maintain the drive no matter what you do. Always remind yourself of why you started the project in the first place, remember the story you want to achieve in the end, and be a little forgiving to yourself when things aren’t turning out the way you want them to. You just have such high expectations for your work because it means so much to you that you start putting standards on yourself, and that’s not always good for you or your story.

Learn to see problems not as problems but opportunities; a wake-up call for yourself, a check to make sure the story is going in the way you originally wanted it to, or to see if maybe it’s time for a complete direction! It doesn’t mean the project’s not worth finishing; it just means it’s worth so much to you that you’re afraid to see it fail. But what’s more important: achieving a perfect story that made you want to pull your hair out the whole time, or telling an imperfect story you can always go back and fix if you want, but people were able to enjoy regardless because it got done? 

And hey, sometimes you do just have to write a bad chapter/scene/story just to push onward (Chapter 11 of Book 1 is this for me ghhhhh it’s so far from my vision and I never could fine tune it in just the right way I wanted BUT OH WELL). Not saying you should just ~abandon all quality~ when things aren’t going your way, but.......it’s not the end of the world if you do, either. That just means you’ve presented an opportunity for yourself to look back on how you’ve grown! And that’s not a bad thing, right? 

Anyway, that’s just some advice from my own experience/circumstances; hopefully it helped in some small way, at least! ^^

[thoughtfullyluckyperson]

But also, regarding that oneshot, I love (not really) how people are all “Light bad bad baaaaad” but then go “Minoru is much better, such a kind boy! never wrote in the notebook! got money for everyone!”

Ahem. Did people somehow miss the fact that he almost sold the notebook to Trump? What do you think would happen if the death note made its way to this or that state? And especially to the government of one of most aggressive countries? The death note which never runs out of pages and can be dissected into an endless amount of small pieces, and all of them work as the original and are more dangerous than any existing weapon? So US politicians could officially (and unofficially too) threaten or kill whoever opposing them? So pieces of it could be sold to whomever by corrupt ones too, and there would be a crowd of people who can kill without a trace? It’s, like, a beginning of full-fledged dystopia. A kind boy, indeed.

I would honestly prefer ten Lights running around with the notebooks to one Trump having it (I wouldn’t entrust even Monako’s government with it, tbh, and surely not one of USA/China/Russia/EU etc who had the most money to buy it; though Monacan world domination would be funny at least). Big states already have tremendous power as it is and keep each other in check with armies and nuclear weapons, and the death note owned by one of them would’ve tipped the balance. The best thing Light ever did with the death note was keeping it hidden and fully under his control, really. And Minoru just decided “to hell with the world, I want some money” and didn’t care about consequences. If not for deus ex machina Shinigami King being fickle, all hell would break loose.

Not only that, with his cunning plan Minoru managed to cause a hyperinflation in Japan and most likely a global economic crisis followed a bit later (since Japan’s economy is closely tied to global one), which probably messed up and indirectly killed more people (poor, disabled, elderly etc) around the world than Light did in all his Kira career. The second best thing Light did with the death note: he was smart enough not to mess with the economy. 

Imo, it’s probably what this oneshot was written for - to show how non-villainous people with the notebook can cause more damage than patented villains. Minoru is not evil, just self-serving and his plan makes more sense on a personal level (no murders! just money! he even shared them) than Light’s megalomania, and yet consequences of his two weeks of owning the death note could be more dire than Light’s six years. Light is much more dangerous as a person but he was actually safer for the world as a whole than Minoru was. It kinda makes me appreciate Light more.

[itsprobablyjohanna]

Great Minds Think Alike

SFW Fanfiction

Fandom: BTS 방탄소년단

Characters: reader (gender-neutral), Suga/Min Yoongi

Type: oneshot

Word Count: 4.0k

Genre: mild angst, smut-free, WAFF, RPF, IC

Rating: 13+

Warning: mildly heavy themes such as pressure/stress, expectations, life struggles, and parental issues

A/N: this started as a YouTube comment under this video. it was originally just the first section and intended to be a cute little prelude to the video, but other users asked if I could continue the story, so here you go :) this is the first story I've ever written for the public eye, which due to hesitation combined with college is why it took so long as some of you know, so I’m really sorry for the long wait! enjoy 💝 (btw, the video makes a really good audio background for the story 😉)

* * * * *

You've been working all day in your studio. Being a producer for BigHit Entertainment is fun and all, but you've been having a creative block for a while and it's hard to focus on making music. It doesn't help that you've also had a lot on your mind lately, as there are a handful of things going on in your personal life right now. You get discontented as you look at the progress you've made so far and decide it's not a good amount for a day's worth of work. You should stay a bit late tonight. But what good would that do if you can't seem to think of anything anyway? Maybe a break will refresh your mind.

You make a stop at the restroom before refilling your plastic drink container at a water fountain. It's pitch dark outside and through the window you can see the millions of Seoul's city lights. Suddenly you hear the soft swishing of sandals on the tile floors and you turn around to see none other than Suga. He goes to a refrigerator that's across the room from you and grabs his favorite drink. As he cracks open the lid, he looks over at you.

"You're not going home yet?" he asks.

"Nah, I'm working late."

Suga nods his head at your response and calmly takes a sip of his drink. He then makes his way toward the hallway that you both came from, but you stop him.

"Hey, uh... work has been slow lately. Can I chill in your studio with you?"

He seems a bit surprised as he stares blankly at you for a couple seconds. "In my studio?"

You two have only passed by each other in the company building a few times and made small talk maybe once. You don't know why you asked him such a question when you barely know each other. Maybe you just want to know what being in the "Genius Lab" is like.

"Yeah. I don't know," you reply, "I just thought maybe it would clear my head, y'know? You can keep working like you usually do, I won't bother you."

He takes another sip before nodding his head again. "Okay." He starts walking down the hallway and you follow.

*

Why did he agree so easily? Suga is one of the most reclusive individuals in this company. Min Yoongi, rapper and producer of the Bulletproof Boy Scouts, "the guy with no emotion or energy." He barely lets his own group members in, let alone anyone else who works here. Is it because you're both producers? Maybe he relates to the "staying late" kind of thing, or the fact that production has been slow and a change of scenery is needed. Your coworkers have told you before that once he gets into work mode, he tends to stay here until way late into the night. Or, maybe he just wants to get to know you since you're the newly hired producer everyone was talking about. You’ve learned pretty fast that word seems to go around here quicker than rumors in high school.

After walking down a couple hallways, Suga stops at a frosted glass door with a number lock on it. He punches in the passcode while you look in another direction. When he opens the door, there’s... another glass door right behind it. For soundproofing? Once that door is open, you're surprised to see a charming room with a full-fledged studio. It's nothing like your quaint little office room, which looks more like a teenager stuffed their childhood PC and desk into a closet with some soundboards and a guitar. Suga's studio is decked out with multiple desks, shelves, what you recognize as nice music equipment, and a couch. Papers lay in a pile next to a bottle of wine and a glass. A sports jersey with the number 93 and "Suga" on it is pulled over the back of an office chair. Figures of various characters decorate the room. You feel like you just walked into the college dorm room of a swaggy rich-kid music major.

Suga holds the second door open and watches while you walk in behind him and close the first. The number lock outside makes a noise shortly after the door is closed. The two of you shuffle inside and you take a seat on the couch next to the door, noticing the wine on his desk. Doesn't alcohol make you sleepy instead of keeping you awake? He seems to need an energy boost, although he always looks tired when you see him. One of the many joys of having a die-hard passion: your work being a higher priority to you than basic human needs such as sleep. He caps his drink and puts it behind his computer keyboard before turning his chair and slumping into it. He takes off his hat and ruffles the hair he didn't bother to do anything to today.

"I really like your studio," you say while eyeing around. You take in all of the nice details, from the decal stickers on his air conditioner to the cute little figurines everywhere. He seems to like bears, evident by the many Kumamon and Kaws figures. He also seems to like sports due to the jersey on his chair and a figurine of a basketball player behind his computer monitor.

"Thanks," he says to your compliment. "Are you hungry? I keep snacks in here, if you want any." He points to a shelf with various small packages of food sitting in a pile. You grab a Kit Kat and thank him, which earns a hum in reply. He puts his hat back on and swivels to his computer monitor, which has a MIDI project in progress. You can't help but scan over the interface and pick up on all of the details of the song he's producing. MIDI is kinda your thing, too. You wonder what he's writing about. It's probably a deep and poetic message. You've listened to some of the tracks he’s produced and written before and was pleasantly surprised by how talented he is. He seems to understand how life works and knows how to put ideas into words in a way that leaves you wondering how deep and articulate a person can be. You get a familiar urge to talk all about life and gush over music with him, but you remember your promise that you wouldn't bother him and decide to just sit back and listen to the sounds of his studio.

A fairly long time goes by before either of you say anything. His studio has a great atmosphere. No wonder he's able to lock himself up in here for so many hours every day. His AC is on high, necessary for Seoul's hot summer nights. His keyboard makes nice clicking sounds. He rolls to and fro in his chair between the desks and a synthesizer keyboard, typing, playing, writing, working away on his late-night song. He's pretty quiet, save an occasional clearing of his throat or groaning while stretching. You notice how relaxed and graceful his movements are. He's like a cat. A cat who makes songs.

* *

After you observe this mysterious person for a while, your mind starts to wander. All of the things that you kept stuffed in the back of your busy mind during this whole hiring and moving process recently have caught up to your conscience and dragged you into deep thought. You didn't just push them as far back as they would go because you needed to focus on other things and get stuff done; they're negative thoughts that you know can affect you a lot if you think about them too much. Your mind wanders back to your past, the life you knew before this. You remember the fights you would have with your parents, who just didn't understand why you would want to "throw away" your future and become a musician instead of having a normal, secure job like the rest of your family. Music never really ran in the family until you came along. Most kids played sports or video games, or watched TV, or heck, even read books. Not you. You just had to have a musical instrument for your 10th birthday, after years of begging for one and your parents finally giving in to your persistent wish. It was a new world for you the day you finally got to hold it in your arms; a beautiful, shiny, classic-style, 6-string acoustic guitar that smelled of wood and the soft interior of the case it came with. Hours of playing every day, with you alone in your bedroom, happily strumming your new treasure until your fingertips had indentations and cracks in them from the tough wire strings. Your mother would shake her head as she popped your blisters over the bathroom sink and dressed them with bandages after washing clean. You learned every technique and trick using the dirt-old computer in the living room that everyone in the house used. Laggy YouTube videos and tutorials from various websites were your music teachers. And you had a knack for it, too. It got to the point where your time playing was restricted by your parents to make you go play outside and spend time with other kids like a normal child. When you moved on to middle school, your parents bought you your own laptop so that you could have something to do your school projects on without it lagging and crashing all the time, and that's when you discovered MIDI. Your life from then on was making songs with the software that you begged your parents for, who only agreed to buy it for you with the promise that it wouldn’t get in the way of school or your other responsibilities.

And then came high school. And the nagging. Oh, the constant nagging about your grades, chores, college, your future career, adult life, and the hobby that's taking over your life and why can't you just be a good child and do what your parents want for your future. Your grades were perfectly fine, straight A's even. You didn't understand why no matter how hard you worked and how long you studied, your parents weren't happy. You poured your heart and soul into every assignment, never got into trouble, helped around the house whenever you had the chance, obeyed your parents as perfectly as you could... Why couldn't they accept the fact that your music didn't hinder your life at all and it meant so much to you, that you were happiest doing this one harmless activity? Music was in your blood. It gave you a reason to get up in the morning and distracted you from the immense pressure you felt from your parents and responsibilities, if only for a small amount of time. You couldn't help but feel like something was wrong with you and that you never did good enough, even though you were an excellent student and a talented musician. Is this so wrong? Is it really a bad thing to pursue music as a career? Should you follow your dreams, or are your parents right and you're just being delusional? You were even pretty popular at school. Everyone knew you as the smart kid that makes really good music with a computer program. You've been asked countless times by others if they can listen to your tracks and when your first mixtape is coming out. The cool kids would invite you to sit with them at lunch because they were convinced you would become the next big pop artist. Your guitar covers of popular songs, and especially your original compositions, always blew up on your Instagram page, with your close friends hyping you up in all of the comment sections. "It's that music you're always making," your parents would say. "It won't get you anywhere in life. You need to focus on more important things." All of your friends got good scholarships for being talented athletes, actors, writers, for winning top places at science fairs, and you just--

Suddenly a song starts to play through Suga's speakers and you startle because of the new (and kind of loud) noise. It's a sweet, upbeat song with a female's voice singing. Not what you would expect a rapper like Suga to listen to, but hey, no judgment here. He periodically pauses it and plays it again, probably listening to every little detail the song has to offer. Producers tend to do that. At some point he leans back in his chair, crosses his fingers over his midsection, and stares at his monitor, slowly turning his chair from left to right with the tips of his feet. You'd recognize that pose anywhere. That's the position of someone who's used all of the ideas they had in their brain at that moment and now they have to think of more.

