#so we walked as far as we considered to be safe before we admitted defeat

[fidgetspringer]

Got dragged out on an improvised, 16km, 6 hour hike, aiming for a 1300m summit.

Until 40 minutes in mother nature said fuck you how about some thunder instead?

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXXII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: The final confrontation against Sukuna.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: man idek at this point…call it sibling bonding or wtvr

“You’re sure you have to do this?” you said, holding onto the end of Gojo’s shirt and walking alongside him, following him to the door. He had already said farewell to the others; you were the only one left, the only one who refused to let go. It was typically like that, though — you were closer to him than the others were by virtue of knowing him throughout your childhood, even before coming to the school.

“The only other option is to allow Sukuna to keep Megumi,” Gojo said. “And to terrorize society at his leisure. We both know that that’s not something we can live with. I do have to do this, whether or not you want me to.”

“Speaking of which, do you think Megumi can still be saved?” you said. “Or is it too late? Must we let go of him already?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I will…I will try my best to bring him back, but in the process of defeating Sukuna, I might have to harm him a bit, so I can’t guarantee it. It’s an impossible position we’re in, since Sukuna and Megumi are one and the same, but we want to save one as much as we want to kill the other.”

“That’s what I’m here for, though,” you said grimly. “You can beat him up as much as you need to. I’ll heal him up and he’ll be back to his normal self with no issues. By this time next week, he’ll be sighing all passive-aggressively all over the place, and it’ll be like he never left.”

“It makes me feel better to know that’s the case,” he said. “Relying on you leaves less of a bitter taste in my mouth than relying on others. And while we’re on the subject, you have what I gave you yesterday, right?”

“Yes, of course, but like you said, I don’t think they’ll come in much handy for me anymore,” you said. He shrugged.

“You never know. Maybe you’ll decide you want them, for some reason,” he said. “Just keep them safe. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how precious they are.”

“I already promised I would! Besides, even if they weren’t like that, I would’ve taken care of them all the same. Anything from you is precious to me,” you said. He mimed gagging.

“That was horribly cheesy, by the way,” he said, ruffling your hair as he often did when his hands were free and his mind was busy but he wanted to show his affection for you in some way. “But I appreciate the sentiment, I guess.”

“I know you feel the same, you dumb egret, so there’s no need for the tough act,” you said.

“Egret? Calling me that is a little far out of the realm of plausibility,” he said. “I don’t look anything like one.”

“Hm, I don’t know. I think it’s perfectly apt as a description,” you said. He considered this before shrugging.

“We can discuss the semantics later. For now, come here,” he said, opening his arms. You embraced him in the way you always did, and it felt the way it always did, too, warm and comfortable and solid despite how cold his extremities were and how lean his body was.

“You never used to hug me so much,” you said, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong or happening, that this was just an ordinary farewell, as if you were only going back home for the weekend or something. “This is a recent development. What gives?”

“Blame it on old age,” he said.

“You aren’t even thirty yet,” you said. “That’s hardly considered ‘old age’ in any sense of the concept.”

“It’s older than you are,” he shot back. “But fine. For luck, then?”

“For luck,” you agreed. “I’ll see you later, Gojo.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, and then you were alone in the doorway, gazing at the empty space where he had once been and wishing for only the briefest moment that he was not so selfless, that he had instead chosen to abandon the world and everyone to stay with you and be your teacher forever.

Everyone was waiting for you back in the room where Mei Mei had connected her crow vision technique to a bunch of TVs, letting you all watch the confrontation between Gojo and Sukuna in real-time and adjust your responses accordingly. After all, there were so many variables at play that without that, it would be impossible for anyone to know what to do next. It was the whole reason that Gojo had called her in the first place — well, that, and because of her little brother Ui Ui, who was on the whole even more useful than she was.

You made a beeline for the couch where Yuta and Maki were, settling in between them, surprising just about no one. Wrapping your arms around Yuta’s bicep, you lay your cheek against it, knocking your knees against his as you sat, for he would serve as your support now more than ever.

“He’s gone,” you said when it became obvious everyone was waiting for you to speak. “Left for Shinjuku. They should get started soon.”

“I wish he would’ve let us come help him,��� Hakari said. “Don’t interrupt me, Y/N! I know that he works better alone, so we would actually drag him down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”

“Actually, I was just going to say that it’s a pleasant surprise to see you concerned about someone other than yourself,” you said. “I’m really proud, Hakari. It seems like you’ve grown a lot in the past month.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. You rolled your eyes but found you were too stressed to actually engage in any meaningful arguments with him. Anyways, it was as you always said: arguing with Hakari only made a person dumber, and now was not the time for that sort of thing.

“There he is,” Maki said, pointing at the screens where Gojo could now be seen, as cocky as ever, made more arrogant by the way he was towering over Sukuna, who was after all in the body of a first year student.

“Wow,” Hakari said. “Fushiguro is such a little shrimp! That boy needs a growth spurt immediately.”

Wordlessly, Yuta handed you a pillow, already knowing what you wanted to do. Accepting it gratefully, you chucked it at Hakari, smiling slightly when it smacked into his stomach, prompting a groan from him but then a blissful silence afterwards. Kirara did briefly glare at you, the closest thing to retaliation you got, but since you didn’t care much about that, it was a positive outcome overall.

“He’s not that short,” Itadori defended, though considering he was shorter than Megumi, there was definitely some bias coloring his words. “Besides, anyone would look tiny next to Gojo, except for maybe Todo.”

“That’s true,” Hakari allowed. “Yeah, I’ll apologize to Fushiguro next time we meet. Plus, all of us are like that in our first years. The rest of his family members that I’ve seen are pretty tall, so I’m sure he’ll be like that once he grows up.”

After that, you all mostly were silent, only occasionally remarking on events as they happened. Sukuna and Gojo moved at a pace almost too fast to comprehend, and it seemed their minds worked at that kind of speed, as well. The things they were doing were unfathomable to sorcerers like the rest of you, every new move drawing gasps from everyone watching, mostly due to the sheer gall they required and the way they were completely redefining sorcery as you knew it. There was no doubt in any of your minds: this was truly a clash of the two strongest sorcerers in all of history, and despite Gojo’s confidence, there was no certain victor. It could happen in any way. The scales could tip in either’s favor at any moment, and it was likely that you wouldn’t even realize until the balance was so unequal that nothing could be done to restore it.

“So that’s Mahoraga,” Kusakabe said at one point. It had definitely come as a surprise that the generally self-interested teacher had decided to stay and fight alongside the others instead of running like Noritoshi and Elakshi had, but for some reason, even though he wasn’t particularly strong, his presence comforted you. Like Ieri and Gojo, he had once been an authority figure in your life, someone who could be counted upon to know the answers to your questions, so now that the scenario was so confusing, having him there made it feel like there was a chance that order could at some point be restored. Furthermore, due to his expertise and experience as a teacher, he was able to explain what was happening to everyone in a way that you could understand, which was invaluable.

According to Kusakabe, Mahoraga was the pinnacle of the Ten Shadows technique that was engraved on Megumi’s body. It was a massive, hulking being that was an amalgamation between man and snake, with its body vaguely humanoid but its head distinctly serpentine. It was inescapably eerie and uncanny, and you shuddered, pressing even closer to Yuta at the sight of it. He did not react, eyes trained on the screens, tracking every slight movement that Gojo and Sukuna made even before they made them.

“He can do it, can’t he?” Itadori said, voice small. “He can defeat Sukuna before Mahoraga adapts, right?”

Nobody responded, because of course none of you knew what the outcome would be. In such a close match, even a breath taken at the wrong time could be fatal for either party, so there was no way of knowing who would come out on top. Especially now that Mahoraga had been added into the mix, with his potential to cut through even the Limitless via adaptation…who could be sure? Who could still say with full confidence that Gojo would win, besides Gojo himself? Because you knew he would, could hear his haughty voice in your mind even now: I will win.

“Has he forgotten about Fushiguro?” Hana said. She was right: you had never seen Megumi’s body in a worse condition, but Gojo seemed to pay it no mind, adding to the cuts and bruises blooming on the boy’s fair skin at will, even taunting him as he went along, though naturally it was not Megumi he was insulting but Sukuna himself, Sukuna and his reliance on Megumi’s technique and the shikigami he could summon. What kind of King of Curses can’t even go against his enemy without the help of a little boy? Come on, give me a break!

“It’s fine,” Kashimo said. “I hope he has — it’s more interesting that way. He should’ve forgotten him from the start!”

“No way!” Itadori said. “You don’t even know him, so you can just be quiet, okay? Seriously! Who even invited you here?”

“Of course, he’s doing his best to save Megumi, but he can’t afford to hold back, not when Sukuna won’t do the same,” you said as Kashimo shrugged, obviously unbothered by Itadori’s words. “We’ll lose both of them if he does that. At this point, he has to rely on instinct, so he can’t give any consideration to Megumi anymore, not until it’s safe enough. Faltering is as good as surrendering, so he just can’t.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Itadori said. “It makes sense, but it feels unfair. Fushiguro didn’t do anything! He doesn’t deserve this. It should be my body out there. It would be alright if I was the one that Gojo had to kill, but why him?”

“Have a little more trust in Gojo,” Yuta said evenly. “He always has a plan. It’ll be alright. Megumi’s important to him, so he wouldn’t leave things up to fate or chance. If he didn’t think that he could save him, then he would’ve said something; conversely, since he’s said he’ll do his best, he honestly will. You know he’s like that.”

As the only remaining special grade sorcerer — alongside Gojo, of course — Yuta’s words carried a certain weight to them, and indeed as soon as he spoke, there was a collective release of the tension gathered in the room. He was as right as always; Gojo wouldn’t just charge into things blindly. He was much too calculated to just disregard something so important in the heat of the moment like that, and especially not when Megumi’s life was up in the air. Megumi, who was probably the only other person he cared for as much as he did you. You were worrying because you could only see the results of the clash, not the thought process behind every move, but when had any of you ever truly been able to follow Gojo’s thought process in the first place?

At one point, when it looked like Gojo might lose, Yuta stood up. Takaba, a comedian-turned-sorcerer that had come with Itadori and allied himself with everyone else for some reason, did the same, and both of them headed towards the door. Nobody else took notice, completely fascinated by the unlikely comeback Gojo was in the process of making, but because you had been all but laying atop Yuta, you were immediately alerted to his departure.

“Where are you going?” you said, following after him, a suspicion growing in you that he was leaving to join the fight against Sukuna. Takaba glanced between the two of you before gulping and then waving, mouthing something at Yuta and then ducking out. You cocked your head at him before deciding that he was a comedian and therefore must be prone to doing such strange things.

“It’s something that I discussed with Gojo,” Yuta said. “Just last night. While everyone is focused on him and Sukuna, I’m going to take on Kenjaku. It’s the perfect moment to strike; no one will see it coming, especially not Kenjaku himself. Everyone thinks I’m the next in line if Gojo should fall, but in truth, I’ll be there, ready to kill that blight.”

“By yourself?” you said, numbness washing over you as your mind worked through what he was saying. He was going to go fight Kenjaku. It was even worse than going to help Gojo against Sukuna, because at least then, he’d have aid. But this — this was an endeavor he was undertaking all alone. He was going somewhere where no one could help him. Not Gojo. Not Maki. Not you. Nobody would be there for him.

“Takaba is going to be with me, so I won’t be alone,” he said, though this didn’t reassure you much. Takaba, a comparatively untrained sorcerer, would likely just serve as a distraction to cloak Yuta’s arrival, so the onus was still on Yuta’s shoulders. He was the one who would have to actually do it, which meant that he essentially was going against Kenjaku on his own.

“You can’t,” you said. “Yuta, you can’t. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, who was a special grade sorcerer! Listen to me this time and leave it. Don’t go. Let someone else take care of it.”

“Who but me could go?” he said. “It’s just as you said. He beat Yuki Tsukumo, which means no one else even stands a chance. I’m the only one left who can capitalize on this moment, the only remaining special grade sorcerer — bar the obviously preoccupied Gojo — and I cannot let this opportunity go. Kenjaku is as big of a thorn in our sides as Sukuna is, and we mustn’t let him live. He’s the reason all of this has happened, Y/N. Do you think I could just sit here and wait while he continues to exist?”

“Hakari can go,” you said desperately. “Or Itadori, or Choso. Anyone else can, but just not you. I don’t want it to be you. I can’t handle it if it’s you.”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Takaba and I have a plan, just like Gojo does. Even when things seem like they’re going badly, please remember this: we know what we’re doing. It may look like we’re struggling, but don’t just believe what you see. We have it all figured out.”

He was putting on a brave face for you. He didn’t have things ‘figured out’ any more than Gojo did; both of them were going into things blindly, facing off against opponents shrouded in mystery and unpredictability — they were mere men, battling preternatural, ancient monsters that had never tasted defeat. But for you, Yuta was pretending to have courage. You wondered where that frightened, deer-eyed boy you had met hiding under a desk in that high school had gone? The one who had ducked behind you at every loud noise? When had it become that he was the valiant one and you were the coward?