"What’s your song about?" you ask after a while of him being in the same position. He abruptly turns to look at you with the same blank expression he always has. Did he forget you were there? You also remember a little too late that you had promised you would leave him alone.

"Uh..." He takes a minute to find his words, smacking his lips and making an oddly cute slurping noise. "It's a more personal track than most. About struggles I’ve faced in my past."

You give him a knowing hum and slowly nod your head. Nothing you haven't heard of before. With a long history of having an interest in music, you’ve experienced more than your fair share of music artists pouring their hearts out through song. You wonder what kind of things he's been through. With someone as chill and mysterious as him, you never really know.

"Those are the best kind of songs," you say with a smile. "They're always so meaningful." Suga gives a small smile back.

"Yeah. Can't go wrong with a personal touch." He looks at his monitor for a moment and then turns his chair to face you. "Do you want to listen? I could use another producer's input."

"Oh, yes please," you say. With that, Suga turns back to his computer, drags the bar to the beginning of the track, and presses play.

* * *

His song starts with a slow but heavy rhythm. You pick up every little sound from the instrumental, tasting every individual detail that hits your ears like a professional taste-tester identifying the many overlapping flavors of a dish. Each note makes a burst of color in your mind, painting a unique and beautiful mural that can only be understood by hearing the song as intuitively as your highly music-trained ears are doing right now. He's already recorded a vocal lead, which matches the heavy tone of the song. Your focus on the instrumental doesn't falter as you accept another thing to add to the blooming artwork in your head: Suga's voice. His tone, his gruff vocal effects, his breathing techniques, his flow, his choice of words. They all flow together to tell a story, one that puts Suga's deepest thoughts and feelings on full display. You feel like a projector inside of his brain is playing a film of his thinking process out in the open, where you have a perfect view.

All of a sudden, you forget to judge his song anymore and just process the lyrics, which hit you right in the heart, verse after verse. His words are filled with hurt, confusion, anger, and fear. You almost can't believe that someone as apparently calm and collected as Suga has all of these thoughts that he so rawly expressed through his rap. Although everyone has painful parts of their lives, and what better way for them to be expressed than through song?

The song builds in intensity towards the end, finishing with exceptionally heavy-hitting lines, the instrumental ending as soon as the last word is delivered and its last breath fading out shortly after. Suga had been watching you from time to time, scanning your face for any expression. After the song ends, your eyes meet with his. "Did you... Those lyrics are true? Did those things really happen?"

He gives you a nod and hums a simple "mhmm". He then shifts in his chair, straightening his posture and leaning forward on his thighs with his forearms. "I wanted to make a song that was more genuine than the typical songs you hear on the radio. Those songs... Sure, they're about real things, like being in love and breakups. But those topics have been used so much that it’s all you hear about anymore." He’s very articulate and slow when he speaks. "You never hear about the darker things because everyone is expected to be all hush-hush about it. Everyone gets uncomfortable when someone so much as just alludes to it. I want to change that." He notices your expression before quickly adding, "Was it too much?"

You guess your face held more concern or shock -- you aren't sure which exactly -- than you intended it to. "Oh! No, I was just a little surprised, that's all. Whenever I see you or hear about you, you seem like such an unbothered person. I didn’t expect you to have dealt with things of that nature," you point in the general direction of his computer. "It wasn't too much. I think it's good to express those things too, no matter how rough or off-putting they might seem. They make songs much more powerful. I’m really impressed you want to do something like that, and so publicly too." South Korea isn’t the most advanced country when it comes to social aspects. In fact, you would say it’s one of the world’s societies with the strictest social standards. "As for the music quality... I thought it was amazing! I love your choice of instruments, and the build-up was seamless. Your flow was really nice. You have good breath control and vocal techniques; I can tell you put a lot of work into perfecting it. Overall, I thought it was a really good song."

Suga gives a big smile, showing off his small white teeth and pink gums. You've barely seen him crack a smile until now, so it looks like he's literally glowing to you. "I'm glad you like it."

You think for a moment before asking, "You don't express yourself much other than with music, do you?"

"Nah, not really." Suga scratches the back of his neck. "I’m not good at expressing my feelings, except when I make music. So... music is kinda my outlet."

If you thought Suga was mysterious before, he's definitely got your curiosity going now. He seems like he has so much underneath his cool exterior. If you were surprised by his true thoughts in one 4-minute song, who knows what else is locked inside that brain of his? You want to know everything about this person sitting in front of you, the things he’s experienced so far, what seeing through his eyes is like, what inspires and motivates him. You carefully push further. "Can I ask more about the lyrics?"

* * * *

"...When I told them I wanted to make music, they heavily disapproved. They had a really hard time when they were growing up and in adulthood, and they didn’t want their child to face the same struggles, so they wanted me to have a stable career instead." Suga describes his relationship with his parents when he was young, and it sounds eerily similar to yours. "I started making music when I was 13. That was when I decided that it was the path I wanted to take. I didn't care about school anymore since my life was in music, so I lazed through it and barely passed all of my classes. Honestly, I’m surprised I graduated." He describes the odd jobs he worked while he was still in the process of getting his music career started, his experiences with being scammed out of his work and not even being able to afford basic needs, and the underground rap scene. "I wanted to be a producer for Bighit, but they told me I should audition to be an idol instead. So... here I am now."

It makes sense now. He is the way he is because he’s had one of the roughest handfuls of experiences you’ve heard from someone you knew personally. One’s developmental years being full of betrayal and misunderstanding would make anyone shut everyone out and build emotional walls.

You repay his openness by telling him about yourself and your past. What it was like growing up in a household similar to his, always doing the best you can to try and prove yourself, going to college since it’s sooo important to secure your future with a degree (although you majored in music despite your parents’ disapproval), and working odd jobs and getting scholarships to be able to afford it. You joined a program that sent you to Seoul to study abroad, the unofficial "city of music". The program also had an internship integration, which you used to become an intern at BigHit Entertainment in their production team. They were so impressed with you that they kept in touch through the rest of your college process, and as soon as you finished your degree and were now qualified, they hired you as an official producer. They even helped you find housing here, a neat little studio apartment.

After sharing your mutual experiences and understanding for each other, one burning question still lingered in your mind: Why? Why did he let you in so easily? You’ve only just met today, and he basically took his heart out and gave it to you to hold. Your curiosity gets the better of you. "So... Can I ask why you decided to tell me all this? And why you let me in here in the first place? I mean-- other than the fact that I asked you to... but still, you could have said no and it would have been totally fine, and honestly I thought that’s what you would say. You seem like the kind of person that’s not very open with people, especially people you’ve just met."

He seems to think about what you said for a second, and you realize you may have said something wrong and quickly correct yourself. "Not that that’s a bad thing! I have friends like that back home, it’s understandable. They’re just like that. They’re super cool people."

He gives a light chuckle. "No no, I know what you mean. I get that a lot, actually. Lots of people think I’m a cold person. I guess it makes sense, with me not being very sociable." He looks away and scratches behind his ear for a second. "Uh... I just had a feeling. There was something about you, y’know? And I’ve also had times where I needed to clear my head. Wanted to just be with someone and not talk. I tend to be really intuitive about other people, so I wanted to get to know you better. Turns out, I was right. You’re as cool of a person as I thought you would be." A small smile spreads across his face and makes his cheeks look like dumplings.

You laugh at that. "A feeling, huh? Do we have similar personalities?" You poke a little fun at him. "Are you some kind of sorcerer or a fortune teller? Or are we both just geniuses and your genius radar was going off?"

He laughs and then shrugs. "I’ll go with the genius part. I guess great minds think alike."

* * * * *

[bluemoonbeam15]

Sooo if this spoils anything you’ve got coming up, you can ignore this ask, but I wanted to know: I see in a lot of of your oneshots, they take place after hopper has been redeemed. I wanted to know, what was the turning point? I see even the circus bugs are trusting of him and like him, so whatever it was to change their mind must have been big. I think Flik is a kind person who would have tried to do the right thing with hopper in your scenarios, so I can see him growing to like hopper much quicker. So what are your thoughts on this?

This is actually in the process of being a full-fledged story on Wattpad. I only have outlines written for about the first five chapters, but the prologue has been completed and edited. Once I get a break from school this year they will be published. I like to get a few chapters completed before I begin publishing them, that way the updates stay consistent.

However, this is a little "excerpt" I suppose from the upcoming novel. Whether it stays in the story or not has yet to be determined. But the premise will be the same, nonetheless.

<><><><><><><><>

The Queens were silent for what felt like an eternity. Atta swallowed thickly as the Monarch looked down her nose to the ant. Queen Esther had the upper hand in the situation: her army of all kinds of insects surrounded the colony with a hunger for war. It wouldn't be much of one. The ants had no natural way to defend themselves like the wasps and Reduviidae did. "It has been quite some seasons, hasn't it? I was willing to let the situation go had it not been for my messengers." Queen Esther snapped her fingers and a centipede strolled up quickly, a leaf in hand. "What was the statement made?" she prompted the centipede.

"A rogue band of locusts from the Pallid-Winged Cloud in the North set claim over Ant Island." He read aloud to the crowd. The ants exchanged glances of varying expressions.

Queen Esther began to circle Atta, "Now, any leader could see why this would be a problem. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"

Atta kept her eyes focused ahead, not bothering to follow the Monarch as she circled behind her. "Yes..."

"So, why is it that no action has been done to correct this? Why am I forced to come here in the midst of my migration to set these crickets in their place?"

"Your Highness--"

"Let me finish!" Esther snarled. "I have little to no patience with rogue insects. Your colony is becoming a target on my map, Majesty. Failure to comply with my rules will lead to unnecessary conflict," her servants unsheathed their claws and stingers, "and we don't need that kind of publicity. So, tell me where the leader of this rogue band is and we'll take our leave."

Atta bit her lip, "I...his whereabouts are unknown, Your Highness."

Queen Esther rose a brow, "Interesting. That's odd...because one of your fellow subjects were the first to inform me, upon my arrival, that the idiot is staying here."

Her blood ran cold. Who--?

"Where is he, ant?" Queen Esther growled lowly as her servants closed in around the colony. "You have three seconds before we pillage this Island. Your precious colony will be nothing more than a heap of death and destruction if you do not tell me where he is."

Atta tried holding her ground, "You can't-- you wouldn't do that..."

"Would I? My control over the Insect Kingdom is worth more than this stupid excuse for a colony. There are other ant colonies out there, Majesty. Yours is expendable. But I certainly can't have these rogues hopping about to every colony and setting their claim. Their rebellion ends here. Now tell me where the leader is."

But she couldn't. She shouldn't. But it was just Hopper. The torment he put this colony through, the pain, the suffering. But Flik would be--no. Flik's feelings had no place in royal matters like this. He could side for the grasshopper as much as he wanted. This was bigger than feelings. This was the line between peace and war. And if the situation leaned toward the latter, it would be devastating for the colony.

Slowly, Atta opened her mouth, hands trembling, "He's--"

"Right here."

The crowd turned as a much broader form stepped into the middle of the clearing. Hopper walked calmly, despite the circumstances. He stopped just shy of where Atta stood, staring levelly at the Monarch.

Queen Esther gave a disbelieving look. She huffed a laugh, "You...Your the rogue leader? You are who's been causing all this commotion."

"You flatter me, Your Highness," Hopper put his hands neatly behind him.

Atta felt her insides twist sickeningly, "Hopper," she whispered, "what are you doing?"

The Monarch glanced at Atta, "So, you really are the troublemaker. And what's worse...is that this colony has also gone against me to protect you."