You couldn’t send him to his own death like this, but you also knew you could not stop him. He would go. You would stay. That was what your fates would be. His place was the battlefield, as yours was the hospital ward. That was why you could not beg him any longer — for you to ask him not to fight was like him asking you not to heal. It was what he was born to do, which meant that even if his subjugation was all but assured, he would still raise his sword, would still hold it with the very pride that a victor would, so that he might die in the same way he lived: as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“What will I do?” you said. “When you are gone, what will I do?”

“Wait for me,” he said. “Until I come back, you will wait for me. That’s what you’ll do.”

Unlike him, you couldn’t be considered strong, not anymore. You couldn’t maintain your composure, so it was with a choked cry that you flew at him, holding onto him as securely as you could, trying to memorize what he felt like, what it meant to embrace him, the way his body fit against yours, the way his heart beat against your chest, the exact smell of the soap he used to shower and wash his clothes.

“How am I supposed to do that?” you said. “How am I supposed to wait for you all alone?”

“You can do it,” he said. “You’re the girl I — you’re my Y/N. You can do it.”

“Please say it, Yuta,” you said. “Before you go, please tell me that you love me.”

Those words which he had never spoken, could never speak into existence. If he was going to challenge Kenjaku, then you wanted to hear them. If he might never come back again, then you wanted him to say them aloud. If there was no more hope for you two, then what did it matter if he cursed you with his love? You would accept such a curse gladly, if that was the only bargain.

“Y/N,” he said, and you knew before he said it what his answer would be.

“Just one time,” you pleaded. “You never have to again, but just once, please tell me.”

He was silent, only clinging to you tighter, too reluctant to let go immediately. But even when he tried to pull away, you refused to let him, knowing that once he left, he likely would not come back. Your dearest Yuta, your most beloved Yuta, your kind, gentle boy…how could he stand against a sorcerer like Kenjaku and win? Why was this pointless death the most he’d ever amount to? What kind of a person was he, that it didn’t even mean anything to him, that he marched forwards in spite of it?

Well, maybe it was because of this: he had, since his youth, been followed by that very death. Rika, the Queen of Curses, her darkness had been wrapped around him since the day she had become a vengeful spirit, and so death was the one thing which had never frightened him, not when the two were so intimately acquainted that it was as if they were old friends.

Maki did not question the fact that you were alone, that Yuta had vanished, that you were obviously weeping as you sat next to her. The others gave you looks containing various degrees of sympathy, but they, too, did not say anything. You were not their main concern at the moment, and neither was Yuta. It was Gojo who you were all thinking about, all focused on, because for the first time in the fight, he had the upper hand. For the first time, one thing was obvious: he was going to win. The scales had been disbalanced in his favor. He had exorcised Mahoraga and whatever other shikigami Sukuna had summoned, so it was down to the two of them, and while Gojo was hale, Sukuna was obviously tired. It wasn’t up in the air anymore — he was really going to do it.

Her reflexes were faster. She detected patterns quicker. She was just more skeptical than the rest of you. You weren’t sure which was truly the explanation, but it remained that Maki saw it happen before anyone else did. Sukuna smirked, if a mere twitch of his lips could be considered as such, and then Maki’s hand was slapping over your eyes and the world was dark and then someone was shouting. Itadori. It was Itadori, but why was he shouting? Hadn’t Gojo won? What reason did he have, then, to shout like that?

“Don’t open your eyes,” Maki instructed you. “Y/N, whatever you do, don’t open them.”

She knew better than you. You should’ve listened, but you did not. As soon as she removed her hand, you blinked your eyes open, trying to regain your bearings, and then you looked at the screen. After that, it was you screaming, not Itadori, trying to shut your eyes and pretend like you hadn’t seen it, pretend like it had just been a bad dream or intrusive thought or something. But even in your worst nightmares, your mind had never conjured up an image like that, which meant that you must’ve seen it, that it must’ve been real. It was real. It was real. It was real.

The scene was burnt into your mind: Gojo, his body cleaved into two, his upper half bloody on the ground but his legs still upright, so fast had it all been. As you had watched, they had collapsed beside his severed torso, and the sight was so gory that you would’ve retched if you had eaten anything earlier. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

But you were the girl who had brought someone back to life. This was not like Tullia, who had been beyond the point of saving once Sukuna got to her. You had to snap out of it; there was still a chance, after all. If you could get a hold of yourself, then there was still a chance. Reaching out, you grabbed Maki’s hand, squeezing it, clutching the only thing you surely had left in this world. She squeezed back.

“Someone, bring me his body,” you said, your voice shaky but determined. “As soon as possible. I can bring him back.”

“Hold on,” Hakari said, surprisingly softly given his usually brash attitude. “He’s cut in half, Y/N. You can’t possibly believe you can heal that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can do it. This is why I gave up fighting: so that I can heal. I’ve done it before, so I will do it again. I will bring Gojo back to life.”

Thanks to Mei Mei’s little brother’s teleportation technique, Kirara was able to quickly retrieve Gojo’s body, setting the two halves on a gurney in front of you and then stepping back so that you could get to work, arranging the pieces so that they fit together once more. Sukuna’s technique was so perfect and precise that it appeared as if they had never been split in the first place, no overlaps or gaps between the jagged edges of his flesh.

He looked like he was sleeping. If your hands weren’t sticky with his blood, if you didn’t know that he would never be this still even when asleep, then you would’ve really believed that he was just resting. But your fingers were red and Gojo was incapable of serenity, so taking a deep breath, you reached far within yourself, drawing upon every single hurt you had ever felt, every injury inflicted upon you, every harsh word and lost friend. You reached for all of it and prayed it would be enough.

“Composition,” you said, waiting for the debilitating pain to hit you, the pain of death unto life, the pain you would gladly accept if it meant saving Gojo. But there was nothing. “Composition.” Nothing. “Composition.”

Nothing. There was nothing.

“Composition.”

Nothing.

Why was his heart not beating? Why was it not working? Why could you not save him? Why couldn’t you bring him back? You were capable of it. Why weren’t his skin and bones knitting together? Why did his organs not heave back into function?

“Gojo,” you said. “Gojo. Wake up now. It’s not funny anymore. Composition.”

You weren’t healing anything, but blood was pouring from your nose, your body protesting the constant activation and subsequent cancellation of your Reverse Cursed Technique. The droplets mixed with your tears, but you ignored both, because to acknowledge them meant acknowledging something else.

“Hey,” Maki said, tugging on your hand. “Come on.”

“No,” you said. “No. No. Composition.”

You were sobbing as you continued to initiate the Reverse Cursed Technique, uncaring of the fact that everyone was watching you, uncaring of the fact that your failure was on display for them all to see, uncaring of the fact that you were acting like a small child. Composition. Composition. Composition. That was the only thing on your mind.

“It’s time to give up,” Maki said. “Y/N. You can stop now. He’s really gone. Even you can’t bring him back.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was wail, grasping onto his shirt, his shoulders, whatever you could reach as Maki tried to pull you away, gagging as you bawled, the acrid smell of blood and sweat coating your nostrils and tongue as you threw yourself over his corpse. Your nature was like that, you realized. It was the same reason you had followed him to the door: you were not a girl who knew what it meant to let go.

“Why?” you gasped out as Maki physically lifted you and dragged you off of him, his sleeves tearing off as she yanked you away without care for how obstinately you were holding onto the scraps of him you could reach. “Why? I love him, too, so why can’t I bring him back? Let me go, Maki! I can still save him!”

“Y/N.” It was Ieri who was speaking now, her soft voice as sorrowful as it was severe. “You can’t. Some people are beyond saving.”

You had chosen to heal so that you could save people, but in the end, you had saved no one. Yuta was off fighting against Kenjaku, and who knew if he would survive that? Gojo was dead. Megumi was gone. You had never done anything that mattered. In the end, Composition, just like the L/Ns, had failed you. Some people are beyond saving. But that wasn’t supposed to matter to you. You were supposed to be able to save them, anyways.

“Ui Ui,” you said, the instant Maki put you down and you were standing on your own two feet, though she conspicuously did not remove her hands from your shoulders. Your grief had condensed into a hollow pit in your stomach, one that you shoved aside for the moment, knowing you could not think about it now. Feeling around in your pocket for Gojo’s final gift to you, you straightened your shoulders and felt a sort of calm wash over you when you found it, fingers curling around the cool wood. “I need you to take me to Sukuna.”

“What do you think?” Gojo said, presenting you with a small box containing a set of red needles. You hesitantly accepted them, wondering what use he thought you would have for them. “I harassed the L/Ns into imbuing them with Dissection as they were forged — that’s why they’re red like that — and then, I personally cursed them. Not just in that half-assed way I used to curse your old ones, either. Nope, these needles have more energy than even most Grade 1 sorcerers do! If the higher ups were still around, they would probably dub them special grade cursed tools, though they’re largely impractical to utilize for anyone but you.”

“I won’t ever use them,” you said. “So you shouldn’t have gone to all of that trouble. But thank you for doing that, and for entrusting them to me, anyways.”

“Who knows?” he said. “It just makes me feel better to know you have them. That way, you’ll never be defenseless. There’ll be this small piece of me that’ll always be with you, protecting you even when my entire self can’t be there to do it.”

“You didn’t train with everyone else,” Kusakabe said. “It’s too dangerous. You absolutely cannot go. Anyways, didn’t you give up combat?”

“I thought that healing was how I could save people,” you said. “But it turns out that I can’t save anyone, regardless of what I choose. So I will do what I set out to in the start. I will fight.”

“I’ll go with her,” Maki said, nodding at you firmly. You had thought for a second that she might try to convince you to stay back, but you really shouldn’t have. She wasn’t like Yuta and Gojo, who always tried to protect you. She was the one who had first taught you to fight, after all, the one who taught you what the definition of strength itself was. She would never try to stop you, not for as long as you allowed her to stay by your side — and you would never, ever deny her that, because you could not deny yourself her presence, because there was a time when she had been the only one you could call distinctly and wholly your own.

Shinjuku was nothing more than a mess of rubble and rocks strewn about at this point. Sukuna had shifted into his true form, and if you had had the time, then thinking about what that meant for Megumi would have driven you to tears anew. Yet it was like this: you could no longer think about Megumi. Not now, when he was beyond saving. Not now, when Gojo was dead. Not now, when you and Maki were about to make your own stand against the creature which had stolen so much from everyone you both loved.

“What now?” Maki said. “Do you have a plan?”

“Sort of. You have to stay back,” you said. “I’m pretty sure he still won’t do anything to me, but he doesn’t have the same misgivings about killing you, so only come if it seems like I really am about to die.”

“What if I’m not fast enough?” she said.

“You will be,” you said. “There’s not a soul alive that’s faster than you, but anyways, it won’t come to that, so don’t engage him in battle until I’ve made my move and sufficiently weakened him. Once I’ve done that, you can come help me.”

Sukuna noticed you almost immediately, and then he was batting away Itadori and the others, his entire inhuman body’s hatred concentrated solely on you, as it always was, as it always would be. You thought in the back of your mind that you should’ve felt afraid at that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything but resigned. This was an inevitable eventuality. Perhaps you had delayed it by choosing to heal, but in the end, there was no surprise that it was you two. The King of Curses. The girl named after the woman who sealed him. In truth, the ending of this story had been written a long time ago.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, his tone the same as always, seething and loveless and loathing. Maybe this was how your name should always be said. Y/N L/N, the horrible girl who fought when she should’ve healed and healed when she should’ve fought, the one who could not help a single person she cared about. Maybe Sukuna had it right after all.

“Sukuna,” you said. “You killed Gojo.”

He laughed. “Yes, I did.”

“And Tullia,” you added.

“Correct,” he said.

“And — and Megumi,” you said, half-hoping he would refute this. But he dashed your hopes as soon as they blossomed, humming in agreement.

“Indeed, that is the case,” he said. “All of those people are gone. You loved each and every one of them, and now they are all dead at my hand. I killed them, and it brought me the greatest pleasure and most immense joy to do so.”

“Why?” you said. “Why am I still alive when they’re not? Why do you torture me like this? What have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You have never done anything. But I need you for my own purposes, and I despise you for that reason. I despise you because you, insignificant and irritating as you are, are so important to me.”

“How?” you said. “I don’t understand it. What can I even do for you? I’m not Megumi. I don’t have a technique that will allow you to defeat some great foe, and you don’t need a body from me anymore, not now that you have regained your true form. So why do you want me?”

“You don’t have to understand,” he said. “My reasons are mine alone. I don’t owe an explanation to a bitch of a girl who’s closer to being vermin than anything.

He would never tell you, you realized. You would never get to know what he desired from you, because in his eyes, you would never be his equal. Not like Gojo was. You weren’t powerful like the others, either, so you couldn’t demand he speak; thus, you had to make peace with the uncertainty and continue onwards. Because even though there wasn’t much you could do at this point, not anymore, you no longer despaired. You just used the only thing you had left, something which had been there for you from the start and was now there for you in the end.

It was the same as the first time, all of the way back on that balcony during the party which Gojo had rescued you from. Then, just as now, an inappropriate giddiness had filled you as you finally did what your blood had always sang for. For the last time, you made that figurative leap, knowing that you would invariably crash but cherishing the instant of free-fall that came before the impact, the one which you always had longed for so greatly in your youth.

“Dissection,” you said, the word falling from your lips so easily, so familiarly, hanging in the air for a moment as you activated your cursed technique for the first time since Shibuya.

Sukuna cackled at you. “Foolish girl! Do you really think that that’s enough to face me, when even the infamous Limitless technique of the Gojo clan was not? Use your ridiculous, pointless technique all you want, for it’ll do you no good. After all, how does it matter that you can see my weaknesses when I have none?”

He wasn’t incorrect, in one sense. There were no spots illuminated by Dissection on his body. He truly seemed to be invulnerable, but you knew better. You saw what he could not, because Dissection was your technique. You didn’t have to be the strongest to win this fight. You just had to be strong enough to do what you had to.

“You’re wrong,” you said.

“You presume to say that?” he said. “You are the one who’s wrong, Y/N L/N. There’s not a point on my body that you could strike to kill me.”

“You’re right,” you said, raising one of Gojo’s needles, admiring the peculiar crimson shade of the metal as the setting sun hit them. Sukuna’s eyes widened as he figured out that you had caught on, that you had finally perceived why he would not, could not kill you, and then he was crying out in alarm, extending his four arms towards you, but it was all in vain. He would not reach you in time. No one ever could. “There’s not. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have any faults. Actually, you do have one, and this time, unlike every other, that’s enough.”

“Stop!” he shouted, activating his technique, though he was much too late to do anything but watch you with the horror of a person who was finally, after a thousand years, staring defeat in the face.

“You have taken everything from me,” you said. “So in exchange, I’ll do the same. I will no longer live for you, Sukuna.”

And with that, you drove the needle into the soft white glow centered over his singular weakness: your own heart.

[rrain-writes]

Oh Raven (Sing Me a Happy Song)

< Chapter 9 | Chapter 11 >

Chapter 10:

Wind stared into the glowing flames of the fire.

“Everything alright?” Someone asked. He looked up and was met with Sky’s concerned expression. Wind sighed.

“Tasseren said the champions all… died. And apparently we’re a hundred years in the future! So does that mean…” 

Wind looked down at his lap. “Does that mean Raven is gone?”

Sky sat next to the younger hero. “I- I don’t know.” He admitted. “But, more than likely, yes.”

“Then what was the point in meeting him in the first place?” Wind spat. “If now we have to live knowing we couldn’t save him?”

The Skyloftian placed a gentle hand on Wind’s back. “The Goddess has a reason for everything. I’m not saying I always know what it is, but we must have faith. Believe.”

Wind shrugged his hand off. “I’ve believed in a lot of things.”

Sky didn’t want to think about what that meant. It sounded so final. Too old words to come from a young boy’s mouth.

A traveller, who had been sitting across from the fire, looking slightly uncomfortable and confused, spoke up timidly. 

“I heard you talking to Tasseren earlier.” She said to Wind, gently. “’bout the champions story. Wanna hear what I learnt as a kid?”

Sky mouthed a silent ‘thankyou’ and the woman for trying to cheer Wind up. The boy in question considered the offer, and then nodded.

“Well,” She started. “My mama used to tell me there wasn’t just four Champions…”

-

The stories tell of a hero. One who held a legendary sword, and bore the mark of the goddess upon his hand. No one really knows who he was. Some say he was a knight, or a sailor, or just a simple farmer. But they all agree that he was the goddess’ courage, sent to defeat evil should it ever threaten their world.

The hero would fight the evil with all his might, his heart, his soul. And at his side? They call her the goddess’ wisdom. A beautiful girl, with a crown of gold and descended from Hylia herself. With her power and his strength, they would fight through the day and night to save their people.

Once the job was done, and Hyrule was safe, the hero and the princess would disappear into the light, until they were called on again.

When the Calamity woke, the people of Hyrule called. They begged, and prayed, and cried. The Goddess didn’t seem to answer. That is, until a golden light shone through the knight, Hryule castle at its heart.

Some say it was the hero and the princess, and that they’re still fighting, a century on.

-

Link frowned. The divine feeling was close. It was getting late though.

He headed towards the stable up ahead, welcoming the thought of a warm bed for the night. Maybe he’d make dinner for the people at the stable, because they had always liked that. Should he make meat skewers? Or maybe a seafood fry…

Loud voices interrupted his thoughts. There must be a lot of travellers at the stable today. After the Calamity had been vanquished, people began to leave the safety of their villages a lot more, and journey out into the world.

He wondered if he knew them, or if they could possibly be from some far reaches of Hyrule he hadn’t been to yet. It was possible. But… odd.

Humming as he walked along, Link finally reached the stable as the moon was starting its climb into the sky.

There was a crowd of people loitering around, and from the looks of it, well-armed.

They payed him no attention as he moved to the desk inside, hood pulled up. Apparently before the Calamity having scars where they lived meant people were afraid. Afraid to come near, afraid to attack, afraid to provoke in fear of what someone might do to you.

He didn’t like that very much.

He knew from some -ahem- unfortunate incidents, that when people were scared, they attacked. They ran, and cowered, and begged. So wearing his hood up made him feel more comfortable. It was safer that way.

“Link!” Tasseren greeted. “I’m afraid we’re full up at the moment.”

“Yeah, I noticed you have a lot of company.”

The stable owner frowned. “Bit of a suspicious group, that one. But they aren’t yiga.”

Huh.

“I can check them out, if you’d like.” He offered.

Tasseren smiled gratefully. “Thanks, boy. Tell you what, I think we’ve got some pillows and blankets in the back. Free of charge.”

Link handed over a couple rupees despite the stable masters words, Tasseren chuckling when he insisted. Link decided he didn’t care about the rules and traditions of Before. This place seemed a lot nicer anyway.

-

Twilight was the first person to notice the newcomer to the stable. Something to do with his keen senses. The person was short and seemed young, though Twilight knew that wasn’t always the case. (He was friends with Four. He had learnt.)

They seemed to be watching the group out of the corner of their eye, though they tried to be discreet. The chain was being very loud though, so he couldn’t blame the traveller. The rancher was about to look away, not wanting to stare, (That’s bad manners, Link. He would be told as a child. Don’t stare at people if you don’t want them to stare at you.), when their eye’s met.

Twilight sucked in a breath. No. It couldn’t be…

A familiar pair of cerulean eyes stared back at him.

[backandimbamon]

Bonnie playing with Damon's hair and he all sleepy 😊

this really took a while because… i was going to stop at the first half but i wanted to consider Bonnie’s perspective (: and then it got a lil spicy and i was like *sigh* why must you always take it there? but i mean- 👁- i always take it there because we were robbed!!! Damon is practically a self proclaimed sex god and i hate how they separated Bonnie from her sexuality, or really any form of intimacy for sooo long. and the scraps we got were NEVER enough. okay anyways yeah i’m finally done, like let’s get into it.

Damon notices that Bonnie touches him sparingly and really not because she wants to but because it happens accidentally every now and then, one of the perks about frequently invading her space.

Being stuck on the other side, there is less room for her and more for him, she’s in his world now which means it’s his duty to make her feel as uncomfortably comfortable as possible.

He notices everything; how her cheeks turn red when their knuckles brush against one another’s, how she takes in an exasperated little breath when their shoulders touch, how she rolls her eyes when he stands entirely too close. Damon hangs on to these moments because this may be his only form of female contact he’ll receive for a very, very, long time.

That is the only reason he hangs on.

Anytime she touches him intentionally, he feels a pride swell deep in his chest that he’s liked by Bonnie after a rocky road of ups and downs, fussing and fighting, he is finally deemed worthy enough for her to care about him even if it’s brief, even if it’s the smallest skin to skin contact imaginable.

And yes, he cares because if he has to spend the rest of eternity with one person, they might as well get along.

Movie night comes around so he rests his head in her lap, testing the waters, to see how she will respond to him. He senses her tense up a bit as predicted, but then she relaxes into it breath by breath like she’s doing a tricky yoga pose.

Bonnie’s body lotion makes her skin smell edible- cocoa and honey- she’ll never know but that’s why he nicknames her Bon Bon, she always smells good enough to eat. At this point, Damon can’t recall the VHS movie on the block of a television, his focus has been robbed by Bonnie and this new form of contact she allows him to try. Half of his smile sinks into the cotton of her leggings.

Her eyes never leave the screen when she laces her fingers through his hair, nails surfing through tufts of raven-black and the gesture is so shocking and embarrassingly arousing that a strangled groan gets trapped in his throat.

She panics, and he can tell by the change in her heart rate before saying. “Did I hurt you?” He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Hmmm mm, feels good,” he mumbles feigning casual so she can’t realize how he needs this so so bad that he’s fearful of it being taken away. In his mind he thinks about what if.

What if she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to tap dance on the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for two best friends. What if she remembers that he’s actually a terrible person who has done horrendous things to her and everyone she’s ever loved.

She shouldn’t like him or try not to laugh at his jokes. Not at all. Bonnie should’ve killed him a long, long time ago because if anyone could do it, it’d be her. He can see her now, all badass and angry with a wooden stake in her hand, vengeance in her eyes, the very last thing he’d see before his lights went out forever.

Bonnie, the giver and the taker.

Bonnie, the only god he knew.

Damon finds himself thinking so intensely lately that he checks the mirror more often than not to make sure he has no brooding lines like his little brother. Stefan’s expansive forehead has the room for it, his perfectly shaped forehead does not.

She laces her fingers back through his hair again and his eyes flutter, that’s how good it feels. It’s sensational. And while he’s had his hair pulled in and out of the bedroom, the innocence of her touch makes him want to melt. He finds his lids growing heavier, like how they used to do a century-and-a-half ago when he was human.

Running through dandelion fields in the overbearing Virginia heat, the sun up above sending heavy gusts of sunshine beams, a moment he considers to be oppressive now, used to be magical then- miraculous -and despite sweating through his britches and overcoat he never cared enough to stop running through the fields. The sun was the greatest thing all those years ago, back when white was his favorite color.

And after drawing a long, hot bath, he’d sink deep into the water while the bubbles floated to the top. Damon would close his eyes, hold his breath, see if he could break his prior record. Then he’d get out and the sleep would welcome him like any drowsy being, with open arms. And there he’d fall.

Bonnie has that affect on him. She makes him think of home, his past, when times were simpler and he was human.

He feels that exhausted sometimes, a boy who’s never stopped running through dandelion fields, whether it snows or rains or burns him alive. Her fingernails rake through his scalp- orange leaves on browning grass. Ruining Stefan’s piles for the fun of it. His lids droop. Tired of being consumed by himself, by Bonnie, he admits defeat this time. When he finally drifts off, he remembers that the Virginia heat gave him this same warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

“You really don’t know how good this feels,” his final words are hoarse before he drifts off but the last thing he sees is Bonnie.

The giver and the taker, the only god he knows.

.

Bonnie refuses to relish in the magic of the moment, the fact that it’s so rare Damon ever completely lets his guard down around her. She can always feel his eyes on her, constantly watching because Damon has a presence that’s inescapable.

Being so close to him when he’s extremely vulnerable makes her realize that in all facets, he’s stunning. A stunning that’s almost suffocating but with the dynamic they possess, he only needs to know that he’s not that much of an eye sore.

Now, she stares with wide eyes while she can, memorizes the smooth expanse of skin, every strand of dark hair. Relishes in the feel of his arms around her waist, the weight of his head in her lap. It’s been a long time since she’s felt a body besides her own and as much as she likes to ignore the fact, she has needs, needs that have swelled from being in the presence of Damon for too long.

He’s sexy without any effort, she examines. His dark t-shirt has risen and his pants are low enough that she observes the waistline of (silk?) boxers, taut muscle, navel, happy trail, yeah. Bonnie drinks him in like a cool glass of milk before bedtime- never has this much pretty been in her lap before. Her hands find their way in his head again, tousles through and he nuzzles up against her in his sleep. It’s difficult to pull her eyes away from him, but when she does, the credits are rolling on the screen.

This is Damon she’s thinking about like this, her best friend and also her first best friend’s boyfriend. She repeats it again, not satisfied that the guilt isn’t drowning her like it sometimes does when she catches herself lingering on his attractiveness for too long but Mystic Falls, the real Mystic Falls seems so far away. Elena, Caroline, Matt, Alaric, her old life just seems unattainable, no bigger than a memory she occasionally mistakes for a bad dream.

There’s no denying that being away from it all, here with Damon as the only other person in the world, she feels…safe. Maybe even protected, it’s a stark contrast from the real Mystic Falls where her life is always on the line.

Bonnie starts to get up when she feels his hold on her tighten to prevent her from moving away. They play tug of war for a bit but she eventually stops fighting because Damon is a vampire after all, physical strength is going to get her nowhere. “Fine,” she grumbles, then plops down which causes the end of her top to ride up enough that she can feel the press of Damon’s nose on the curve of her waist. Despite trying to inch her shirt back down, she has no luck. Naturally Damon doesn’t mind.

He inhales her skin deeply, makes a sound of approval before groggily muttering, “Going topless now, are we Judgey?”

She grabs his hair again, yanks his head back as a rebuttal, and Damon bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds. He has to ensure that all of the blood in his body isn’t rushing south too fast but unfortunately, he would have to sever both his arms completely off to stop the blood flow.