Hopper gave a small laugh, "I assure you, that's not what's going on."

"My eyes tell me differently," Esther sniffed. "You'll be disposed of. So will this colony," the ants gasped and murmured. "Any ounce of rebellion is not tolerated under my watch. Servants!" The wasps hissed and grabbed the closest ants by the arms.

"One small problem, Your Highness," Hopper held a hand up right as the Monarch turned to leave. Just to humor him, she acknowledged his comment half-heartedly. "I do, in fact, still have claim over this colony."

The Queen blinked and faced him fully, stalking closer, "Under what condition?"

"They're under my sole protection." Flik watched from the sidelines, arms pinned behind him as a wasp secured him. Hopper met his gaze briefly, "You have no right to harm them so long as I'm here."

"That's quite a bold statement coming from their prisoner," his antennae twitched. She noticed the fear glint in his eyes as she took him by the jaw, claws digging, "A little bird told me about the uprising. Seems to me as if you'd need more protection from them than they will from you. So don't waste anymore of your pathetic breath, cricket. These ants will have you killed in a heartbeat, anyhow."

Hopper struggled to compose himself, "You...you still have no place here. If they can kill me they can kill you, too."

"Cute," Esther sneered before throwing him to the ground. She loomed over him, "I'm not as weak as you. I've spent my whole life claiming territory, gaining dominion over every species and family of insect. The last thing I concern myself with is a bunch of ants."

He pushed himself up on his forearms, "A mistake on your part, Highness." She growled. "They're a lot stronger than you think they are," he met Flik's eyes fully. The colony murmured. Atta slowly looked up, eyes landing on the Monarch.

So Flik had been right all this time. And like a fool she doubted him again. Whatever happened...whatever that little ant did...it changed something. She watched the Monarch lean over Hopper, a hand gripping his throat with the intent to kill. "Those are your final words? How fitting."

Hopper grunted, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to remain conscious, "Go ahead...ki--...kill me...they'll...do the same...to you."

She growled and drew blood from his throat, eyes blazing. In a split moment, she found herself on the ground, webbing wrapped tightly around her. The wasps and Reduviidae snarled and entered the center of the clearing as the Circus Bugs stood behind the Monarch. Rosie held the base of the webbing taut to prevent Esther from escaping.

"Rogues! All of you!" the Monarch hissed, "At what cost are you protecting this insolent cricket for? He bound you all in chains! He left you all to starve! He--"

"Redeemed himself!" Flik shouted from the sidelines. He grit his teeth as the wasps claws dug deeper.

"Oh," Esther rolled her eyes, "redemption, how sweet. How about we forgive every murderer and tyrant that comes our way, hm?"

Francis scoffed, "You won't be so lucky."

Queen Esther growled, "Attack! Kill them! This Island will be a pile of death by the time we're through with the lot of you!"

As the colony rushed to escape the murderous servants, Gypsy rushed up beside Hopper. "Get up," she pulled at his arm, "you're their first target."

Atta came up to the other side of him, supporting some of his weight as he struggled to stand. Hopper flinched from them, "What are you doing?"

"What Flik would," Atta pushed him forward.

At the mention of that, Hopper quickly looked to where he'd last seen the inventor. The ant had been thrown down by the wasp, stinger getting dangerously close to his chest as he tried scrambling away.

"End of the line, pipsqueak," the wasp sneered and shot his stinger down. Flik closed his eyes shut and waited for it to be over. Darkness filled behind his eyelids, but it wasn't from death. He blinked open his eyes to see the shadow of someone standing over him. The wasp lay in a bloodied heap in front of Flik, coughing up blood. Flik looked up. Had it not been all those weeks...all those moments of catching a glimpse of who Hopper really was...the look might've terrified him. Even now it made his heart drop as Hopper -- teeth bared and fists clenched, blood dripping from his throat -- stood protectively over him.

He grabbed Flik by the arm, pulling him up, "Well don't just lay there, kid," his voice was hoarse. "I might not feel like saving your abdomen again."

Flik finally ripped his eyes away from the wasp to Hopper, "You actually saved my life."

Hopper quirked his mouth, "You saved mine."

The inventor blinked, smiling slowly. He looked at the chaos around them. Blood was staining the ground. Screams were filling the clearing. But...

He set his mouth in a fine line, "I've got an idea."

"That's dangerous," Hopper coughed out.

Flik grinned, "So you're in?"

Hopper rose a brow, a grin threatening to show no matter how hard he fought it, "I guess so."

<><><><><><><><>

Like I said, I'm not %100 certain that this scene will be alive in the final product, but I really like how this excerpt turned out. So, there's a high chance this is the final version (or at least until I edit the minor parts).

I'll post an update on here when my story is officially published on Wattpad. There are other works I have on another account (I forgot my password to it XD) that are from different fandoms if any of you are interested. The username is Dragonflyer2003.

Hope you enjoyed this piece! I had a wonderful time writing it. I also used this song as an inspirational piece for this scene:

[drxwsyni]

Comprehension︱Yandere Shinsou Hitoshi x f!Reader

Anonymous asked: “Could you write a one shot where the reader (female) is mute and gets kidnapped by yandere Shinsō who just thinks the reader is trying to avoid his quirk.”

a/n: *IMPORTANT* So, I had to do quite a lot of research for this oneshot to be medically correct. For the sake of clarity, the reader is depicted with Broca’s Aphasia, a branch of a speech impairment that lets them understand what people are saying to them, but are unable to form a verbal or written response. This can happen due to stroke or injury. I am in no way romanticizing this condition, this is a work of fiction and I don’t believe in these glorifying ideas in real life. Aphasia is a serious medical condition and should be treated as such.

Thank you to @theladyshinigami​ for helping me work out the outline to this oneshot, your assistance is always much appreciated <3

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, mentions of injury, imprisonment, angst, gen. yandere themes

7k words

“The only person getting in your way is yourself.”

A distinctive earthy aroma permeated through the air, the soft pattering of raindrops colliding with the rooftop foundation around him. Perched atop a ledge, overseeing the idle backstreets of the residential area he was appointed to patrol, Shinsou’s eyes landed on a crouched form on the streets below.

The last time he heard your voice was in the final school year before joining UA, the both of you planning on enrolling in the general studies course there. He was paying no mind to your counterargument―one he’d heard plenty of times before. You insisting that he’d become more than what some nonsensical individuals made him out to be, him blowing off the sentiment due to a long established complacency over the occurrence.

He fought with you over it, much to your dismay. In a fit of frustration you stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving him to brew in his displeasing thoughts. Now however, he wished he ran after you. Apologized for acting so insensitive, making a point to thank you for believing in him and lending him advice with only good intentions when others would cower in prejudiced suspicion.

The next morning he went to class as normal, except you weren’t there. The teacher explained you’d moved schools and wouldn’t be returning. He never got to say goodbye, the last interaction with you being one filled with undeserving ignorance against your warmhearted nature.

Now a full fledged pro hero, having trained relentlessly to become everything you sought to bring out in him, Shinsou remained motionless in the steady stream of rain. Not even the darkness of the 2 am night could mask those undeniably identifiable features.

That soft smile gracing your face, gentle and welcoming. He followed your gaze, laughing slightly in disbelief. Not just at how out of nowhere you appeared back in his presence, but at how you’d also managed to find his adventurous outdoor cat.

The two of you were protected from the downpour by a bus stop shelter, the metal frame being overtaken by wildly growing vines. His cat was perched atop the wooden bench, and you’d positioned yourself to be perfectly eye level with the affectionate feline.

If he wasn’t currently experiencing an intense wave of recollection having found that you were alive and well, he might be able to fully appreciate the sight for what it is―heart wrenchingly adorable.

Of course he found his cat cute, but you were on another playing field entirely.

He noted with fondness that at least outwardly, you appeared just as entrancing as the day you left him. With age brought new reasons for him to be enraptured with your being, maturity allowing new, equally soft features to shine through. Although shamelessly taking the time out of these ungodly hours to pet a wandering cat, it showed that you still held that same sense of innocence.

When you were younger, that trait had him deeply worried at times. It left you skittish in the wake of those who took advantage of your unassumingly positive approach to life. Of course he never treated you so wrongly, especially after you’d proved how the functionality of his quirk didn’t phase you.

But he never was there for you as much as you were for him. Shinsou didn’t really bother to ask you just how you were doing, if you were dealing with being treated in such a way all the time. You always made a point in making sure he was okay, but something always held him back from doing the same with you.

It was a level of intimacy he wasn’t quite ready for, no matter how much you conveyed your comfortableness with him.

Does she even remember me?

Giving a final few offers of attention towards the feline, Shinsou watched from his spot on the rooftop as you stretched out to be standing. Your black umbrella, already wet with rainwater from being used just minutes ago, popped open in quick succession. Carefully, so as not to step in the deep puddle of water forming in the indents of the sidewalk, you strided out from underneath the small shelter.

Regret for his past behaviour kept Shinsou at a distance as you turned away. However, the allure of wanting to see just how you’d grown in ways he hadn’t yet observed since he last was graced with your presence kept that distance unchanging.

With each of your steps away, he met with his own advance. Trailing you from the rooftops, Shinsou watched over your form, unconsciously guiding him further into your life. And, as it turns out―your apartment.

Judging the surrounding area, your home was just five blocks from his own. How long had you gone unnoticed, living day to day alongside of him yet somehow still so far apart?

Ever so slightly, he could see your frame shivering from the chill that the rain brought on. He hadn’t acknowledged his own discomfort, being far too occupied with your sudden reappearance. As you let yourself into the complex, Shinsou ran a hand through his damp indigo locks, attempting to ground himself with the information of your existence.

Having nothing of yours left to take in, not unless he wanted to make his own existence known to you, he resigned his duties for the night. With a brief phone call to his agency, the area was kept guarded with a fresh pair of eyes, allowing him to return to the sanctuary of his own home.

His cat was awaiting his return, pawing angrily at the door which was adorned with scratch marks at the base from similar occurrences. He ruffled the fur atop its head, earning a reflexive shake to remove the built up dampness from the cat.

Calloused hands slid a key into place, unlocking and pushing the door open for his pet to enter. It moved past his own advances with disregard for the risk of him tripping over its small body, Shinsou mentally cursing himself for letting the adventurous being out in the first place. But then again, it did allow him the opportunity to see his two favorite girls spending time together―so maybe the disrespectful behaviour could be forgiven.

The warmth that electrical heating provided did not go unappreciated, a stark contrast from the chill of the night air. Yet although the sensation was welcoming and capable of calming his mind, Shinsou could not simply return to the routine of basking in its comfort after a grueling and extensive shift.

You were out there, completely unaware of him―and he didn’t want things to remain that way. Even if he didn’t directly approach you to learn of the ways you’d spent all those years apart from him just yet, Shinsou still had to know more.

_____

You worked at a bar. Fairly low in traffic and on the edge of town, but a decent establishment nonetheless.

Call it impulse, but Shinsou couldn’t contain the urge to distantly concern himself with watching over you as you made the trek to your job. He respected it―the occupation you’d taken up. Although he didn’t observe you in action, he figured you worked as a waitress or something of the sort. The position made good money, and he knew you could fill the requirements with your kind attitude.

However, he wasn’t as fond of the idea that it was likely you’d experienced some unpleasant customers. It comes with that sort of job, and he was all too aware of the defiling thoughts people had, and thus the actions that resulted from them.

That was what got him to swallow any apprehension to meet you face to face. At least if he was in the bar, it’d make it easier to help you if someone came on a little too strongly.

Shinsou reserved the next possible moment to be devoid of any hero work. He sat down in the bar, ordering a drink to stave off the budding anxiety of finally meeting you after such a long time of being apart. He planned to play it off as coincidence―showing up after a long day, and just so happening to stumble into the bar you worked at.

But he never got the chance to. Shinsou could’ve sworn he saw you enter the building, but after sitting in the same spot for three hours, he never laid eyes on you.

So he did the next best thing.

Patiently, he leaned against the rough brick wall outside of the bar. A few moths batted against the artificial lighting above the heavy metal door to the back exit. The spot where he stood was illuminated with an orange glow, dissipating down the alleyway. Impatiently, checked the digital watch on his wrist.

The door’s handle creaked under the influence of someone turning it from the other side. Shinsou’s eyes shot in its direction, widening slightly as he pushed away from the wall.