Bonnie realizes the dazed look in his eyes isn’t one of pain nor is it from sleep, “Not the reaction you expected, huh?” He asks, gesturing for her to look down but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s embarrassed, and to make matters worse, a teensy bit turned on.

“You scared, Bon Bon? I thought you were big and bad,” Damon mocks, pulling between his legs to make more room in his jeans, “it’s okay. I know Jeremy left much to be desired.” He sits up with swirls of longing still in his eyes, then grabs a pillow to place in his lap.

“Scared?” She guffaws. “Of what exactly?”

“Me…You.”

“And that means?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bon, figure it out.” Damon taunts, holding her eyes with his. “It’s awfully lonely here.”

She says nothing for a while, refusing to break eye contact first. “So.”

“Soooo, I won’t tell if you won’t.” It’s almost a joke, almost because she has a feeling if she says yes to whatever sort of ambiguous proposal he’s thrown up in the air, there won’t be any laughter. If she says no, it’s no different from his usual innuendos but boy, will she wonder.

“Wanna take a walk on the wild side?” He asks in a singsong tone, eyes dropping to her lips then back up to her eyes.

There are no alarms, no cell phones, no one here that can interrupt this moment. She has to answer, though she has no idea what will come out of her mouth. Bonnie shuts her eyes to make the moment less real, as if it will change the fact that she whispers, “Just one kiss,”

They’re nose to nose when Damon whispers back, “a peck.”

She swallows his breath. “Mhmm,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing.”

“As light as air,” he presses his lips to hers for a brief moment then pulls back again. “See.” He peppers more kisses on her lips, down her jaw, the side of her neck, but they’re heavier. They have a density now. His tongue is on the flesh of her shoulder, teasing up her neck. She feels the light imprint of sharp canines, arousal surges through her like a power circuit, so intense that she moans. When he makes his way back up, their mouths both open in a feral kiss that robs them of air.

Bonnie holds his face in place though he makes no attempt to move away. The pillow falls out from between them when he grabs Bonnie’s leg to straddle him.

It’s nothing.

Nothing separating them from attacking each other’s mouths, nothing stopping Damon from gripping his best friend’s hips, nothing saving Bonnie from discarding his shirt.

His skin is cool enough that she can stream together some thought in between relentless kisses. “Damon,” she tries her best to sound admonishing.

“Please, not right now.” Damon cuffs both her wrists behind her with one hand and plants a hickey just above her cleavage. She sees stars. He already knows what the inflection in her voice means- the timing couldn’t be worse.“Let’s save the guilt for tomorrow morning.” His tone is octaves lower, almost as low as his lids. He drags his eyes up to hers, and they’re so shiny she can see her reflection. “I need this, Bonnie. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just continues on with his ministrations, hypnotized by the pheromones seeping off of her in waves, wanting to memorize the scent with his tongue. She whines his name, like actually whines his name, and the feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach scares him. Bonnie is so oblivious to the appeal she carries but if she sat in his skin for a day, hell, for a moment, she would realize just how long she’s been driving him insane.

“We can’t,” she groans weakly. “We can’t.”

Damon tries to breathe easier, but that feeling is lurking in his gut. She’s right. The things he’d do to her, he’d break her in half. He removes Bonnie from his lap, separates from her warmth, her scent. Backs away until the tv threatens to fall off the stand. Everything in him tells him to go back, to reenter the magnetic pull, to poke at her forcefield.

He backs away even further if possible. Her breath catches at the distance.

Bonnie’s cheeks are flushed, warm and red like fruit. If she was an apple, she would have already been eaten down to the core. If she was a peach, it would be easier to explain why he ate her. He thinks to himself that he’s officially off the rails, comparing Bonnie to fruit like he is, but he’s trying to rationalize his irrationality. Because if Bonnie never stopped him, he’d definitely be eating something by now.

“Nothing happened.” She says, ignoring his expression and the silent plea in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He deadpans, throwing his shirt back over his head.

Damon thinks of how different things would be if he had his way. Bonnie, spent, drunk, high off of him. Bleeding and wild, pretty and dangerous, yelling for God. He would plunge Jeremy right out of her, help her find her magic again. Give her everything she could dream of. He gulps.

She doesn’t sleep with him tonight, not in the same bed. She’s on the opposite end of the boarding house when he hears her slide under the covers.

The next morning, he thinks to himself, if she even utters a word about last night, he’ll pick up from where he left off. But she doesn’t, her eyes are far away again, and the only proof he has of their adventures is the wonderful, purple hickey.

When movie night comes back around, his head is in her lap and her hand is back in his hair, running to and fro like him in his lavender fields.

That’s all he gets.

Every now and then, it’s enough.

Bonnie gives and takes, then takes away some more.

She’s the closest thing to God he’ll probably ever know.

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner��s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 5)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild smut

Part Summary: You and Topper make amends. You two attend the end of the summer bonfire at the Boneyard. When JJ sees you guys together, things take a turn for the worst. 

Masterlist

Somehow, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep on your bed. You're not quite sure when it happened. Your covers tucked nicely under you, wet from your tears. When you first got home, you immediately snuck up to your room, far from your parents. You ripped off your Labor Day dress, having already hated it, but you also took your aggression out on it. You changed in one of Topper's T-shirts that you stole sometime last summer... when you were hooking up. You had never been so close. Morning, noon, and night you were together. You were practically dating but without the titles. Actually, it was far deeper than that. You spent almost every hour together, you co-existing. You were acting married even though you were only teenagers. You guys just loved each other that much. If someone had told you then that a year from now you two wouldn't be talking, you would've thought they were crazy. 

“Y/N!" You hear Topper in your dreams.  "Y/N!" He repeats, then you process it's real. 

"What the-" You rise from your laid position and spot the boy climbing in from your window in the dark. "Topper?" 

"Hey! Sorry to scare you," he apologizes as he rises to his feet from a crawling position on your floor. 

"Did you climb through the window?" You question, this wouldn't be the first time, but it nevertheless is mind-boggling to you how he can climb up the side of your house. 

"Yeah, can you tell your mom to not have the gardeners cut the vines so short?" He complains with a chuckle, brushing down his Patagonia shirt. 

"What are you doing here?" You yawn. Considering what he said to you just hours before, you can't help but wonder why the fuck he's here. 

"I... I need to apologize," he stammers, taking a seat on the edge of your bed just by your legs. "Y/N, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have-" 

Before he can even finish, you leap at him, pulling him into a pleading hug. "Jesus, I'm so happy you're here," you whisper against his shoulder. 

Topper instantly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you. He releases a deep breath, not having realized until this moment that he couldn't breathe the entire time you weren't talking. "I've missed you!" He pulls back and brushes his hand across your cheek, bringing your hair back. "I missed you the moment you left!" He wears a smile of relief as his eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall. 

"Never let me go again," you mutter, almost as a beg. 

"I could never. I didn't," Topper explains in a rushed whisper, gripping your waist. "As soon as you left I was a mess, ask the boys! They had to talk me off a cliff. I came by earlier but your parents said you were still at Kiara's... which I'm guessing you were with JJ and the other Pogues..." His face falters and he avoids your gaze at the mention of JJ. 

You bring your hand up and tuck your fingers under his chin, guiding him to look at you. His eyes meet you with defeat and it nearly breaks your heart. "JJ drove me back to John B's, but I had Sarah drive me home almost as soon as we got there." 

"So you and JJ..." He can't bring himself to ask. 

"We..." Your brows scrunch together as you realize you never really discussed it. "You know what, I didn't even know." Enough about JJ, you're just happy that Topper is here! You felt so empty all day, in a constant state of panic. Now, you can exist again. "I'm just relieved you're here, Top. I've felt sick to my stomach all day," you release a breathless laugh of relief. 

"No, yeah you're right, no one else matters," he shakes his head, reaching for your hand on his cheek and taking it in his hands. "As long as we're good then everything else will be okay." He lifts your hand to his lips and gives them a needy kiss. 

"Stay with me?" You ask softly as he does. 

You see him swallow hard, pausing with your hand his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "I was hoping you'd ask." A faint grin appearing on the edge of his lips. 

You and Topper get ready for bed as you used to every night when he snuck into your room a lot more. You've shared a bed since breaking off your... arrangement. There was the ski trip and Bermuda, but on random nights when he couldn't sleep or missed you, Topper would find himself in your bed. You pull back your blankets, knowing to get on the side closest to the window, away from the door. Topper didn't need to think twice to move to the opposite side because ever in the case of an emergency, he's the closest to the door. He's always thinking of how to keep you safe and satisfied. As you climb in, Topper begins to remove his t-shirt and shorts. You can't help but watch as his clothes become a pile on his side. It's months since you two have done anything, but that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. There have been opportunities, but you always try to be responsible and remember why you stopped. Topper doesn't notice your staring and wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers down his chest. He climbs in next to you and immediately guides you into his side. Instantly, you feel secure and wanted, which is all anyone ever needs. He brushes his fingertips up and down your spine gently while you rest your cheek against his bare chest. It's not a new feeling to you, but it certainly never gets old. 

"There's a bonfire tomorrow at the Boneyard, wanna go together?" The boy asks, glancing down at you. 

"As long as Rafe doesn't go wild as he did," you snicker, but you mean what you say. 

"Don't worry about him, we had a nice long chat once he sobered up this afternoon," he insinuates and you wish you would've seen Topper go off on him. Then, you comprehend that it might've only happened because Topper was mad at you and Rafe was getting the side effects. 

"He doesn't deserve you, Top." You mutter, lifting your head off his chest to place a quick kiss on his chest. 

"That's how I feel about myself with you," he confesses as he peers down at you. "You've always been there for me. When Sarah cheated, you were right there and pulled me through it. The way I spoke to you this morning. I-" 

"No, no, don't say that," you shake your hand repeatedly as you cup his cheek as you did before. He leans into your touch and you find yourself wishing to be closer to him, as though that's even possible. "I love you, Top. You're my best friend. I'll always be there for you. You've helped me in more ways than you could ever realize." 

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "So much..." he whispers against your skin. 

His eyes flicker down to your neck and you remember last night in the kitchen. You brush your hand across Topper's cheek, pulling his focus back to you. His eyes and features falter at the evidence of JJ on you. 

"I'm here with you! Okay? It's you and me," you try to emphasize. 

He nods slowly, still feeling an ache in his chest, but relieved to have you in his arms. You're it for Topper. He would do anything for you, drop anyone for you, nothing is too much. You alone are what drives him and are the reason he wakes up in the morning. He would never admit it aloud out of guilt, but when he was with Sarah, he always compared her to you. He doesn't fully know why he dated her, maybe because he felt you slipping away when you realized that you no longer wanted to hook up. He couldn't lose you so he tried to replace you, but he quickly realized that was impossible. No one could be you. 

_____________________________________

Topper woke up before you and let you sleep, pondering having you in his arms. Your legs entangled in his, your arm across his chest along with your cheek. In the light, he finally notices you wearing his shirt. A faint smile forms on his lips at the sight. He has you here with him, not with JJ or Rafe or anyone else who's pining after you. You're his. 

You've spent the entire day together on Topper's boat. It couldn't have been more perfect. The hours slipped by without either of you two noticing. Topper has been energized and enthusiastic about everything, all because he has you back. Around ten, you and Topper arrive at the Boneyard for the final bonfire of the summer. You wear distressed white short shorts over a black tank bodysuit with a matching black Chanel belt. All finished with the pearl earrings Topper gave you for Christmas last year.  

Topper keeps you close, his arm around your waist as you walk toward the crowd of teenagers. "I'm so lucky." 

You peer up at the boy with a giggle. "Why?" 

"I have the most beautiful girl in the OBX at my side," he flirts. 

You turn your attention ahead, struggling to hide your blushing. "You sound like Rafe." 

Topper steps around to walk backward in front of you. He locks his fingers through the loops of your shorts and pulls you into his chest. "At least he and I agree on something." He grins, resting his hands on your hips. 

You playfully roll your eyes but find it hard to hide your amusement. "You're such a cheese ball." 

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he announces before planting a quick peck to your temple. 

You nod, stepping back toward the shore as Topper holds onto your hands until the last minute. "Okay, I'll find us a spot by the water." 

"Be right there," he winks, offering you a mischievous smirk. 

For a second, you watch Topper jog off to the stack of coolers by the cement wall. Is it possible to be too dependent on someone? You know that if you and Topper stopped talking completely that you wouldn't physically die, but emotionally it would destroy you. You smile, knowing that you two will grow closer because of your fight. It taught you a valuable lesson. It took losing Topper for you to fully comprehend how much you need him. Turning on your heels, you head toward a log facing the shore. It's far enough from the chaos to give you and Topper some privacy, but close enough to still be included in the festivities. You two are both social butterflies, but today has been about you two and you want to keep it that way. You sit down on the log, content watching the small waves crashing against the sand just a few feet away. The light of the moon shimmers on the water, making it looks like lines of crystal. 

"Want a drink, Princess?" A familiar voice asks over your shoulder 

You glance up to see a 

"Wow, you look extra Kooky tonight," he remarks under his breath as he brings his cup to his mouth. 

You glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Let's play a game!" He blurts out. "How many items that Y/N is wearing are designer?"

You roll your eyes, realizing how drunk he is because JJ isn't like this. "How much have you had to drink?" 

"Just the right amount!" He answers swiftly before moving on. "My guess is all of them, but I can't be too sure. You'll have to take off your clothes so I can check what's underneath." 

"You wanna sit for a second? Maybe cool down a bit?" You offer, gesturing to the space beside you. 

His expression shifts from carefree to hurt. "Why do you care?" 

"JJ..." You sigh, peering up at the boy with immense guilt. 

"What?!" He tosses his arms up at his sides, losing some of his drink in the process. "You come here with Prince Charming, acting all coupley!" 

 "It's not like that-" You try to explain calmly. 

"Not according to Sarah!" He counters in a shout. You nervously check over at the crowd, making sure no one heard him burst. "You two planning your next trip to Bermuda?!" 

"What!" You whip your head back around toward JJ. "What did Sarah tell you?!" You fly up to your feet, stepping toward him defensively. 

"Did you sleep with him?!" JJ yells again and you're sure others heard him this time. 

"Excuse me?" You gasp at his audacity. 

"After you left John B's, did you go and find him?!" He elaborates with a breathless laugh. He steps closer to you, getting in your face. He doesn't care if others listen or if he's making you uncomfortable. "After you kissed me and slept in my bed, did you go and sleep with Topper?!" 

Abruptly, you feel a hand pressed to your back and see JJ being shoved backyard. 

"Hey! Back off man!" Topper growls, suddenly at your side. 

JJ catches himself from falling after a second of stumbling. "Oh and here he is now!" He laughs, tossing his cup to the side. "Your knight in shining armor!" 

"I think you should go, man!" Topper warns between his teeth. 

Topper's arm slips around you and grips your waist protectively. You watch JJ as he glares at Topper's arm around you. 

"Don't "man" me, alright! Touch me again and you'll lose a hand!" JJ threatens. 

"JJ!" John B calls for his friend as he runs toward you from down the beach. Kiara, Pope, and Sarah are close behind him. When JJ doesn't react. John B shouts again. JJ! Come on, let's go back over to the fire." 

"No! Not until she answers me!" JJ screams, yanking his arm free. 

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah watch in distress as JJ and Topper go back and forth. None of you are sure what to do. 

"Answer what!" Topper barks, stepping toward JJ defensively. You grab his arm, keeping him back. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is your name Y/N?" JJ laughs mockingly. "That Kook Academy doesn't do you guys any favors for your intelligence does it?" 

Pope steps around to block off his friend. "Just cool down, buddy!" 

"I knew you were Kook, Y/N, but I would've never marked you as slut," JJ shouts at you over Pope's shoulder. 

Topper breaks free of your hold, charging at JJ. John B grabs Pope and yanks him out of Topper's way. Now block-less, JJ runs at Topper. His face is red with aggravation. You could've never imagined seeing JJ look so enraged. The person he was with you the other night was entirely different. He was kind, gentle, understanding. You don't recognize him. Topper shoves JJ hard enough to make the boy fall back onto the sand. 

Topper tackles JJ into the ankle-deep water, immediately punching him in the jaw. The two grunt, struggling to get the upper hand. John B attempts to pull Topper off. 

"Topper!" You yell desperately. 

"JJ!" Kiara yells from the sidelines. 

"Enough!" John B barks at the pair as Pope runs to assist. 

The crowd by the bonfire starts to figure out what's going on a few yards away and rush over to watch. Pogues and Kooks each cheer for their fighter. Kelce and Rafe show up, pushing through the crowd to help out their friend. 

"Topper! Get off of him!" You plead as your best friend continues to press JJ's head under the water. 

JJ manages to punch Topper in the cheek, making the boy lose his balance for a second. Despite hating each other, Kelce and Rafe try to help out John B and Pope. 

"Guys! Quit!" Kelce commands, pulling at Topper. 

"Top, you'll kill him!" Sarah screams from beside Kiara. 

You want to go stand with them, but at this moment you're not sure if they want anything to do with you. Sarah and Kiara are Pogues. You're not just Y/N right now, their friend. You're a Kook during this Kook vs. Pogue fight. 

The boys manage to yank Topper off of JJ. The blonde Pogue flies up from beneath the surface, gasping for air. Topper falls back onto the sand in a seated position. Topper continues to fist JJ's collar and as he's shoved off, ripping JJ's shirt down the front. You notice the large purple and blue bruise on JJ's chest and freshly heeling cut down his neck to his collar bone. JJ frantically reaches behind himself, searching for something. Then, things take a turn for the worst when he whips out a gun. The crowd that watched the fight with amusement now scatters in a panic. 

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Topper's eyes grow wide as he starts to scoot back, holding up a hand pleadingly. 

Kelce and Rafe bolt away, John B and Pope rush out words, trying to calm JJ down. 

"JJ!" John B yells at his friend. "What the hell?!" 

"Oh my god!" Sarah's hands fly up to her mouth. 

"That's right! Bet you didn't think I had that did ya?" JJ grins wickedly at Topper. 

"Topper!" Kelce attempts to collect his friend but halts when JJ points the gun at him. 

"Everyone back off!" JJ orders, rising to his feet, returning the gun's point toward Topper. 

Without a second thought, you sprint across the sand. You slide in front of Topper, the waves splashing against you. 

"Y/N! No!" Topper screams as soon as you land in JJ's path. 

"Y/N!" Sarah and Kiara shout your name in unison. 

JJ hesitates when his eyes land on you. You see him lower the gun a little and Kelce takes the opportunity to pull Topper from the scene. 

"JJ please..." you beg of him. 

Your heart is racing, but you're certain JJ won't hurt you. Despite his evident pain and anger toward you, he won't do it. You remember the boy from the other night, the one who spoke to you with such admiration. That boy wouldn't harm you. You know he's in there beneath this tough facade. 

"Y/N! Come on!" Rafe wraps his fingers around your arm and drags you away. 

While he's distracted by you, John B swiftly steals the gun from JJ's hand and begins ushers him away to their circle of friends. The Pogues swarm JJ, all talking over each other. 

 Rafe frantically cups your face, checking on you. "Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." You mutter, glancing over your shoulder, watching John B talk to JJ down the beach. 

"No cuts? Scrapes?" Rafe panics. 

"No..." You shake your head absent-mindedly as you’re too distracted by observing JJ. 

"Are you okay?" Kiara checks on JJ worriedly as you watch from a distant. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" JJ rushes out, still agitated. "Fuck this man!" He swears, then his eyes land on yours with surprise. He hand’t expected you to be listening or even care. 

You two stare each other from across the beach. Guilt consumes his features and sympathy breaks you apart as your vision lands on the wounds covering JJ’s torso. Rafe brings you over to Kelce who has Topper catching his breath against a tree. 

"Dude's fucking nuts, man!" Kelce curses, all fidgety beside you. 

As soon Topper sees you coming, he pushes himself off the tree and rushes to you. His arms engulf you as he presses you to his chest. 

He squats down to be at your level, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so stupid, Y/N! You just jumped in front of a gun! Why would you do that?!” 

“Because it was pointed at you!” You justify desperately. 

Topper's eyes soften. “You’d risk your life for me?! Are you crazy?!” A soft, breathless, laugh escapes him. 

“Of course I would you idiot!” You remark with frustration. How could he possibly think you wouldn't? You'd do anything for the boy. 

“God, I love you so much," he mutters, placing a hand on either side of your head and planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?” You check his body in a panic. 

“Yes, yes I’m okay!” He assures you. “Let’s get out of here before things get crazy again." 

Your eyes grow wide. “Agreed!” 

He looks over at you and Topper doting on each other. It makes him even more pissed off. "Great! Go baby him! Tend to your Kook Prince, you Princess!" He yells across the beach. 

John B covers his friend's mouth. "Shut up, JJ!" 

"Jesus JJ!" Pope huffs under his breath. 

You and Topper snap your heads in JJ's direction. As a result, Topper pulls you into his side securely. 

“We'll text you guys later!” Kelce calls out to you both as he and Rafe start backing toward their cars. 

“Stay close to me,” Topper slips his into yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m never letting that psycho Pogue anywhere near you again!” 

When you arrive at Topper's car, he opens your door for you. He keeps a sharp eye on the Pogues that remain on the beach. When John B or any of them glance our way, he glares daggers in their direction. Once you climb in, Topper reaches in and begins to buckle your seat belt as though you were a toddler in a car seat. 

“Topper I think I can put on my own seat belt,” you 

“I know, Sweetheart. I’m just..." he stops his action, kneeling beside you. "I guess I’m still a little scared. I was so afraid when that gun was pointed at you, I... I couldn’t breathe. I can never lose you, Y/N,” he rushes out, becoming emotional. 

Your emotions become bottled up as a lump in your throat. You rub your fingers through Topper's hair and plant a kiss on his forehead. His hands glide around your waist to your back, hugging you needly. His head rests against your chest as you cradle it. 

Abruptly, he breaks from you as a thought pops into his mind. “Promises me that if there’s any dangerous situation like that again, you run!" He instructs sternly. "You don’t do anything reckless for my sake!” 

You shake your head frantically, already rejecting his words. “You would’ve done the same thing for me! You basically did!” You justify. 

“I’m seriously Y/N!" Topper stands his ground. Eagerly, he takes removes your hands from his hair and squeezes them in his own. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you! Never again!” 

You want to argue with him on it, claim that if he's going to be protective of you that he must understand that you'll be the same. Yet, nothing escapes you. Instead, you simply nod, not wanting to fight at this moment. 

He nods, satisfied by your compliance. “I love you, you know that right?” 

You nod. “I love you too, Topper." 

_________________________________________

JJ fell into a dark abyss of self-deprecation and destruction after the bonfire. The Pogues all drove back to John B's, but as soon as they got there JJ disappeared as he did the day before. All they can do is wonder where he goes. If they knew that he was at the bar searching for his dad half drunk, they would be stopping a second fight for the day. 

JJ can't help but feel responsible for it all. One minute he has you. You're right there. The next, you're gone, in the arms of Topper of all people. He wants to know if anything from the other night was real for you. Was he just a game to you? You're the Princess of the OBX, you can have anything you want, including JJ if you asked. Is that what happened? You wanted him for a night and then got bored and went back to your fellow Kook. He wishes he hadn't let you down. He wishes you were here. He wishes that he could hold you again and feel you in his arms. Waking up next to you was the best moment in his life and he fears he'll never feel that sort of peace again. 

______________________________________________________

You Topper spend the night at his house, too afraid to be apart. Late into the night, Topper struggles to fall asleep as he holds you. Your back is pressed to his chest as his hands rest against you underneath his shirt you're wearing. Every time he tries to close his eyes, he envisions what could've happened tonight. You could've been shot. Topper could never live with himself if anything happened to you. Moving slowly to not wake you, he rolls onto his back and reaches toward the nightstand for his phone. He begins to scroll through social media and text messages, responding in the group chat between you, Kelce, Rafe, and himself. You've all agreed to go to lunch tomorrow at the Club with some other Kooks from the bonfire. 

You stir next to Topper, making the boy pause for a second. When you roll over still asleep and curl into him, a wave of relief rushes over Topper. 

“Go back to sleep,” you yawn. 

Topper jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. “Shit... sorry Beautiful, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“I’ve been awake. I could feel you overthinking," you whisper, scooting closer into his side. 

“You could feel me thinking?” He repeats with a hint of confusion.

You hum, as it makes perfect sense to you. You hear the sound of Topper pushing his phone back onto the side table. He rests his now free hand over your arm that lays across him. After a couple of minutes, you can still feel the tension radiating from him. 

“I’m okay, Topper,” you tell him to ease his nerves. 

“I know, I can’t just help but review the course of events in my head. What if he didn’t hesitate? What if his hand slipped? What if-“ 

“Enough!” You fly up to prop yourself up on your elbow. You stare down at the worried boy with sympathy. "You’re okay! I’m okay! What’s done is done and all we can do is be safe from now on. We’re safe!” You reach up and comb your fingers through the side of his hair. “Okay? It’s just you and me here.” 

Impulsively, Topper extends his neck and slams his lips to yours. You sit stunned as the kiss rides out its course. You and Topper go months without anything intimate and within two days, he's kissed you twice, breaking every ruled you two have made. When you don't react, Topper breaks from you with a startled expression, as if he wasn't comprehending his actions. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry! I-“ 

Before Topper can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his hungrily. You're not sure why, but you need him. Topper is your kryptonite, the bittersweet reality in your life. Forgetting his regret, Topper immediately sits up, resting against his headboard. You take the opportunity to straddle his torso and he keeps you steady with his hands on your hips. It's been ages since you've made out, but it's like riding a bike for you two. You know what each other likes and what gets the other going. 

"I've missed you so much," Topper whispers against your jawline as he moves down to leave marks on your neck. He aggressively attacks your sensitive skin where evidence of JJ remains. Deep down in the back of your mind, you know Topper is parking his territory for JJ to see later. Your skin has become a battleground for the two. "I've missed this." 

"Me too," you pant, silently wondering if you truly mean it in the same sense as him. 

Though you chose to kiss Topper back and want to, you can’t understand why JJ’s face enters your mind the moment you do. As you deepen the kiss with Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel, it's familiar and reminds you of a time when you were carefree. Yet, your thoughts remain fixated on JJ. You want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ. 