Slowly, you stepped through the threshold, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips as you nudged your bag up your shoulder.

The moment you met his anticipated gaze, your own expression formed into a content disbelief. The door shut behind you with a thud, you remaining in one place as he made the first move to speak after clearing his throat.

“I, uh...I saw you, yesterday. On patrol―you were walking out of the bar so I assumed you worked here...You remember who I am, right?”

A wave of relief washed over him as you nodded, that oh so gentle and familiar smile enveloping the soft features of your face. You didn’t say anything, and he figured you were just too much in shock to respond.

Shinsou continued, “I ended up joining the hero course at UA―even have my own agency now. You were right about me, those assholes didn’t know what they were talking about.”

A swell of warmth enveloped him being back in your presence, and with being able to regard those kind eyes again, looking proud for his accomplishments.

But you still didn’t respond.

A crease formed between his brows, a once friendly smile faltering in confusion. If you looked so happy for him, why weren’t you talking back?

You always, always responded to him. Even when he was in a sour mood, you stayed consistent in your acceptance that although his quirk could be used for malice, it wasn’t something he’d ever do.

“Y’know, sometimes I get so sick of the way you act―self-deprecating no matter how much I tell you things won’t always be like this. And honestly ‘Toshi, it’s starting to rub off on me a bit!”

The argument was crystal clear in his mind, your words repeating inside his head as if you’d just uttered them in the present moment.

That was impossible though. You hadn’t said a single word, just standing in front of him in silence. He knew you understood what he was saying.

Only one explanation made sense―it was his quirk that was keeping you from talking.

As Shinsou’s expression fell with feelings of betrayal corrupting his previously relieved feelings, the look on your face changed as well. Like you hadn’t realized your mistake, you presented conflictingly.

You looked like you wanted to say something, but no words came out of your mouth. 

The door behind you bust open, a few bar workers spilling out, sporting obnoxiously loud chatter. What appeared to be the ringleader of the group noticed the exchange taking place between the two of you first.

“(Y/n)! This your friend or something?” He slung an arm around your shoulder, the action putting a small grimace on Shinsou’s face. You looked up at the man, nodding while shifting uncomfortable under his weight.

The strangely affectionate worker regarded him, “Nice to meet you, dude! We were just headin’ out for some drinks―you’re more than welcome to join seeing as you’re all buddy buddy with this pretty lady.”

Shinsou gritted his teeth in irritation, feeling majorly uneasy with the developing situation, and with the worker’s behaviour. He didn’t take his eyes off of your shied form as he spoke. “Uh...I don’t really like crowds, sorry. Maybe another time.”

While that wasn’t a lie, his dejection was mostly a result of his stirred up emotions over your uncharacteristic behaviour.

“Uh...Alright then―see you around, man!”

The group dragged you along with them, forcing Shinsou to side step out of the way. As they stumbled out of the alley, he caught the way you looked back over your shoulder. For a brief moment your eyes locked, and he could’ve sworn he saw your mouth open as if to say something―anything.

Still huddled with the other bar workers, you disappeared from his sight as you exited the alleyway.

He stood there, immobilized with a torrent of how’s and what if’s racing through his mind.

“If that’s how you’re gonna act, then whatever. I don’t wanna deal with this right now.”

The sight of you walking away from him was ingrained into his being. Before, with a moment of stubbornness on his part causing him to unintentionally push you away prior to you disappearing completely. And now, as it appeared in how you finally believed his doubtful words all that time ago.

A low rumbling sounded off in the distance, and although the sky was steeped in darkness, the thickening of the air signaled an approaching storm. There was nothing left for him to do, far too riddled with inner turmoil from the meeting that was supposed to be the start of your rekindled relationship together.

Reluctantly, the indigo haired man made his way out of the alley, shoulders slumped with hands stuffed in his pockets. Out of all the people in his life, you were the only person who he was sure of to never lose faith in him.

And yet, it would seem his careless sentiments had more of an effect on you than he once thought. That day must’ve been the nail in your coffin―what he wouldn’t give now to rewind time and make up for those actions that unknowingly influenced you into your current untrusting mindset.

_____

He should’ve taken the encounter for what it was at face value, and subsequently move on before the regret could eat him up. But Shinsou was stubborn, he always had been with you.

It was far too easy to keep tabs on you. He knew you were naive, but never to this degree. And disturbingly so, it wasn’t just your naivety that scared him―it was how much worse you’d gotten since you were younger.

You always tended to let people walk over you, to allow those ill intentioned individuals to prey on your openness and take advantage of the kindness offered without hesitation. He hated that part of you, but still never said anything.

Maybe he should’ve―no, he definitely should’ve.

Aside from going out to work and the unavoidable errands, you were practically a shut in. Those coworkers he watched drag you off to whatever bar they had in mind that night seemed to be your only friends. And really, Shinsou didn’t even think he could call them that.

Not once had he seen them give you a chance to speak your mind. It was always about them, all day every day without fail. Clearly those years the two of you spent apart was used to foster this placid behaviour in you. He was always in suspense, waiting with worried thoughts for the moment when you’d open your mouth and finally put an end to the meaningless rambling of your questionable acquaintances.

And yet no matter how long Shinsou waited, observing you with the eyes of a hawk stalking its prey, the anticipated behaviour never came.

You weren’t quite the same girl he knew back before UA―before out of nowhere you just up and left with zero explanation.

Shinsou watched as you simply existed in the world around you. Ignored and never sought after for your opinion, keeping quiet while others took the spotlight. And you always let them. What was more alarming was the fact that even if those realities were harmless, your newfound behaviour was a cesspool for people with dangerously worse desires than the ones he observed so long ago.

Making sure he took the time to see you to work or as you went home, obviously entirely unbeknownst to you, was practically a mandatory task in his life at this point. It wasn’t his original plan, mostly because of how much it took away from his own work day―but once again, your behaviour had an influencing effect on him.

In passing one night, you nearly let a total stranger follow you home. Shinsou watched in disgust and horror as the man called out to you as you walked by him, spouting indecent nonsense from his foul lips. And you ignored him. Not even so much as a glance in his direction as you scuttled away. The man went after you, and the thought of what might’ve happened to you if Shinsou wasn’t keeping you safe made his stomach churn. 

Sometimes your shifts weren’t consistent, resulting in him not realizing you’d already left, or that it’d be a while until you did―or even if you were leaving at all. But always making sure you were okay was his only option, the alternative something that he feared, and you would too if you’d just be a little more aware of your surroundings.

Although he preferred this routine of overseeing your day to day excursions, it didn’t hide the fact that his once repressed issues were starting to resurface.

Since proving himself to those who only looked down upon him, working hard and becoming a pro, Shinsou stopped experiencing the pain that came with apprehension from others. 

You always did everything in your power to dissuade him from falling for those poisonous words. More often than not, he disregarded you. Now however, he no longer had the same problems of the general population judging him―just you.

He was upset. Angry with how you threw all that hard work and understanding knowledge of his problems to the wind. You were always there for him to be open with, and for what? Now that you were back, was he just supposed to forget about all the times you stayed with him when nobody else would?

Whatever went down in those years apart, it was clear that your final words and his nonchalant attitude left a deeper impression than he thought. You didn’t respond to him. 

You were avoiding his quirk.

But you should know better. Even without his quirk, he was still able to bring forth what he wanted in people. What he desired to know, how he wanted people to behave. No amount of silence could keep you from that reality.

Shinsou was mad at you for how you treated him. Even worse, those hate filled feelings were brewing alongside fear for the way you’d changed. A nasty concoction of emotions, entirely directed at you. Before, it was you who put so much mental energy into the relationship, and now it was his turn. Shinsou didn’t realize how taxing that state of concern could be.

It was his job to make up for lost time and long perceived mixed messages. In doing so he would no longer want to rip his hair out at the thought of you so casually resigning yourself to the deceptive whims of those around you. And hopefully, you would realize your perceptions of him were misplaced. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t be able to avoid this.

He’d give you one last chance though.

Mostly, it was to make sure he hadn’t convinced himself that you were that naive. That what he was seeing day in and day out wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He wanted to make sure that the attachment he never really let go of wasn’t altering his perception of the truth. That maybe you were still the girl he knew back then. 

He must really care about you, as the way he prepared to go about this moral evaluation went against the instincts that were relentlessly beaten into him from training for all those years to become a pro. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but realistically it was a perfect opportunity to show that even if you did resent him for blowing off all the kind sentiments you always offered without fail, at least you would be able to fend for yourself. Maybe if you passed this test he’d be able to get over the fact that you no longer thought he was capable of being good to you, with the ease of mind gained from other promising actions allowing for the energy to move on.

Honestly, he doubted that he would ever completely get over that, but at least with the notion that maybe you weren’t so helpless, he’d be able to return to the life he had before spotting you on that astonishingly coincidental night.

The sight made his blood boil―seeing you cower in fear from the men he’d sent to do his bidding. Knowing it was himself that was to blame for ripping away your sense of safety in the face of such individuals hurt him to no ends. Shinsou had to keep telling himself it was a necessary evil. There was no other way he could go on about his normal life thinking that in such a situation you wouldn’t do a thing to protect yourself.

And so he waited, eyes narrowed and calculating as the low level villains proceeded to back you into a corner. Shouting all the vile things they were going to do to you, laughing as you stumbled backwards with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You didn’t fight back. 

You didn’t call for help. 

Even as your back hit the brick wall, all you did was stand there in pure and unbridled fear, hyperventilating like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Your pursuers were a little confused at the sight too―they must’ve expected even a little resistance. But regardless, they went through with the orders they received anonymously, expecting a sum of cash for their troubles when all was said and done.

Shinsou let the scene play out for as long as possible. The seconds going by felt like hours as he silently begged you to fight back, to prove to him you hadn’t developed into a weak shell of a girl he once knew.

The quick and panicked breathing that was wracking your body got in the way of that. It was the fear that he’d let be inflicted that led you to pass out under the stress of the situation, telling Shinsou all he needed to know for what he was supposed to do with you next.

_____

Shinsou blamed himself for unknowingly convincing you to go against the ideals that you held so strongly before you vanished from his life. Even worse, he blamed you for finally believing his self-doubting words. You took them to heart, something he would’ve never expected you to do.

Mostly, he blames others for trying to take advantage of the person you’d become.

It had pushed him to do things he never wanted to. To put you in situations that you found terrifying, that confused you to no ends. And he knew from the look on your face how you were feeling.

Baffled and betrayed just as much as he was. At least he wasn’t alone in that sense.

Shinsou could admit that he could’ve been a little nicer to you after you woke up, subsequently finding yourself in an environment you’d never seen before. The only thing you recognized was him, but that did little to put you at ease once you realized he was the one to put you through so much distress in the first place.

He tried telling you that you were safe, that everything he’d done was to make sure that there were no other options aside from the current predicament. He told you that he didn’t want to see you so afraid of him, and that you didn’t need to be.

But that didn’t stop the wide eyed look you gave him whenever he came close to you. Shaking like a leaf whenever he was in the room, keeping your gaze fixed on him should he do something horrible. And he would never do something bad to you, so your reactions only made him feel so much worse.

Or at least, he thought he would never do anything to make your feelings toward him all the more apprehensive.

He was just so angry. Shinsou couldn’t get over the way you regarded him. The way you treated him like a villain. Everyone always used to tell him that that’s what he’d become. And you always told him he wouldn’t.

Yet, when he saw your face twisted in anguish for his actions, those kind words left his mind completely.

If he could just get you to say a single word, he would show you he meant no harm. But no matter what―no matter how much he tried to simply talk to you, a response never came.

And so he was always angry. Shinsou tried not to show it, to keep the intrusive thoughts and behaviours to himself. However, even that became a herculean task when you started to show pity for him.

It was the small actions.

You’d pick up after yourself, even when he told you that he’d handle everything. Shinsou would come back after a shift at the end of a particularly stressful day to see that you’d tidied the house, maybe vacuumed the floors, or cleaned the couch from the building cat hair against the fabric of the cushions where the small animal liked to sleep.

Knowing that you still resented him, yet let those complacent features shine through in your circumstances bothered him immensely. He would’ve liked it more if you stayed mad at him, at least then it would’ve shown him you were learning. That his little test of strength had paid off, and you were starting to understand the concept of what it meant to defend yourself. But even while you stayed consistent with the looks of passing despair and confliction, you never once made a move to leave him.