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things @hockeybabe87 @jolomez

[peachtree-dish]

A Te Che Sei Il Mio Amore Grande

I'm writing fanfics again. Woot!

Inspired by the song of the same name.

Chapter One: Quando Ti Guardo

June 06, 1969

Luca drummed his fingers restlessly along the soft velvet of his armrest, his eyes switched from peering out at the Italian coastal terrain and once again reading the watch that rested against his wrist.

“You’re doing it again.”

His eyes snapped up to watch as Giulia sighed at him from behind the thick leather-bound novel in her hands. As her amused yet exasperated gaze landed on him, he grinned sheepishly.

“Mi dispiace, Giulia. I honestly don’t remember the ride being this long.” He checked his watch again and grimaced. “Has it really only been ten minutes?”

Admitting defeat, the red-headed girl marked her place and set the book aside. “Luca, it’s been nine months, si? But what is the one thing we’ve learned about time from Segnora Rosa?” She quirked a knowing brow at him as Luca slumped forward.

“Time is always constant, lo so.” He mumbled.

“Esattamente, therefore,” She continued as she picked up her book with renewed gusto, “the train will take exactly an hour every single time we travel to and from Porto Rosso.” With her argument settled, Giulia returned to her page and began reading once more. After a moment of stillness, she peered at him subtly from above her page. Luca was looking outside once more, his eyes filled with a mixture of yearning, and his mouth twisted in anxiety. With a kinder expression, she said, “If it’s any consolation, amico mio, I’m sure he’s just as nervous to see you.”

Luca puffed out his cheeks but didn’t reply, instead preferring to peer down at his clasped hands.

“Maybe you could finish the bracelets you’ve been working on, that will help you pass the time better and maybe keep your mind off things, eh?” She nodded to his school jacket pocket which held a mass of multicolored strings that had yet to be organized. Perking up at the thought, Luca agreed and set to work on detangling the threads from one another.

Outside the bright light of the morning sun blazed peacefully across the pristine indigo coastline and followed the two youths on the journey. Some miles away, a small town was anything but peaceful.

“Massimo!” A young man jumped up the paved stairways of Porto Rosso, disturbing the half-dozen pigeons resting there. At their indignant coos and squawks, Alberto quickly glanced back with a slight shout of “sorry!” before continuing on his rampage towards the Marcovaldo residence. Skidding to a stop once he passed the archway, he leaned heavily against the tree that he and Luca had slept in nearly a year ago prior and gasped.

With a large crash, both Massimo and Machiavelli burst through the front door looking frazzled and ready for a fight. The latter was fully puffed up with his claws digging into the cobblestone walkway and his pupils shrunken to small slits. Massimo swiveled his head around looking for whatever danger could have provoked Alberto’s shout, his shoulders hunched and his good arm gripping his harpoon tightly. However, when no danger presented itself, he glared half-heartedly through his eyebrows at the young sea monster who sheepishly grinned.

“Well, where’s the fuoco, eh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Massimo, everything’s fine. But!” He pointed animatedly at the large man, “you are aware of what day it is, right? We only have a few hours until-”

“Until Giulia and Luca arrive, si piccolo, lo so. You’ve only been talking about it for a month now.” Shouldering his harpoon and popping his neck, the old fisherman turned to enter the house, an unhappy Machiavelli climbing onto his open shoulder, but not before growling irritably at Alberto.

“Come have breakfast, Alberto, we’ll see what we can do to keep busy while we wait.” The large man patted Alberto’s sun-kissed shoulder before entering the house. Slumping in resignation, the teen followed behind Massimo but not before stretching to give one last searching look at the expansive cliffs that breached the horizon, hopeful to see a plume of smoke.

**************

When the train finally pulled into the stazione, Luca was already flinging the train door open and running into the waiting arms of his mother who squealed with delight and refused to set him down for several long moments, much to Luca’s embarrassment and secret delight. An equally excited Giulia was soon to follow, and she said a quick hello to the Paguro’s before launching into Massimo’s open arms. While his father patted him on the head and asked the generic questions of wellbeing, Luca tried to glance around his parents. If Massimo was here, then so was-

“I told you I’d be okay.” Luca’s heart thudded painfully in his chest for one moment as Alberto sauntered into view. Prying himself from his mother, the young sea monster swiftly walked to Alberto and embraced him without pause. Luca buried his face into the crook of Alberto’s neck and breathed him in for the first time in nine months.

Whatever nerves and fear Alberto had been holding released him the moment his best friend enveloped him in his arms. Luca had grown slightly taller over the colder months and his skin had lost its sun-kissed pigmentation, but the warmth in his eyes had not faded in the slightest.

“Welcome home, Luca,” Alberto mumbled into his friend's hair, ignoring the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes, he pulled away with a chuckle. “Are we going to do this every time we say ciao?” Luca smiled wetly and scrubbed weakly at his face.

“I think I could get used to it if it’s with you.” Alberto resolutely decided to ignore the heat that gathered in his cheeks as Luca turned to answer Massimo. Brushing it off as too much time in the sun, he tuned into the conversation just as the gentle fisherman began speaking of their new fishing truck.

“Grazie to Alberto’s ‘knowing fish’, we earned enough for me to invest in an auto,” Massimo stated proudly, clasping a large hand onto Alberto’s shoulder. The teen modestly scratched under his hat and shrugged, turning to Giulia and Luca.

“He’s really only saying that. Massimo did all the hard work; I just stuck my head underwater a few times every day to navigate us. But!” Alberto waved towards the station entrance and began pulling Luca by the hand. “you really have to see the truck I’ve been writing to you about.”

The truck itself was what could hardly be described as new. The front bumper was barely hanging on and rusted completely through on the right side. Green chipped paint covered the doors and Luca noted with a swell of warmth the black hand-painted logo of “Massimo and Alberto Fishing co.” Most people would consider the truck like garbage, but Alberto found the faded paint and broken glass charming, and he said as much to the group. Giulia rubbed suspiciously at the truck’s tailgate, her eyes squinting as she studied it.

“The Americans call it a ‘Hudson pickup’,” Massimo announces proudly, his pronunciation heavily accented.

“I’m still not sold on it being actually safe, but I’ll admit it wasn’t too bad the first time Massimo drove it.” Daniela opined, opening the front door with a loud squeal.

“Yeah, not so much when Alberto decided to try it,” Lorenzo muttered good-naturedly. “My tail still won’t swim straight.”

“You drove the truck?!”

“You crashed the truck?!”

Giulia and Luca exclaimed, she glanced curiously at her papa who raised his hands innocently. Luca began looking at Alberto’s arms and skin, scouring for any injuries, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation.

“He’ll be sixteen this year, mia figlia, he’ll need at least a year of practice. Nessun problema, your time will come soon.”

“Oh, come on,” Alberto kindly pulled Luca’s hands away and hopped on the rear end beaming down at his family, “it wasn’t so bad for the first time. Plus, she just needs some love and she’ll be right as rain. You guys just can’t see her potential.” He patted the chipped paint fondly. “Not to mention this makes delivery way faster.” Massimo chuckled as Lorenzo continued to grumble and Daniela merely rolled her eyes.

“Si, and speaking of quick deliveries, let’s go home and eat lunch, hm?” Massimo lifted Luca and Giulia's luggage into the bed of the truck while the rest of the family, the Paguro and Marcovaldo families together again at last.

As the truck rattled through the colorful fishing port threatening to fall apart, Giulia and Luca rattled story after story to Alberto and Luca’s parents. Alberto tried to ignore the feelings of jealousy at the way his friends appeared to be so in tune. He laughed politely at their inside jokes and did his best to understand half the jargon they spouted, but in reality, he felt more lost than ever before. Stuffing the uncomfortable feelings down as far they’d go, Alberto helped the Paguro’s down first so that Daniela could help with preparing the food alongside Massimo. While Lorenzo had shown an interest in learning the human ways of cooking, he hadn’t quite managed to pull it off as well.

“You set the curtains on fire one time, and they never let you set foot in the kitchen again,” Lorenzo complained to the kids as he followed his wife.

“Except it wasn’t just the curtains,” Alberto whispered loudly to his best friends who giggled unapologetically.

“ONE TIME!” Lorenzo called hotly from inside.

Giulia smirked at her friends, “Some things never change, amicos.” Grabbing her bag, she turned to the house, “Oh, and Luca don’t forget about your gift!” She winked knowingly at a flustered Luca and befuddled Alberto.

Alberto glanced down at Luca who was doing his best impression of a frozen fish.

“Uh, was that supposed to me-”

“I made you something!!” Luca blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth. He glanced nervously at Alberto, who merely stared back stunned. Fishing in his uniform jacket pocket, Luca wordlessly pulled out the two multicolored bracelets from his pocket and held one out to Alberto. Alberto stood frozen his eyes glued to the green and purple threads glistening in the warm afternoon sun, his mouth hung loose in a silent ‘oh’. The threads danced innocently between them, and Luca felt his bravado begin to waver. When he still hadn’t said anything or moved to take the bracelet from Luca’s grasp, the younger boy grew more flustered and started to pull away, his voice shaking. “I- I’m sorry, you probably think this is so stupid.” Luca tried to not panic, desperately willing his mortification away.

Alberto’s hand shot out to pull both the bracelet and Luca’s hand back. “I can’t believe you made this for me.” He whispered, cradling the bracelet tenderly as he studied it in his palms. He traced the twining threads and smiled at how the pattern reminded him of scales. He looked at Luca and put his arm around him to pull him close. “I love it, thank you. No one’s ever given me something so beautiful.”

“R-really?” Luca asked, his expression hopeful.

“Really. Did you make this too?” Alberto squinted at the painted pearl hanging from the end of the strings, creating a clasp to hold it in place.

“Giulia's mom actually helped me design those with her paints.” Luca motioned to the pearl. “She said that gifts help make the distances feel smaller.” He pondered the delicately painted waves of his own pearl. “It’s funny when I was learning so much and seeing so many places, I never realized how far from home I would feel.” His gaze landed on Alberto, only now realizing how close they were. Up close he could see the new freckles that peppered his cheeks and how his face was slimming down. Nine months of hard work had broadened his shoulders and caused his wiry arms to harden with lean muscle. Clearing his throat, he pulled away again.

“Anyways, I guess we better go inside before the food gets cold.” Blushing as red as Massimo’s favorite wine, Luca threw one last smile over his shoulder and ran inside. Alberto grinned in response and slid the bracelet over his wrist fastening it so that it hugged him snugly. An emotion that he couldn’t quite name filled every part of him, spreading from his toes to the tip of his ears. Walking inside to the smells of homemade pasta and loud laughter, Alberto felt that the promise of a wonderful summer had just begun.

[nejibaby]

Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you’ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

<If you have ideas too, feel free to send them in because i love receiving them 🥰 I’ll be linking them here too!>

[writefightandflightclub]

Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

[spideymarvelws]

can you do some technoblade x teen platonic reader headcanons about techno sorta being the reader’s mentor and being one of the only people on the smp who could actually defeat technoblade in a sword fight?

behold... another main character

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To Your Taglist

Warnings : Violence, Death, Some cursing

Word Count : 4.0k

The Blade and The Survivor (1/?)

Technoblade x GN!Platonic!Teen!Reader

You’ve only ever heard the story’s of the famous blood god growing up

Your brother was the first to introduce you to the legend, the legend of a man who never died

Who’s fought battles that no person could ever dream of and walked out victorious every time

The well known anarchist who’s taken down government after government

You were hooked from the very beginning and after every tail he would tell, you would beg your brother to teach you how to fight like him

While your brother wasn’t the best, he knew his way around basic weapons from your grandfather and agreed 

He would bring you out to a nearby plains biome anytime you were free and teach you all he knew

And while it wasn't much, you were grateful for every piece of information and put your all into everything he taught you

He even reenacting some fights from the stories to make it interesting for you

You would always play along, acting as the infamous blade and running around with your brother

Sometimes you would shout “blood for the blood god” while killing cows or chickens

But you refused to kill pigs.

In fact you got a pet one and named it Bladey

For your birthday your brother got you a saddle and you made a carrot on a stick using the crops he stole from the farm so you could ride it across the village

He also gifted you a wooden sword and axe while he wielded stone

for safety of course, he wasn't about to give a child stone tools

Along with a shield that had the banner of your village

But out of every weapon, you were the best with a bow

You had a natural talent for it, every arrow you ever shot always hit its target

Your brother would always ruffle your hair and compare your aim to that of the blade’s, making you beam even brighter

“Who knew we have an archer on our hands, the blade could never compare,”

But all of this was done in secret

The village you lived in was safe, small and homey

Everyone knew one another, so the possibly of someone committing crimes or turning against someone was unlikely

The villagers were peaceful with one another

And with the iron golems patrolling every corner 

you loved to give them poppies from your mother’s garden as a thank you

There was no need to learn to fight when you lived in a place that never needed it

The village ran on balance, equality amongst each person so that everyone could be amongst one another in peace

Plus, at the time you were the youngest in the village, considered a baby by everyone

And while you had the kindness and curiosity to match it, there was always something missing

Training was the only thing that fulfilled it

Your brother thought that your practises would disrupt that balance so he never told anyone about your activities

And that stayed true until your last night in the village 

You, your brother and bladey were making your way back to the village after a long day of training when you noticed thick, black smoke rising from where it stood

You both started walking carefully to the area, you walking behind your brother with the pig in your arms for comfort

In the distance, you noted the shadow of pillagers and iron ore scattered across the grounds

You went to scream as you got close and run to your house, but your brother slapped his hand over your mouth and pulled you with him behind a nearby tree

But one of the pillagers heard the noise of leaves rustling and began to approach the both of you.