That wasn’t to say you enjoyed remaining chained to a bed at night, or how not once in the past month had you experienced fresh air. It was just that you didn’t ever try for the door, or even a window. Shinsou would know if you did, he cared a lot more about home security than you had after all―but the alarms signalling such an action never went off.

He knew that the main reason for why he kept you with him was because really, he loved you more than he loved any person in his life before. Having you around him constantly was great, even better was the fact that he knew nobody else would have the same opportunity.

The only problem was his guilt, and the way you mindlessly fueled it. That’s what kept him angry.

At himself.

At you.

At everyone.

It was only so long before those wrathful emotions took hold of his common sense.

Generally speaking, the atmosphere was calming. The fireplace was lit in the background, casting a warm hue to the dining room. A storm was beating against the window outside, the noise of the water hitting the glass dulcifying. Shinsou had gone through the trouble of cooking your favorite for dinner, it turning out better than expected. The pleasant aroma was the final touch to stave off rampant nerves, welcoming only thoughts to ease the mind.

But Shinsou’s mind was everything but at ease―you weren’t eating.

The issue was a persisting one. He didn’t know why you were doing it, only that the problem was becoming more of an issue as time went on. You were losing weight, becoming sickly looking. The food was right in front of you, and yet you remained still.

He couldn’t put up with it, breaking the silence that always hung unless he was the one to make noise. “You need to eat something.”

Just barely, you flinched at his words. He didn’t bother coming off soft, knowing he needed the assertiveness if he was ever going to get through to you. Your eyes flitted to meet his, not a second did they remain in place before going back to staring at your lap.

He persisted, “I thought this was your favorite―did you get sick of it after you left?”

The reference to your untimely departure had your brows furrowing slightly, a worried look forming across your face.

A deep sigh escaped Shinsou’s lips, him leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table while regarding you with a stern expression. “I promise I won’t use my quirk on you. I know that’s what you’re worried about, but you don’t need to be.”

Thick silence settled back into the room. He didn’t make a noise for fear of interrupting any potential motivation you might be having to respond. But you stayed still, eyes remaining downcasted. And more importantly―unspeaking.

It was probably a good thing that you weren’t looking at Shinsou, given the heated glare he was sending your way. With each passing second spent without you acknowledging his promise that you’d only heard a thousand times before now, the feeling of intense frustration inside him festered.

Another few moments, then a harsh “Fuck it,” and Shinsou was grabbing both of your plates. He had finished eating, always waiting patiently for you to do the same. It was clear you weren’t going to do so tonight though, and honestly, he was too pissed to even give you the chance to anyway.

He brought them into the kitchen, setting his plate in the sink while retrieving something to put your dinner in, should you be more motivated to eat it later. “You can just...go to your room for the rest of the night.” Shinsou spoke the words with a certain edge to his tone, not even regarding you as he talked over his shoulder. 

Why couldn’t you just do this one little thing for him? It wasn’t hard―the food was good, even if it turned out not to be your favorite anymore. Was it really that difficult to even acknowledge the fact that he put so much work into making sure you were well fed?

The sound of your bare feet padding against the tiled kitchen flooring alerted him to your presence. You stood a few feet away from him, expression looking conflicted and, what he hated the most―pitying.

“I told you to go to your room, unless you’re ready to eat now?”

He watched as your eyes flitted to the dirty dishes, giving him another brief glance before you made your way to the sink. Carefully, you emptied it and began running the water, leaving a finger under the stream to wait for it to heat up.

Shinsou stood frozen, a hand gripping the edge of the counter that had his knuckles turning white.

“You don’t need to do that. Go back to your room.”

You paid no mind to his words, clearly not recognizing them for what they were―a demand.

Seeing this, Shinsou walked over to the sink, leaning over you. “What part of ‘go back to your room’ do you not understand?” He was trying so hard not to raise his voice, yet as he spoke his tone only grew in strength.

Ever so vaguely, you let out a small huff in frustration. You just wanted to help. It was the only thing you could think to do so as not to piss him off. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that you doing so was exactly what was making him so mad.

And he didn’t realize that you thought you had no other choice.

Shinsou’s hand slammed down on the faucet handle, cutting off the stream and finally raising his voice to let out the pent up anger he’d been suppressing for so long. “So what, first you can’t give me a fucking response and now your straight up ignoring me?!” This time he forcefully moved you from the sink, shoving you away from it. “I try so fucking hard and you can’t even listen to me now?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

The moment the words slipped from his mouth, Shinsou froze in his place. You had stumbled back from the force of his push, now balancing yourself on the counter of an island that rested in the middle of the kitchen. You were looking at him wide-eyed, scared and shaking.

Like you had been when he sent those lowly criminals on you.

Like he was a villain.

“I...I didn’t mean that.”

You were already backing away, retreating like he would try to hurt you again, not only with his words.

His voice was quiet, as if any shift towards further aggression would have you breaking down. But it was too late when the tears were already streaming down your face.

“Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be like that, I promise. Just―”

You were rushing back to your room before he could finish his sentence. The door slammed shut, him flinching as the loud noise reverberated off the walls of his home. 

Three times now.

Shinsou had the courage to act as a hero, selflessly risking his own well being for the sake of others. He disregarded his feelings to make people he didn’t even know more comfortable, he knew how to de-escalate the tension and troubles of any situation.

And yet, this was the third time he had watched you leave him. The third time he remained in his place as you walked, or in this case, ran away from him. The coward that hid inside him while he remained a pro at work revealed itself in your presence.

He hated himself for it.

But he would fix things. Mend the gap in your relationship that was keeping you from opening up, and keeping him from being there for you when you needed it the most.

_____

Shinsou cursed himself for not doing it sooner.

It would only make sense for him to conduct some form of research on you, seeing as how close he’d made you be with him. He was just so caught up in his own feelings and inner turmoil to take the time to, and now he wishes he’d done it the moment he came back into contact with you.

Looking at the records on file of you nearly made his heart stop. For one, they were extensive, forcing him to spend copious amounts of time just sitting in his study and reading for hours.

The moment you ran off after dinner, he’d locked your bedroom door and left, resolving to find answers. And find them he did. 

In the form of hospital records dating back to the very day you disappeared before high school.

You were in a car accident. The vehicle that had collided with the one your parents were driving hit the side of the car, but only at the back of it―where you were sitting. And it was bad, you had to undergo multiple surgeries to fix the damage inflicted onto your fragile body.

Amongst the repairs, the file of a brain surgery stood out. Along with the records of your rehabilitation, Shinsou learnt everything he needed to know.

You weren’t avoiding his quirk―you physically couldn’t talk.

The accident and the surgery left you unable to, and all this time you were putting up with his incessant encouragement to speak because you couldn’t tell him to stop. You’d left back then because of your inability to communicate like the average person, your parents moving you away for a fresh start―it was easier than having to explain to everyone what had happened. When you were older you moved back, it being the only place you truly were familiar with.

Shinsou connected the dots. Your physical condition and how it affected that of your mental state. Given your limitations, he could understand how you came to be so lenient with the way people treated you. You couldn’t tell them if you were upset, so it must have become easier to just let life have its way with you.

He clutched the stack of files in his hand, pausing outside your bedroom door. Even on his side of the frame, the quiet sniffles escaping your body were all too distinct for him. The sound made his heart clench in anguish, being painfully aware that it was all his doing. And if he had just taken the time to get over his own intrusive thoughts and stopped blaming you for everything, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

Hesitantly, Shinsou brought his hand up to the door, giving a few knocks against the wood. When he heard the sad sound of your cries being stifled, he fished the keys to the locks from his pocket. Pushing the door open slowly, both as a secondary motion to let you know he was entering, and to use the time to brace himself, he let his eyes fall upon your form.

You had curled up into a ball on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. There was a blanket held tightly in your hands, shielding most of your body from his face. Your eyes met, and despite the dim lighting of the lamp to your right, he could see the puffiness around your eyes.

Shinsou stepped through the threshold of the door, letting it shut behind him. Your eyes remained trained on him as he made his way to the side of the bed you were closest to, sitting down on the edge.

Carefully, he set the stack of papers atop the sheets, sliding them closer towards your shaking body. He waited patiently as you fearfully reached a hand out and took the files from him.

As you opened the yellow folder keeping the documents in place, Shinsou broke the heavy silence.

“I didn’t know. And―I feel like shit for not finding out sooner.”

He had no clue how you’d react, so dreadfully, he kept his gaze on you as your fingers flipped through a few pages. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think―”

What he said now was more important than ever, knowing just how shaken your state must be due to his stupidly impulsive actions. Shinsou paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling before continuing.

“When you refused to respond to me the night I caught you at the bar...I thought it was because you were avoiding my quirk. This whole time―I assumed you’d given up on me after we had that fight, before you left.”

Your lower lip was trembling as he continued, a few voiceless sobs escaping your broken form.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was just frustrated that you weren’t responding, but that’s not an excuse for the way I acted.”

By now you had abandoned the flimsy records, curling in on yourself as your emotions took over. Shinsou watched as your body convulsed with sobs, listening to the way your breath escaped rapidly, with the typical sound of your voice accompanying the action missing.

He wouldn’t idly sit by as you hurt anymore. That was something he used to do, and look at where it got him.

Removing the folder from your hands and placing it atop the nightstand, Shinsou scooped you up in his arms. He took your place on the bed and sat down with you on his lap. Gently, he held you close to his chest, a hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion as you continued to cry into his shoulder.

“I promise not to ever do something like that again. I know none of this was your fault, and I understand why you behave the way you do now.”

He knew that you’d still fear him after what he’d done, and the fact only made the sinking feeling in his chest worse. It was his fault you were so distraught, he could only assume that you were unable to find any way to tell him what was wrong before. And Shinsou had blamed you for your situation, when really it was out of your control entirely.

Now, he would have to make up for the damage he’d done.

Shinsou wasn’t sure how he was going to go about making amends for the problems he’d created, but one thing was for sure―it was still his job to protect you from yourself. He understood now why you’d grown to be someone who takes things in stride, far too much than one normally should. The way you behaved wasn’t okay, whether you quite realized that fact or not. 

As far as he was concerned, your vulnerability wasn’t to be taken lightly. He’d seen first hand what could happen should he abandon you. 

Letting you leave wasn’t an option.

You needed him, even if it took you a while to understand that. Shinsou knew you would likely continue to resent him for the treatment he’d subjected you to―anyone would. But he could handle it, that was his responsibility after all.

His fonder feelings for you never changed, only growing in passion the more time he spent with you. At this point, he wouldn’t be able to part with you even if you proved you could take care of yourself.

And so he resolved that you would never stray from his side, and he would always be there to take care of you.

Shinsou would’ve said more to you, but in the moment he doubted you would even hear him amidst the distress you were in. The voiceless sobbing continued, and he did his best to calm you, gently rocking you while whispering reassurances through the motions. He didn’t know what you were thinking, and he knew you’d never be able to tell him. 

But actions spoke louder than words, and right now they told him that even just a bit, the way he held you was slowly calming you down with each shaky breath you took. So he didn’t let go, and you didn’t fight him.

In that moment, he knew he’d finally done something right. He was there for you in the way you’d been there for him all those years ago. It was how he wished he’d been when the regret plagued his being at the recollection of you walking away from him.

Shinsou wouldn’t let you walk away anymore. He’d take care of your silent troubles in ways that he knew nobody was doing for you before, in ways that you needed someone to help you with.

He understood what was to be expected of him now, and he would no longer let any self satisfying behaviour get in between the two of you ever again.

[spirits-n-giggles]

I thought he turned back because he liked her petting his snout and he didn’t want to do anything to give that away. Or he was surprised he liked her touching his fur. Not gonna lie that sneeze threw me. Why did he sneeze? Side out: I know he’s a dog not cat, but does he make any purring noises? Like a dogs pur sound kind of? Some wolves can purr. Inquiring mind here 😉

Okay! FINE! I give up! 

Here you go! 😍

Fully fledged, and with art at the end to boot.

Enjoy!

The First Time Rin Met Doggy!Sesshy

So, you want to know about the first time Rin ever saw Sesshomaru in full Doggy!Sesshy form, eh?

Hmm.... It would have to be at some point during the original series, yeah? So Rin would still have to be what demons would call a tiny human. It would happen in the evening, after the night would fall. The camping party of misfits would consist of Lord Sesshomaru, Jaken, Ah and Un, and the tiny human, Rin. They would all lay at their own leisure in a safe area to camp, complete with shade to stay hidden in the large bushes and trees.

They would have sat for a while, whilst the toad demon and the tiny human would feast upon the catch they would have made earlier on in the day. With bellies filled, it wouldn’t be long before Rin would finally find herself in a sleeping state. This would be a queue for Sesshomaru to go and hunt for his own food, as he would order Jaken to stay behind and keep guard over the camp. He would only travel as far as he needed to in order to obtain his food, but that would vary depending on how far away camp would be from his preferred diet.

What does he eat?

Use your imagination.

That’s not what this oneshot is about. :)

Something would happen while Sesshomaru would hunt, and it would most likely be a huge giant big-headed demon of some kind that would have smelled the dwindling campfire from not too far away. Careful to guard itself with its own personal demonic energy, this pathetic waste of space would cleverly hide its scent as it would happen upon the camp while the moon hung high in the sky. This stupid demon would believe Sesshomaru to be rather small compared to it’s large stature, and unfortunately for this idiotic demon, it would soon find out what happens when one assumes.

This filler episode demon would have waited until all was clear to attack the camp so he wouldn’t have to try very hard for his own dinner. With the larger demon long gone, this moron would emerge from the trees in the night and spot the sleeping girl and pathetic goblin-looking toad and see them as nothing more than a nice midnight snack. This causes Rin to release a blood-curdling scream. All this stupid demon would know was that the bigger demon was gone so these little tiny nothings be ripe for the picking. Sure there was still a dragon but surely he could handle one and be done with his business before the bigger demon would return, right?

As Sesshomaru would make his one and only kill to eat, he would immediately hear the cry of Rin. It would take naught but a hop and a jump for him to get to her, only to see that she would be lifted into some giant’s mouth. Ah and Un could only do so much while muzzled, and stupid Jaken would get himself caught, again. Sesshoamru would arrive to see the size of such a spectacle, and figures that it would just be easier to settle this the old fashioned way.

He would sigh at such a pathetic excuse of a demon, and he wouldn’t even have have to think as he would suddenly -- *- BAMF -* -- transform into full Doggy!Sesshy. Doggy!Sesshy would be a big vicious beasty, and poor Rin wouldn’t have even been able to see the transformation since she’d be too busy with almost being eaten, and all that.

The dumb demon would have had no time to react to the sudden giant-ass dog demon that would suddenly come lunging towards him. Doggy!Sesshy would swiftly kill the vermin, with little to show for it since his blood would taste absolutely disgusting to the Demon Lord. After mere seconds, both of the demon’s arms would separate from the rest of its body (cause duh) , and Sesshomaru would catch Rin (and Jaken) on the safety of his back to guide them down to safety.

It would take a few moments for the damsels to come back to their senses. “W-what happened?” Rin’s voice would speak as she’d subconsciously hold onto whatever she had landed on. She would look up to see that she’d be in the sky, flying as if she were on the back of Ah and Un, but she would see her two-headed friend as he would anxiously await her back on the ground. She would then look down to see white fur under her as they would glide in the air, and the fur would feel somewhat familiar, but not enough for her to directly understand what had just happened.

"Lord Sesshomaru!" She would scream for his attention. She would know that he’d sometimes leave the camp to eat, but a demon was just killed by another in front of her. "Lord Sesshomaru where are you?" He would usually hear her cry. It wouldn’t be like him not to show up to a fight like this.

She would be eager to get off this random.... demon and search for her lord.

"You fool!” Rin would hear Jaken’s voice from behind her. She would look to see her friend desperately trying to hold on to any kind of fur under him. This IS Lord Sesshomaru!" Jaken would berate the tiny human and her ignorance while holding on for dear life.

“Hold on Jaken! I’ve got you!” She would be close enough to be able to pull him up to safety by his unique looking staff.

Jaken would be thankful, though he wouldn’t want to be. “Meddlesome girl. I could have made it on my own.”

“What do you mean that this is Lord Sesshomaru?” How would she have known? This would be her first experience seeing him this way, after all. Doggy!Sesshy would take this time to slow them down and eventually come to a smooth landing.

“Don’t you know anything?” Jaken would screech as he would jump off of his Lord’s back. “Lord Sesshomaru is a Dog Demon. This is his true form! The look of a human is an optional one, but it does keep his true form rested and at bay so he doesn’t go crazy and kill the entire world with his vicious power and anger!” Jaken would cower at the very idea of the story.  Rin would follow and slide off of Sesshomaru’s side, but he would stand there for a moment in full form. Rin would be shy about her movements, but she would be careful as she would slowly come to see the front of his dog-like face.

This would be the face of a great beast. He would be large and white. His snout would be pointed and vicious, and his sneer would hold a look of what most would consider to be pure evil. He would growl as he would refrain from releasing any of his poison around her, and such a sound would resonate within her ears. He would be fully aware, watching her intently, waiting for her every move. He would only imagine what his horrid form would look to her. ‘Surely, she must be frozen in terror. Look at how still she stands.’ He would believe it to be fear that he’d see in her eyes.

Nothing about his true form would be recognizable to her, except the familiar markings on his face. His two stripes on each of his human-like cheeks would morph into one jagged one on each in this form. The moon in the center of his head would make Rin wonder if the moon somehow helped his power in some way. Her disposition would calm as she would eventually be able to see him through his demonic form. "Lord Sesshomaru?" She would ask, looking into one very large red eye.

It would seem to be him after all, as he would shortly transform back to his usual form- the form that she'd be most familiar with. She would shield her eyes of the wind that would flow out of him.

He would stand, calm and emotionless, as per usual, but he would carry a disposition that would somehow be more quiet and standoff-ish. There would be no voice from Jaken, this time, and Ah and Un would always prefer to be the silent contenders in these situations. Sesshomaru would be waiting for Rin to scream and run from him in terror after what she had just seen. He would have just transformed into a vicious beast and murdered in cold blood right in front of her. In a way, he’d be no different than the one that just tried to kill her, so she must be terrified...

Right? ‘I really am a monster.’

Rin would not notice the trepidation in his movements. “Wow...” She’d whisper. Her eyes would grow wide with a smile to match. "Can you do that again?" She'd suddenly ask with hopeful eyes.

Sesshomaru’s eyes would widen at her sudden request... and for just a moment, Sesshomaru’s voice would be caught. ‘...What?’

"HOW DARE YOU REQUEST SUCH A THING." Jaken‘s voice would screech in her ear, scurrying over to the tiny human. "Lord Sesshomaru does not waste such valuable demonic energy to entertain the witless demands of a pathetic little human like you."

"Silence." Sesshomaru's voice would only have to utter a single word to get the demon toad to quiet himself.

“Y-yes milord.” The servant would do as he was told, sheepishly hiding behind the tiny human Rin in the process.

Sesshomaru would be the Great Demon Lord of the West. It would take naught but little energy for him to do something as simple as transform into his full self for a second time. The air around him would start to pulsate once again, as would the echo of his heartbeat. The wind would ripple through the tall grass and the leaves in the trees. Rin's eyes would grow in awe as she would watch his hair start to freely dance with the wind. Before she’d know it, a dangerous red color of his demonic eyes would return as the usual soft amber color of his eyes would fade away. His gaze would land directly on her.

Rin would stand completely still, wanting to see the entire transformation. There would be a certain something inside of her that would never want to look away. Rin would be an empathic human being, and this power could be very valuable in the future, should she desire to continue down the path of divinity. But for this moment in time, it would be able to help her see the beauty in such an extremely wild and dangerous moment as showing one’s true demon form like this. This would speak to her heart, though her mind would still need to develop a little more before she would be able to fully understand this power. For now, she would just be able to enjoy this moment.

Oh, what magic this would be to her- but Jaken would be smart to grab her arm as he would run from the blast that he knew would come. The human would watch in awe as Sesshomaru’s human-like being would become wrapped in the fur that would usually stay at his side, right before fully transforming in size with the power of his demonic light.

Clad in his full beast form, Sesshomaru would stand tall and mighty. The hiss in his growl would even scare away the sleeping birds that nest high in the trees, but Rin would pull herself away from Jaken's hiding spot and make her way towards this new Demon Lord Sesshomaru. This full transformation would be the raw and natural state of a creature that would call himself the Demon Lord of the West, and this would intrigue Rin to no end, no matter what age she might be.

He would actually be a... dog.

Her eyes would be directly on him as he would gently turn to see her with one very large and perhaps a little bit of a timid eye, as well. She would take her time making her way towards him, but she wouldn't hesitate to take the first step as soon as possible. His growl would come from deep within his throat, as if warning her not to get too close. This would be a recurring theme in Sesshomaru’s character, whether he’d notice it or not. This would just be another way for him to push her away, and to remind her that he is not good, he is not kind, and he is definitely not nice.

He is a monster, and he would always be a monster.

She would pause, but she would not be afraid. He would be in a defensive stance, but his body language would eventually simmer down to a calmer state, as she would grow even closer. Her mind would only be on Sesshomaru with youthful eyes of her own, but not with fear of him hurting her, but with fear of him being frightened of her footsteps.

The closer she would get, the more his growl would dim. Jaken's eyes would be large, as he would observe Rin’s courage. Even he wouldn’t dare to get so close to such danger. His jaw would seem to hit the ground.

Sesshomaru would then lower his snout down to Rin’s gaze. He would only be able to see her with one eye, but one would be enough. Rin would eventually be close enough to gently, yet gradually feel the familiar fur at the side of his nose. She would know the soothing familiarly of his fur, for it would be thickened with his wild nature, and warm to the touch. Here she would come to the understanding that his Moko-moko would be a part of him somehow. as she would continue petting the bridge of his nose.

This gentle action of hers would cause his eyes to gently come to a close. He would feel her kind touch, and it would be a foreign feeling. It would almost seem as though he... might... actually....

His eyes would suddenly pop open wide, and he would yank his face away from her, which would frighten the poor girl and she would end up falling back with a small scream. Her fear ridden voice would cause him to immediately transform back to normal as if nothing happened.

After a moment of defining silence between the small camp of beings, none would dare make a sound. They would watch Sesshomaru as he would slowly, but surely raise his (only) arm (at the time) . The silence would remain until the smallest ... *sneeze*...? would suddenly come from their Demon Lord of the West.

Did... Did Rin just make Lord Sesshomaru... sneeze?

"Let's go." Sesshomaru says as he turns away from the camp. "Since you're all awake, we might as well travel on."

She did! Rin made Lord Sesshomaru sneeze...

Well...Sort of.

He had to think of something, didn’t he? She was PETTING him like a DOG. That was unacceptable... right?

A-and it’s not like he actually enjoyed it or anything... right?

Never.

That would be considered affection.

Affection?

What is that?

Unfortunately, he would have absolutely no idea of what affection would be, so he wouldn’t understand why he would feel something ... positive in her gentle touch to his demonic form. And he definitely didn’t use the excuse of a fake sneeze so he could..... touch... the spot that she touched in his own state of shock.

Please.

This Sesshomaru? Have feelings?

Ridiculous.

Rin would scurry on up as everyone would continue on. ‘Lord Sesshomaru....’ she would think to herself. ‘You truly are beautiful. Inside and out.’ She would smile a smile that would be felt by the entire group.

‘I am a monster,’ he would think to himself, ‘but... perhaps I can be a decent one.’ Lord Sesshomaru, too, would hide a vague grin as they would venture on with their adventure.

Art and story by: Me :)

[hiro-gari]

Batarou Headcanon - Yakuza AU

Hello guys, it's me again bringing more Batarou headcanon! 👀✨

While I'm still trying to finish my writing on webcomic Batarou headcanon/ficlet/oneshot (??), also battling with my stressed out condition, I will offering this silly AU headcanon instead in the meantime. Warning: implication of nsfw-ish thing towards the end, but nothing explicit, also many inaccurate depiction of the topic matters I'm so sorry.

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Badd is the firstborn of the strongest Yakuza clan, and also the Yakuza family's successor after both of his parents were assassinated by enemy clan.