Your brother was quick to take out his sword, pushing you behind him 

“Listen to me Y/n, I want you to run okay? Run and never stop until you know you’re safe okay?”

You shook your head, “What about you? What about our parents?”

He smiled sadly, shakily ruffling your hair, “I’ll be right behind you... Now go!”

The sound of swords clashing and the screams of your brother were the last things you heard  as you ran, tears falling from your face 

Bladey squealed in your arms, wiggling and turning to get out of them, sensing the danger but you kept your grip tight, following your brother’s orders and running as far as pos sible

Needless to say he didn’t follow, neither did the rest of the village that was left in ashes and ruins after the attack

You couldn't find the heart to turn back, to fight along side your brother

You fled like a coward. Guilt, pain and hatred riding on your back 

But you didn't give up hope, plotting revenge against the mobs who destroyed your home

Who killed your family

You walked for days, stopping at villages, trading with them and improving your supplies

And getting a lot of carrots

Your wooden swords turned into iron, along with the rest of your tools

Your leather helmet turned into a full set of iron armor 

But you kept your old shield, repairing it every time it lost durability

You even crafted a crossbow that you learned was the main weapon pillagers used

You dreamed of pointing it at there neck, watching the sharp arrowhead puncture their skin and bleed out on the floor

You tended to sleep through the day and fight threw the night, taking out your anger on the mobs that spawned around the wood houses you made to keep yourself warm and isolated

Times when you weren't fighting and training, you spent in the library of any village you found, learning about anything you could

It was there you learnt about the rare ore diamonds, hidden deep in caves 

You also learned about enchantments, that made your armor and weapons even stronger

Soon enough you were geared up with full diamond armor and a set of diamond tools 

But it was never enough, you always needed more 

So you went to nether after repairing a ruined portal you came across

And began exploring

Gathered potions

All the materials you could find

Along with netherite

And fighting every mob you happened to pass by except piglins

For such a young age, you were stacked, maxed out to the point of boredom that you couldn't go further

Even Bladey had his own turtle shell, adjusted slightly to fit his head and allow him sight

You often wondered if this was what it was like to feel like technoblade

And throughout your journeys, you kept the stories your brother told you by heart, learning as much as you could about The Blade

You followed in his footsteps, using his successes as even more motivation to continue on your quest

And ready to finally get your revenge

It was easy to take down the pillage post, taking the banner and making your own shield that you kept as a trophy in your inventory as a reminder of what you lost

But it wasn’t enough, the loss of your family laid heavy and your heart

So you started protecting the villages you visited in exchange for lower prices in trades

You believed that was your purpose now, you had nothing else to do but fight for the people who couldn't fight for themselves

You wanted to help in ways that you couldn't all those years ago

You would wear a black cloak over your armor, the hood covering your head and a mask concealing your face

You couldn't imagine wearing a skull mask, even if it was for the aesthetic

You looked like death itself

Death with a cute pig side kick

Soon enough, word got around of a teenage warrior roaming the lands labelled ‘The Survivor’, catching the attention of Wilbur and Tommy who had just been exiled from L’manburg

“Why would we need them if we already have techno on our side?”

“Because we need all the allies we could get Tommy, plus we don’t want Shlatt to get to them first.”

You would be passing by Pogtopia on your horse with Bladey tucked into you lap sleeping, following a map to another village that needed help when a tall man stepped in front of your path, making you halt

“Why hello there, Survivor, care for a little chat?” he said ominously, leaning against your horse

You payed no mind to him, hitting his hand of your horse, rolling your eyes and moving around him

You’ve meet people like him on your travels before, people who only needed you for your skills and selfish reasons

At least, that how he came off and you didn’t care to stay and find out if your assumptions were true

“Hey, hey, hey, look, I’m sorry if I came off so forward but- I need your help,”

That made you stop.

“Need help with what exactly?”

He went on to explain his situation about a place called L’Manburg, an evil dictator named Jshlatt and his exile along with someone named TommyInnit

At first you said no.

You were only interest in keeping your own kind safe, protected people who needed it

And from the looks of it, it seemed that the two men put themselves in there position so they should be the one to take themselves out

That and you had more pressing matters to attend to than government

“What do you need? What would you want in return?” he started to beg, walking along side your horse as you started to ride away

“I already have all I need,” you croaked

“Well that seems boring. Don’t you want a bit of adventure in your life Survivor? A little bit of flavour to spice up it up? It must be so boring just fighting the same thing over and over again, why not work for a group? A collective?”

You grew tired of his voice, letting out a deep breath you began to consider his words

As much as you didn’t want to admit, he was right

You had been travelling around the lands, going insane, doing the same thing over and over

And while it helped people, it was growing tiring

Maybe one war wouldn’t be so bad, and perhaps you would learn some new stuff along the way

And the alliance with this so called L’manburg would be good for the long run

“If I agree... would you shut up?” you finally cut off his rambling and stopping your horse

He blinked in surprise, “Wow! If i had known talking would make you cave in, I would've brought up Tommy instead.”

You sighed, “I’ll help you okay? As long as I get free access to L’manburg afterwards along with all the supplies i need,”

“Done, done and done.”

The first day wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be

Wilbur was actually pretty chill, letting you make a new home out of the ravine they stayed in

Niki was also really kind, bringing sweet treats from Manburg every time she visited

It was nice to settle for a while, you couldn't remember the last time you slept under the same roof for more that a day

Your horse, Jewel along with Bladey seemed to settle well along with you

You also met Tubbo and Tommy, a lively duo that overwhelmed you at first but there energy was nice to see in such a grey environment

What you didn’t expect was to meet him

You would be mining a small space in the ravine for yourself and your pets when you heard a monotone voice sound from behind you

“Heh?! Who’s the kid?” 

You spun around, raising your sword to the intruder but froze when you noticed the familiar skull mask, along with pointy piglin ears hidden behind bright pink hair 

He didn’t seem fazed by your weapon, leaning against the stone door frame with his arms crossed

“You’re- you’re him.” you muttered in awe

Before he could respond, Wilbur popped out from behind him, “Oh, yeah. That’s Y/n, Y/n, Techno. Techno, Y/n,” he nudged his side, “They’ll be helping us take back L’manburg,”

Techno only nodded, “Nice.” he tilted his head, “Aren’t you that Survivor dude? That’s pretty pog.”

Cut to you standing frozen in place, jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide in amazement

“You- you know who I am?” you squeaked, quickly sticking your sword in the ground and leaning against the handle, stumbling slightly

An attempt to seem cool in front of your idol

An attempt that didn't really work out

He let out a hum, “Heard the name from around yeah,” he pointed to your sword, “Might not want to stab your sword in stone, It’s not that affective.”

And with that he left

Leaving you in shock

If only your brother could see you now

After that interaction, you started to follow him around like a lost puppy, watching in awe at every little thing he did

You felt like a kid again, the warmth in your chest that you lost so long ago restored because the person who tied you and your brother together was here

Because you were training and fighting along side your childhood hero

He would act annoyed at first, always shrugging you off or moving to other rooms to avoid you

You were like a parasite 

He could never shake you off

He didn’t want to grow close to anyone, he was here to take down yet another corrupt government not to look after some orphan

That was Phil’s thing.

But after time he grew a liking to you, enjoying your presence while he was farming potatoes or visiting his cow farm

You acted different around him, the hard and emotionless exterior you showed to Tommy and Wilbur completely vanished and left an innocent, happy child

He always wondered why 

People never did that with him

He was a feared name across the lands of the smp, everyone usually kept there distance and became extremely cautious in his presence

But you didn’t seem to get scared, in fact, you were a talker, constantly asking question after question even if he gave no response

It was nice not to be alone after so long even though he would never admit it 

Even the voices started to take a liking to your bubbly and curious personality

Why is she asking the same question

Maybe you should answer her blood god

She seems nice

You really do take after your father

He saw a part of himself in you

Unlike Tommy and Wilbur, you weren’t fighting for government, you were fighting because you had nothing else to do

Because you were bored with your everyday life being, essentially, an assassin 

The thought always made him chuckle

He left like he could trust you over them because your weren't driven under a government

At least that’s what he told himself

He also wanted to see why they valued your alliance so much to give up half there riches to you from L’manburg

“Duel with me.” he said to you one day, out of the blue as you both made your way across a plain biome looking to animals to kill for food

“Heh?” you said under your breath, clearing your throat while heat rose your your face at his suggestion and the noise of surprise that escaped your mouth

Techno couldn't deny that his heart warmed just a little at the small things you began to pick up from him

“Fight with me,” he drew out his sword, turning around and facing you with the weapon raised in the air, “I wanna see what you’re made of ‘Survivor’. So come on, lets fight,”

This was the first time techno actually talked to you directly, uttered words other that demands, silly excuses or grunts of acknowledgement

“I-” you let out a deep breath, shakily taking out your own sword, “Okay, okay,”

After establishing some rules, the duel began.

He let you take the first hit, barely dealing him damage but you got the second hit as well, knocking him down two hearts

He was quick to regain himself, taking three hearts with his sword and a free hit with his bow

That gave you the idea to take out your own, running a good distance away and getting three shots in

It was a close fight, you didn’t mind if you lost. Fighting Technoblade was already an honour as it was

Then you jumped of a piece of stone, landing a crit and watched his items fall to the floor

Technoblade was slain by Y/n 

You let out a short breath, eyes widening in shock that you had just won

You just killed Technoblade

“I was only going easy on you- I- What enchantment do you have on your sword? You have creative mode don’t you? Yeah, you have creative mode... there’s just no way-”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your laughs as the blood god ran over to pick up his items with a red face

“Hey! Hey don’t laugh! This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“It- it kind of is.” you said shyly, putting away your sword and eating some steak to regain the health you lost, “If it makes you feel better, I had one heart...”

“oNe hEaRt! She had one heart chat! What is this-”

His words had you rolling on the floor, wiping your eyes of the tears falling from your at how hard you were laughing

“What- What do I have to do for you to keep this between us-” he whispered after you calmed, looking around the the space, making sure it was just you and him

You shrugged, “Nothing really- I- uh, i didn’t mean to kill you... I’m sorry-”

Sorry? Who the fuck says sorry for killing someone

Who says sorry for killing him?

If anything you should be gloating, getting a billbourd and displaying the chat message for everyone to see

He’s never been gladder that nobody else was connected to the chat at the time

“I was going easy on you.”

“I- sure, sure okay...” you thought about it for a second, “If so... then why don’t you teach me the things you didn’t try? Like techniques and stuff...”

He froze at your suggestion, “You want- you want to learn from me?”

“Yeah!” you beamed, “You were... a big inspiration for me growing up and, I would love to learn from the source and not just through tails and stories.”

He thought about it for a bit, usually he would rely on his voices but they were all just insulting him

He didn’t see the harm in it, out of all the children on the SMP, he tolerated you the most

That and you had potential, it was rare to find someone with such skills and who acted humble with them

He sighed, patting the top of your head with a huff, “Sure... Sure why not.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah sure, I mean what’s the harm in it right?” he ruffled your hair

The action made your eyebrows rise and when you looked back up at the piglin hybrid, all you saw was the smile of your brother looking down at you

“Hey, everything alright?” he questioned, noticing your sudden glossy eyes

You quickly rubbed them with your knuckles, “Yeah, yeah I- I just forgot something at Pogtopia,” you said, backing away with an embarrassed smile, “I’ll meet you back there,”

“Sure, sure... I’ll just continue hunting,”

As you ran away he let out a deep breath, taking out swords and looking down at it with a scoff

“Chat... we never speak of this... again.”

After that, the both of you were inseparable 

Going on adventures with each other, looting and exploring together

Where ever he went, you followed in his footsteps as he taught you about whatever he could

He even took you to his secret base and allowed you to help him in gathering supplies to help the fight

“What’s with the pig by the way?”

“It’s my emotional support pig.”

“And his name is bladey?”

“...”

“It’s a short for bladder...now what were you saying about poisoned arrows?”

And while you appreciated the action, your favourite times where the calm ones

When he would take you up to a hight tower or hill so the both of your could relax, maybe eat some mushroom stew as he told you stories of his own adventures 

You opened up to him as well, telling him about your family and your village, how you were travelling around with so sense of direction

It was strange how easily he trusted you, maybe it was because you had similar experiences as him

You understood him and he understood you

You also began to make good friends with the rest of Pogtopia along with everyone else who started to betray shlatt and join there side, becoming more open with the reassurance from Techno that they weren’t bad people

You fit in well, a lot more that he did

You had potential for a bloodless life, he saw that

He didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as him, he didn’t want you to live the same isolated life

And while you agreed with his thoughts on anarchy, he didn’t want to you to have any part in what he was doing.