The assassination happened when Badd was only a little kid while Zenko still a baby. Badd and Zenko survived from the tragedy after being saved by Bang, the leader and owner of martial art dojo, who worked as Badd's family bodyguard. They were both raised by Bang until Badd is reaching his adulthood, ready to take over his family's legacy.

Badd felt so sad after the death of his parents, sometimes mourning for them every night after Zenko was asleep. He swore to himself that he wont let the tragedy happening again, not when he still has the only precious person left from his family: Zenko. Once Badd reaching coming of age and finishing his school, he would be the Boss of his family clan.

Badd thought he wont get a friend because of his status and his intimidating look, until Bang bringing his adopted son into the dojo and introducing him to Badd. His name is Garou.

Garou, Bang's adopted son, was taught to be the next family bodyguard by Bang. So he can be the greatest martial artist to protect Badd for the rest of their life.

At first Garou was reluctant to take his future responsibility. But after seeing Badd, the most beautiful yet fierce person he ever witnessed, Garou gladly accept it. Especially after Badd bravely saving him from the bullies at school, showing how determinated he was to protect anyone he considered as his "family". Thus they started their relationship as childhood bestfriend, either in school or their home at Bang's dojo.

During that time, Garou encouraged himself to training as the best as he can in martial art. There's no way a bodyguard is weaker than the one they supposed to protect. He didn't want someone hurting Badd in the future, like what happened to his entire family. Badd is his bestfriend, his future boss, and also his first love.

Garou would be more than happy to be on Badd's side forever, protecting Badd from anyone who has ill intention towards him. It doesn't matter if Badd returned his feelings or not, because the most important thing is Badd's own happiness.

On the other hand, Badd was astonished by Garou's development and determination to become the greatest martial artist. It's like the "Fighting Spirit" is not only being inherited by his family's lineage, but also could be obtained by anyone who has strong determination. Someone who can be Badd's equal, not a subordinate no matter what people say. That's why Badd likes Garou, maybe more than just a friend along the way.

Badd also started to strengthen himself by learning how to self-defence, and to strike offensive attacks if it was needed. He didn't take martial art lesson like Garou did from Bang, instead Badd creating his own combat style using his family heirloom: a metal bat. Besides, it matched with Badd's current image as delinquent punk kid. In which could be frightening enough once he becomes full-fledged Yakuza Boss.

At school, because Garou and Badd didn't have the same class as Badd was one year younger than Garou, they would hangout on school breaktime and after school. Despite being a Yakuza's son and looking like tough kid, it doesn't mean that Badd is a bully. In fact, he was the one who becomes school protector along with Garou. There's bully gang trying to pick on poor classmates? These delinquent duo would showed up and make sure they wont get 2nd chance to do that again at all (everyone didn't know what exactly Garou and Badd have done but clearly they put the fear of god into those bullies effectively).

After school, they were either hangout on local diner/family restaurant/cafe/ice cream parlor/game arcade depends of their moods, so they could still living their live as normal teenagers for awhile. Or immediately went home at Bang's dojo to do training routines. Sometimes Badd and Garou training separately, sometimes they would sparring with eachother. Most favorite time was everytime they're trying on new techniques onto eachother in sparring session at training field, while Bang supervising them the whole time from dojo's main building entrance.

When Garou and Badd weren't in training hours, they spend time to do their own hobby as a form of relaxation. Garou likes to study in Bang's library or writing poems, whereas Badd have a fondness on cooking or baking to try out his mother's recipes, Zenko often joined him, too. Sometimes whenever Badd has difficulty on studying for exams, he always comes to Garou for help, so he ended up as Badd's tutor. In exchange, Garou asking Badd to cook for him since his cooking is delicious, thus Badd making special lunchbox for Garou as the payment.

Imagine after both of them graduated from highschool, Bang with the entire Badd's family alliance clans holding an inauguration ceremony for Badd. Badd was officially becomes the Yakuza boss and the leader of his family clan, taking his family legacy as the survivor. Then Garou pledged his loyalty for Badd as his bodyguard during the ceremony, vowed to be always be on Badd's side for the rest of his life and would never betrayed him at all cost.

Imagine Garou kneeled before Badd when he pledged his loyalty. And as soon as Garou finished his vow, he took Badd's hand and kissed his knuckle softly. Then looking at Badd with so much adoration yet there's hidden fire in those golden eyes, his trademark smug grin slowly showing on his handsome face. If Badd didn't fully realized he was in the middle of inauguration ceremony, he would thinks Garou was proposing him! Not a bad thought, actually. Maybe someday Garou would do that, if it was allowed. Nothing can stop Badd from hoping.

Imagine how badass these two when they're on-duty, and their compatible dynamic is legendary among the clans. Everyone who is Badd's family subordinate really admired and respected them wholeheartedly. Not only both are very strong equally, they're also charismatic in their own way.

Badd is a good and kindhearted leader despite looking rough on the outside, but never hesitated to show the frightening side if someone trying to mess with his beloved family. A feared leader for the enemies, but a loving leader for the family. Also very protective for Zenko and Garou. Has the alias as "Metal Bat" regarding his choice of weapon during the battle. His "Fighting Spirit" would be activated as the ultimate power only when it was in a very necessary time, but enough to put a fear onto his enemies. Not very good at delivering speech at meeting but always has the best motivational words. Secretly in love with his own bestfriend a.k.a. his bodyguard. Badd has 2 kind of tattoos: Dragon tattoo on his whole left arm and Phoenix tattoo on his back.

Garou is a total monster when in the middle of combat, especially when it comes to protect Badd, Zenko, and their entire family. Have excellent sense to detect any assassin who tried to target Badd and would eliminated them in a matter of second. Basically the Best Guardian ever. That's why their enemies would call him as "Human Monster" based on his strength and abilities to fight. But even a "monster" still has the pure and softest heart for Badd, and only Badd. Have a soft spot for any underdog and bullied kids. Garou was kinda spokeperson for Badd since he's better at delivering speech than Badd. Garou has 2 kind of tattoos: Oni/Demon tattoo on his left torso and Wolf tattoo on his back.

Zenko is the "Princess" among the family clans, but that doesn't mean she couldn't participate on being badass. She was very intelligent and the most sophisticated person among the three. Also learning battōjutsu martial art for self-defense, it's always fascinating seeing Zenko training using real sword so elegantly. Really adores her big brothers, yet never hesitated to slap some sense onto them when they're being such dumbasses. Very proud of what Badd has becomes. In the future after reaching adulthood, Zenko has 2 kind of tattoos: Cherry-blossom tattoos on her whole right arm and Samurai tattoo on her back.

Both of Garou and Badd also taking Tareo as a part of their family, after saving Tareo's family from being the enemy's hostage in a war between clans. Thus, Tareo becomes Zenko's BFF and possibly also a great trusted advisor for Badd's family in the future. Admired Garou very much. Garou inherited most of his knowledges and nerdy side to Tareo, hoping they would be useful someday. In the future after reaching adulthood, Tareo has 2 kind of tattoos: Koi tattoo on his whole right arm and Lotus tattoo on his left arm.

Imagine Garou and Badd had been mutual pining the whole time, but managed to keep it down so their family and subordinates wont noticed. Once Garou successfully confessed his romantic feeling for Badd (very awkward but sweet nonetheless), in which Badd accepted immediately, they're having a secret relationship behind the family's back. Because they didn't want to cause a ruckus between the clan family just because the Boss is currently doing lots of scandalous things together with his own bodyguard for every single day. Also the fact that Badd the Boss is the bottom most of the time, since he prefers to have Garou being an aggressive top (but there's no way Badd would never be submissive, as he always serve the good challenges for Garou to prove who's Boss).

Eventhough the family hadn't know yet about their "scandalous things", they could see how affectionate Badd towards Garou and vice versa. It's almost like those two men are lovers instead of only boss-bodyguard or bestfriends.

The way Garou being so protective for Badd, the way Badd patching up Garou's battle wounds, the way they're always looked so harmonious on fighting side-by-side in combat, the way they're gazing at eachother whenever they think noone noticed, the way Garou always kissing Badd's knuckles everytime they were going to clans war, also the way Badd kissing Garou's forehead as a blessing, the way they looked so happy when spending off-duty freetime together doing whatever they like at the moment, etc.

All of those proving that whatever relationship Garou and Badd have together is already beyond what the family members could imagine.

One time the family finally found out their nature of relationship was when Badd gotten hurt seriously after failed attempt of assassination, done by the order from another leader of clan who eventually becomes a traitor in the alliance. Garou was a second too late on completely protecting Badd because he didn't expect that there was a traitor among the family alliance. Knowing Badd was hurt sent Garou in berserk mode as he annihilated all the rest of traitor's assassins in the building, while Badd's family taking care of their unconscious Boss.

The whole betrayal angered the entire alliance members, especially Badd's core family. Garou's wrath was totally understandable because he was the closest person for Badd, seeing the devastation he caused upon the traitor clan. Zenko was in rage once she knows who was betrayed her big brother, she almost going to execute that person by herself with her own sword. Bang, who had seen this kind of assassination happened twice on Badd's family, and already considered Badd as his own son, in a silent fury immediately arranging what punishments the traitor clan would get.

The traitor clan was punished severely, and its leader was executed on the following day. Badd still resting in his home, in which guarded securely by his subordinates. Zenko was helping the caretakers to heal Badd's wounds, worrying for her big brother's condition. Garou never leaving his bedside, his hands holding Badd's hands as he quietly apologizes profusely for letting Badd hurted, for nearly losing Badd because of his own carelessness. Garou was ready if Badd wants to punish him, anything will do to get his forgiveness.

Regaining consciousness a little bit after hearing Garou's long rambling, Badd weakly ordering him to shut up and stop apologizing, because there's nothing wrong with Garou. In fact, Badd was actually grateful for Garou's good reflex to prevent the assassination from being 100% successful. That's why Badd still survive and alive, soon to be back being the Big Boss again. He smiled tenderly to reassure Garou, the hands that Garou was currently holding caressing him back.

If Garou still a small weakling kid like back then, he would be sobbing pitifully seeing his only bestfriend almost died. But now as a full-grown adult and the strongest martial artist, he just silently crying out of relief having his secret lover smiling brightly for him.

Just like a Phoenix, Badd wont die too easily, always regenerating fast and reviving again so he can comes back stronger than before. As Badd said, "Death is just a flesh wound, you can totally revive through fighting spirit and have another go!".

Wiping Garou's tears away with his hands, Badd whispering a "Thank you" for him. He cupped the bodyguard's cheeks before trying to get on sitting position, which Garou quickly supporting Badd's back by pulling him closer with his arms so he could sit properly on the bed. Now that they're facing eachother, Badd slowly reduce the distance between them until he could kiss Garou softly on the lips.

Garou was so happy to have Badd in his arms again, without any hesitation he reciprocated the kiss so it would go deeper, one hand still supporting Badd's back while the other caressing his nape, pulling the Boss even more closer than before. As the kiss becomes intimate, Badd humming in joy while his arms encircled Garou's neck, never letting him go.

They both were deep in passionate moment to notice that some of their family members saw the entire thing from the window, or from the door when the others wanted to relay the meeting report to Garou so he could tell it to their Boss. But since they were already in their own world and looked so happy, they just backed off silently and keeping the secret for the sake of the Boss. Or trying to cleanse their minds because it was "too much information to see".

Despite their status, with Badd as the infamous Yakuza Boss and Garou as his monster bodyguard, the family wont mind about their love life. As long as Garou keeps their Boss happy, why not? They both deserved everything best in their life..

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---- THE END ----

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Notes:

I'm so sorry for spawning another dumb AU headcanon again! And for working on completely impromptu writings instead continuing current WIP aaaah I can't focused enough my mind was going everywhere-- 😫😅🙏💦

Originally I was currently working for webcomic headcanon feat. short haired Fedex man (or mover?) Garou and tired Neo Heroes Badd, but something happened irl made me stressed out for whole 2 days nonstop. My mind was like a bottomless pit full of darker thoughts, I tried to think something anything so I wont be too focused on those thoughts. Hufff..

Then suddenly, this headcanon was born! Idk why I got this idea but I saw a Batarou fanart when scrolling through my phone gallery, it has nothing to do with Yakuza things but it sparked the whole idea! It was just Garou and Badd wearing matching Boyfriend Jackets™ with delinquent-esque tattoos motifs on the fabrics, with Badd resting on Garou's thigh while they're holding hands, both blushing brightly. I wish I could show you all but I forgot the source, since it was older fanworks from a Batarou Japanese artist on twitter 😢

I even trying to search what's popular tattoos motifs for yakuza members, and which one that matched their position/personality/depiction. It was kinda fun, imho.

Did you notice that tattoos placement for Badd and Zenko are mirrorring eachother? And that the tattoos motifs on their arms = their images (Dragon and Cherry-blossom, respectively), on their back = their way of life (Phoenix and Samurai, respectively)? Or Garou's tattoos, Demon on the front = his mask/job, while Wolf on the back = his true nature as both predator and protector? While Tareo's tattoos, Koi on the right arm = his soft and loving nature, Lotus on the left arm = his life journey to reach his full potential?

Also because I like the image of Zenko handling a sword like a badass, I was researching which sword martial art that suits her, both to self-defense and also to combat in emergency times. After looking through the types of sword martial art, I choose battōjutsu since it looks awesome yet still so elegant! Kinda punny when Badd choosing to use bat (literal bat) for fighting, whereas Zenko using battō (swordmanship) for fighting. Both words has similar pronounciation in Japanese, lmao! 😆

I hoped you enjoyed this AU, despite I know this wasn't impressionable enough as usual I'm so sorry. This idea was only done for 1 hour, another 1 hour to edit so it would coherent enough, so the quality was not quite good enough.. 😔 And after re-reading for several times, I just realized that I reused many elements/dynamic from my WereVamp AU welp, there goes me not being a creative person, already proven several times hhhh 😓

If there's anyone who wants to say something about this AU, please let me know. I'm always happy to receive some feedback even for the smallest, it's okay 👀💦👉👈 Also if anyone interested to use this Batarou AU, I will gladly rolling out the red carpet for you~ 👍❤❤

Thank you always for: @hiro-gari, @the-goddessfighter, @kaincuro, @garous-nipple, @jusqu-une-etudiante, @guby1620, @lovelybutnot-ablankcanvas, and @personne-tmblr, also all of Batarou shippers in the fandom! Thank you for always putting up with me on my lowly stupid af writings, I LOVE YOU guys! 😚❤💜💙💖💝💐

Wished me luck I can bounce back from the depression soon (I haven't getting any sleep for a whole day by the time I wrote this sentence ehehehe), and I hope you have great days, guys. Thank you all.. 🙏🙇💕💞💖🌼🌻

-Little1993lamb-

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~Lilia:

dw I gotchu😉 it’s opm_small_dduck on Twitter, their art is amazing ✨ I knew exactly which one u meant, definitely sets the tone for this hc!!

YAAAS tho I LOVE this AU! Especially them growing up together and having a reliable partner while being raised to fill their unique roles AWWW. They’ve had each other’s backs since the beginning and nobody better mess with them! Big Boss Badd 😤 it suits him so well 👏

The scene at the end tho 🥺 agh, I can imagine how shitty Garou would feel if something happened to Badd under his watch 😖 even if there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, he’d still be all emotional about it... Just might make out with the Yakuza Boss in front of his family without a second thought.., 🤷🏻‍♀️💗

And yes omg I’m love the tats!! The symbolism 👌 you nailed it!! Sword wielding Yakuza Zenko though 🙇‍♀️ Queen. Yes.

Thank you so much for this anon!! Hope you are getting some sleep 😩💖 LOTS OF LOVE TO YOU😚

[littlemisslol-fic]

44 (Puppy love) and 20 (Breaking the rules) for Varian and Hugo? I just want dumb boys doing dumb things together,,,, UggHhHH

Hey anon!! Thanks for the ask! I merged both of these into one story, but it’s basically a full fledged oneshot by now so oops. Have some modern-day-au-varigo!!

44 (Puppy love) and 20 (Breaking the rules)

“We’re going to get into so much trouble…” 

Hugo looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“What’s wrong, goggles?” The blond laughs, “Scared?”

Varian bristles at the taunt, scowling. He shifts awkwardly- his shoes scuff the dirt in a way that only accents how stressed out he feels. The forest around them sings with birdsong, the rustle of trees in the wind, and the gentle snip-snip of Hugo’s wire cutters. The moon shines down on them, full and bright, a hole punched in the middle of the sky surrounded with starry shrapnel. 

Varian’s hoodie- Hugo’s hoodie that he’d stolen, actually, not that he’d admit it- is soft and warm around him, the green fabric surrounding him like a hug. Hugo grins like an animal, and turns back to the fence in front of them. Varian watches with apprehension as Hugo snips away at it, chopping an ugly, but functional entrance.

“I’m not scared.” Varian finally mutters, shifting his weight again. The late August air is still warm, but starting to cool the closer they get to midnight. “I’m just… concerned.” 

“Sure, Var,” Hugo laughs, sticking out his tongue as he snips at the last of the fence. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Varian scowls again, flushing. The woods around them are dark, but Varian isn’t concerned about that- he grew up here in the small town of Old Corona, after all, he knew these woods like the back of his hand- no, what scares him is the idea of getting caught. 

“Seriously, Hugo, if we get caught my dad’s gunna-”

“Flip out?” Hugo blows a lock of blond hair out of his face as he snips at the last of the wire. “Yeah, I know. That’s why we’re not going to get caught.”

Varian grits his teeth. Hugo, content with snipping the final chunk of fence, stands back up and shoves the wire cutters in his backpack. With a rough kick- Varian cringes at the noise, blue eyes scanning the treeline frantically- Hugo’s perfectly cut square goes flying away from the fence, leaving a doorway chopped out of the wire.

“See, easy.” Hugo grins. Varian scoffs, but when the blond offers him a hand he takes it. Hugo leads him through the hole in the fence and Varian follows with a grumble; as much as he’s bitching he’s curious about what exactly his boyfriend is up to. Hugo was nothing if not spontaneous, showing up at Varian’s house at nearly eleven at night and dragging him through the woods towards one of the only dangerous places in Old Corona.

The old fairgrounds, while only recently abandoned, had been locked tight for two years. Varian can’t help but look around in awe, seeing the way that the rusting metal and cracked concrete are slowly being overtaken by nature once again. It’s dark, the kind of inky black you can’t see inside the city, the kind that makes the milky way above so vibrant and bright in comparison- like a river of stars snaking across the night sky.

Varian can’t help but stop, just looking up and into the sky. Hugo pauses, grinning and letting him stare. Varian doesn’t get out much- not with his usual obligations as the mayor’s son- and these are the kinds of things he missed while growing up… the kind of things that Hugo is nothing but glad to show him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Varian hears Hugo ask him. He nods, dumbstruck, but when he looks at his boyfriend- Hugo isn’t looking at the sky. He’s staring Varian dead in the eye. He feels his face grow hot- he must be a shocking colour of red by now- but Hugo doesn’t make mention of it. Instead he holds out an arm, an offering that Varian gladly takes. He worms his way into Hugo’s side, delighting as a strong arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him close. 

The old fairgrounds are the kind of quiet that sinks deep in your chest. Not that they’re silent- Varian can hear the chirping of crickets and the creaky whine of metal swings as they pass a swing ride- a large tower with a round disk at the top, nearly a hundred swings hanging from rusty chains. When the wind blows they swing along in soft, meandering arcs. Out here, nearly in the country, the quiet is something that seems sacred. The kind of silence reserved for graveyards and churches, shrines and memorials. It feels immoral to break it, so they don’t.

Hugo leads Varian up to a large roller coaster, the wooden frame still nearly perfect. Varian looks at it with apprehension, digging the heels of his hightops into the cracked concrete as Hugo begins to tug him forward.

“We’re not going up there.” Varian declares, “I don’t have a deathwish, and neither did you last time I checked.” 

“Relax goggles.” Hugo grins, “I was up there earlier this afternoon, checked it myself. It’s sturdy. We gotta hurry though, or we’re going to miss it!”

Hugo spins on his heel and hops the metal turnstile, not looking back. Varian scowls, following despite himself. Hugo knows him too well- knows that Varian would follow him to the ends of the earth if Hugo asked it of him. They draw close to the base of the coaster, shuffling up on top of a series of boxes left behind by previous explorers- or maybe Hugo himself that afternoon, apparently. Varian can’t help but scowl… what did his boyfriend even get up to while Varian wasn’t keeping track of him? Risking life and limb to climb unstable ruins, apparently. 

Hugo begins to scale the main hill of the coaster, the path easy as on the left side is a set of metal stairs for maintenance. Varian follows, his hand firmly planted on the railing as they climb higher. 

“Are you just leading me up there to murder me?” Varian calls, shuddering as the wind picks up a little as they reach about halfway up. The hill’s nearly five stories high, easily the tallest attraction in the abandoned park. Varian can almost see the tops of the trees from here. 

“Why would I take you all the way up here?” Hugo asks, turning around and smirking at him. “If I wanted you dead I would have killed you on ground level.” 

“I… that’s not assuring!” Varian gripes, “If anything that makes this worse!” 

Hugo, the bastard, laughs.

“You don’t like bullshit.” Hugo says, and Varian can’t help but melt. Hugo turns around and keeps climbing, his boots making little thunk-thunks on the aging metal. Varian scrambles up after him, breathing in the wind as they finally reach the top. Hugo had been telling the truth, it seems, as there’s already a small setup at the very peak of the arch.

Two small camp chairs, a blue cooler in between, all precariously balanced on a small flat space at the very top. Varian assumes it was once for maintenance, like the stairs; a cluster of blankets hanging from two long flagpoles attached to the safety rails make a little roof, and when Hugo hits a little battery back a series of string lights flick on in a rainbow glow. Hugo crawls down into the little fort, looking back and smiling. Not his usual smirk, but an honest-to-god smile.

Varian can’t help but fall a little more in love. 

He crawls in after Hugo, laughing as they get tangled up for a second. For a second they become a flailing cluster of arms and legs, giggling like children as they trip over each other. Varian gets an elbow to the gut and grunts- Hugo’s arms are suddenly wrapping around his waist. 

“Sorry, sorry,” The blond snickers, “Didn’t account for your stupid legs-”

“What, you just want me to leave them behind next time?” Varian groans, resting up against Hugo’s side with a sigh. Hugo’s warm and solid as Varian leans into him- settles under Hugo’s arm like he belongs there, sinks into the heat of the other’s body, curls into the embrace like he was made for it.

Hugo’s chin settles on his head, and Varian smiles softly to himself. 

With Hugo’s back propped up against the pole, they both face out over the forest. In the distance, Old Corona glows with street lamps and houses and cars. Above them, the stars shine just as brightly, if not moreso. Varian smells pine and something distinctly Hugo- breathes it in and lets it settle deep in his chest like a balm. 

Hugo’s arms tighten around his waist, the two of them looking out towards the distant light of home. Varian feels at peace, the gentle waves of tranquil silence and soft lights from their little makeshift tent soothing the ails of day.

And then, just as Varian’s getting used to the relaxation-

Pop-pop, pop pop pop-pop-pop-

Fireworks scatter across the sky in a rainbow of light and colour, vivid oranges and blues and purples glowing across the inky sky like a scattering of magic. Varian’s eyes go wide, watching with a childlike glee as they fizzle and spark. Hugo’s hold on him gets a little closer as Varian shifts, as if the blond’s scared he’s going to pull away-

“Did you know about this?” Varian asks him, turning in his arms. He can see the reflection of colour in the lenses of Hugo’s glasses- and in the warm look in those green eyes.

“Sure I did.” Hugo says, “I know a guy who knew a guy.” 

Varian snorts, refusing to look away. Hugo’s trying to play this off- of course he is- but Varian knows that he’d probably been planning this for a while. He feels his heart start to thump at the thought, that Hugo had set all this up, had thought of doing all of this for Varian-

He grabs Hugo by the strings of his hoodie and pulls him into a kiss. Hugo smiles into it, leaning into it and pulling Varian close. They kiss for what feels like hours and seconds, Varian can’t tell, before they break. They both breathe a little heavily, gasping for air a mere few inches from another kiss.

“I love you, goggles.” Hugo whispers, like a prayer.

“I love you too,” Varian murmurs, lost to the moment. 

When they meet again, Varian can’t help but smile.