So when L’Manburg was taken back and Tubbo was but in power, he felt a sense of dread opening his enderchest and taking out his six wither skulls

Don’t let the wither’s hurt them

You’re going to hurt them more that they are

You won’t be able to protect

Protect them at all costs

It wasn’t just the voices that felt the urge to keep you safe

Over the months he’s grown a liking to you, treating you like his own student and teaching you the things he wish he knew at your age

But he could also be the one to corrupt you.

And he didn’t have the heart to find out which way it would go

You caught sight of the skulls in his hands before he switched to his sword, a hard look on his face as everyone began fighting each other

“Techno?” you walked up to him, “Are you-”

“Yeah... yeah I am.” he puffed out his chest, pulling you the side, “Look, things are about to get messy and when they do I want you to run-”

You knew where this was going, flashbacks of your brother fighting one of the pillagers to save you as you ran away to safe yourself, sacrificing himself for you

“No.” you cut him off before he could continue.

While you knew Techno was going to come out of this alive, you had the power to help him now, to help everyone, you didn’t need to run anymore

You considered Techno family now, well the closest thing you had to it and you weren't about to loose that

Not again.

“I’m staying with you Tech,”

He shook his head, “If you do, L’manburg would never look at you the same, you’ll be an outcast once again-”

“Then do what you have to do, but I’m not running away. What happens here is because of everyone’s belief and I believe in safety and protection so that is what I’ll provide.” you took out your sword smirking, “Plus, we all know what happened last time when you tried to fight me,”

“I thought you promised to never speak of this again!”

“I’m sorry I had to-”

“Okay kid, okay...” he took a deep breath, “Just stay clear of dream and his crew... and the withers... Actually? here take some golden apples-”

“Just go be an anarchist Techno,” you pushed him forwards, rolling your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, take this God apple and a few more potions-”

“I already have some-”

“Well take more. And some extra armor... just in case-” he threw the items at you before running away and setting up the soul sand, not wanting anyone to catch on to what he was doing

And with one final look around following the conclusion of his speech, he placed the skulls, unleashing ultimate chaos on the land once called L’manburg

...

Sorry this took so long! I always get ahead of myself with requests and end up writing a lot more that planned but i hope you enjoyed! I was making this so long that I had to spit this into part two, maybe part three to cover the rest of the lore and to be able to develop more on their relationship besides backstory

That and i really want to write the execution scene but this was already 4k words... 

Feedback always appreciated🥰

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 1

Chapter One

Change of Plans

—————

"Marinette, we need to talk..." Tikki trailed her words while glancing at the other Kwamis behind the girl.

They were out of the box, but instead of wreaking havoc inside the room, they were observing the young Guardian who's currently curled into a fetal position on top of her chaise. The Kwamis had a glance at her appearance at the moment, and they were more worried for her.

Marinette was tired. She was tired of everything.

Her issue with a liar in school, her current stand with her class, how the adults in school ignore the problem, and last night, Chat Noir ticked her. They were battling a late-night Akuma. He was not only late, but he also whined about Ladybug not doing her best. Instead of helping her, he gave her an ultimatum that if she doesn't confess her feelings for him, he'll not come to any Akuma battles or she confess and stop being stubborn. With that statement, she felt anger run through her veins and gave her more drive. She successfully defeated the Akuma all on her own. She tried to help the victim to their home, but the victim politely refused, after that, she rushed home, not looking back.

"What do we need to talk about, Tikki?" She replied still not looking at the ladybug kwami.

"About the miraculous holders and your situation at school."

Marinette sighed before sitting up and looking straight at the kwami. Due to her added responsibility, she had been on edge at school, and especially since the class is against her, she didn't care about them anymore. She dismissed and permanently retired the temporary heroes, and used the excuse of 'they already got exposed'.

"We agree about removing the other heroes, since you'll need to trust them, and that's currently a problem, but there's one more holder we refuse to see using a miraculous."

Marinette's brow shot up in confusion, "Who?"

"Chat Noir."

That made Marinette freeze. She knows where the conversation is leading.

"Plagg talked to me, he really liked his current holder, but it was getting annoying for him. He wants a new one, or you can use him temporarily for battle." Tikki explained.

Marinette thought about it for a while. Tikki was right. A lot has changed in Chat Noir's attitude, he became more pushy and annoying, and the people of Paris have been noticing his behaviour, some were disappointed, while others are reprimanding her for not returning the 'poor Chat's feelings'.

"Alright... We'll do it tonight."

The kwamis sighed in relief. That was one problem solved.

"Now the other problem... We think it might be best for you to be in a different environment."

"You mean, I should... transfer?"

Tikki nodded and when Marinette looked at the other kwamis they also nodded eagerly, and it made Marinette sighed.

Collège Françoise Dupont has been her school for a long time, even when Chloé was the one bullying her, she didn't consider transferring. Aside from the fact that her home is only across the street, she knew almost everyone in the school. But now... a lot has changed. She wondered how did Mlle Bustier and M. Damocles believe an Italian exchange student instead of investigating? Dupont changed drastically after the liar joined. Marinette doesn't recognize it anymore.

"I... I'll talk to Maman and Papa about it. Now, how am I going to claim the Black Cat Miraculous if I don't even know his identity?"

"I'll help you!"

Wayzz offered. It was only a small favour for him. After Tikki revealed to them their Guardian's current situation, all the kwamis were angry. They were also aware of Plagg's current holder, and they knew that both the Yin and Yang miraculous is currently unbalance.

The Yin and Yang Miraculous, which are the ladybug and black cat miraculous, are the most important miraculous in the Chinese Miracle Box. If the two miraculous are combined, the holder will be granted a wish, and that wish can even bend reality, however, every wish has its price.

And currently, all the kwamis feel the unbalance between the two miraculous. And it's all because of the blonde's promise.

'As long as you and I both know the truth' 

That was his words. But Adrien became blind to the fact that their classmates have been bullying her without concrete proof that she was the bully. He abandoned her when she needed someone, and didn't even apologize for leaving her, instead, he reprimands her for going against the 'high road' path.

There are going to be a lot of changes during the next few days.

—————

"Maman? Papa? Can we talk?"

Sabine and Tom who were busy preparing dinner turned their heads towards their daughter's faint voice. Sabine made her way towards Marinette and guided her to their living room and sat down.

"Is there something wrong, Marinette?"

Marinette gulped before looking straight into her mother's eyes.

She admitted everything. About the liar, how her so-called 'friends' abandoned her, how someone wants her to bend her morals and let the vixen fool their classmates, how her own teacher and principal lost their brain, how she was being bullied, how she was almost akumatized countless of times at school and their home, she breaks down.

Sabine was stunned. She didn't even notice how her own daughter has been suffering in that place. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to lash out, but she didn't want Shadowmoth to take over her emotions. Looking at her daughter who was now crying in her Father's arms, broke her heart.

She stood up, grabbed a tray and gathered food on it.

"Here, why don't you eat in your room for now... Your Father and I will talk about your transfer since I will not let you step a foot in that school anymore."

Marinette nodded and took the tray before heading to her room.

Sabine and Tom did work while they were eating dinner, they have founded a school that will suit their daughter.

Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie

A private school that is more expensive than Dupont, but they also grant scholarships. The school offered courses that will help the student's talents blossom. And both of Marinette's parents believe in their daughter's talent in designing, she could get a scholarship, and if that doesn't work out, they'll just have to work harder for her tuition.

The school offers a dormitory to all the students.

Marinette's home was a bit further from that school, that is why Dupont became an advantage to them since it is a street away from the bakery.

"Are we going to let her move to a dorm? Or she'll just be commuting?" Tom asked, worried about her daughter going to school late every time.

"We'll be talking to her about this, and if she wants to, I think it might be better. She'll be far away from Dupont, and the dorm building will only allow parents and listed guests to enter." Sabine said.

Marinette was a sixteen-year-old girl, but they are more worried about her mental health. If she was constantly near her old classmates, she might not feel safe. Sabine was hoping that Marinette will agree to move into a dorm. Sure, she'll miss her all the time in their home, but her daughter's health is much more important.

The next morning came, Sabine called the principal early morning, and informed that Marinette will not be going to class for a week due to personal matters. Which the man agreed immediately after hearing the woman's sharp tone.

When Sabine saw Marinette walked down from her room, she took a good look at her daughter. She was becoming thinner, she had bags under her eyes, and she can feel a looming aura around her.

"Morning, Maman..."

"Come, eat breakfast. I already called your school that you'll be absent for a week, while you rest and we prepare for your transfer."

Marinette nodded and gave her mother a genuine smile. Something she hasn't done for a while.

"Marinette. We found you a school that will suit you, it can help with your career. Now we want your input, they offer a campus dorm, me and your father, thought that it's much better if you get a dorm so that you'll be far away from Dupont."

The girl was stunned. She couldn't imagine waking up all alone, without her parents near her. She wanted to go against it, but she thought about it.

Far away from Dupont. She could gain more privacy, she'll be able to move freely especially when there's an Akuma. Especially now that she's all alone.

Last night, she reclaimed the black cat miraculous. Marinette was hurt that her partner was the boy who hurt her the most. Adrien Agreste. She was angry that the blonde couldn't be a hero without a mask. But she needed a new partner, someone she could trust and will always back her up.

"Don't worry, the dorm building is strict only parents and listed guests are allowed to enter," Sabine added after noticing how quiet her daughter was.

"Can I think about it until dinner?"

Sabine nodded and bid goodbye since she needs to work in the bakery now.

After finishing breakfast, she went upstairs to her room with a tray of foods that all the kwamis like. The Kwamis noticed that the girl was silent, but they didn't ask. Plagg who was silently observing while eating a cheese danish finally went up to her.

"You okay, kid?" Plagg asked.

Marinette looked at the cat kwami who had a reputation of being stubborn, it made her smile a bit.

"Maman said I'm officially being transferred to a new school. Maman also recommended that I stay in a dorm inside the school campus, for me to be away from Dupont."

"Isn't that good Marinette? You'll get more privacy without worrying about someone barging inside here or someone seeing you go inside while you're in the suit." Tikki said.

Marinette only sighed and calmed herself. She could only hope that Shadowmoth won't be sending an Akuma or an Amok today.

—————

"Guys! Did you hear?!"

Three pairs of eyes landed on the person who came in while shouting inside their dorm.

"What is it?"

"There are rumours that someone applied to be transferred here in Jeanne! We might get a new student and possibly a new dormmate!"

The three looked at each other and glanced at a closed door while thinking about the newcomer's words.

Meanwhile, back at Marinette's home.

Her parents informed her about her possible scholarship and the requirements— which was easy for her since she is applying for a fashion scholarship, she will need to pass a portfolio of her designs. She also let her parents know about her decision about the dorm. And her parents agreed to it.

For the first time in a while, Marinette had a fun time. She ignores the constant notifications on her cellphone, she dedicated the day to relax, something she hasn't done for a while.

It was a blessing in disguise that transferring out of Dupont will be easy, her mother will only need to get her student files then leave.

Ever since the bullying started, she slowly removes her belongings in her locker to avoid any rumours about stealing... again. Looking around her room, It felt bare to her. She took down all of Adrien's photos and class photos from her walls and burned them. Impulsive? Yes. Worth it? Definitely!

The gifts she had created for Adrien were getting donated. She was slowly removing any reminders about her life in Dupont.

She had to admit, she thanked Lila for letting her see her classmates' true colours. She wasn't a friend, she was a tool. She now realizes how her class uses her for free things, how Alya just dumps the babysitting on her without even getting paid, how her teacher kept moulding her to be a perfect student. She hated it. She was used. And now that she isn't 'useful' they abandon her.

She was currently preparing her portfolio, and even asked her clients if she can have permission to use the commissions she has made to be used in her portfolio, to which they happily agreed!

Three days have passed, she had successfully applied for a scholarship, her mother has retrieved her school files, no Akumas or Amoks attacking the city.

"You seem quite happy, bǎobǎo!" Sabine was glad that Marinette is slowly becoming happy once again.

Marinette deserved to be happy. Her parents will do anything to keep it that way.

"Have you started packing your things? You do know that even if the scholarship is rejected, we'll still enroll you, right?"

"Yes, Maman. Thank you. I know it is expensive, but I still want to thank you guys for the opportunity!"

Marinette hugged her mother and smile contentedly. She was happy. She was finally happy... for now.

While waiting for a response in her scholarship application, she was currently brainstorming with Tikki about her suit.

"You want to change it?" Tikki asks.

"Yeah. Like a reminder that I am beginning a new chapter, and leaving everything behind."

Tikki smiled and happily agreed with her holder. All the kwamis are out, but Plagg and Tikki were constantly out of the box.

Marinette wears both the miraculous, at first she was scared that it might trigger the ultimate power, but nothing happened, so she assumed that it will only happen if both are unified. She had also gained the Grimoire and missing tablet!

When Wayzz retrieved the Cat Miraculous, he had noticed his previous Master's tablet and the Grimoire in Adrien Agreste's desk, he informed Ladybug and she immediately went to his room quietly. She didn't even want to think why he suddenly has it. Returning to her room, she had successfully got three important things.

Master Fu's missing tablet where a translated Grimoire is stored.

The original Grimoire.

And finally, the Cat Miraculous.

It was more than what she had bargained. But she was lucky. Really lucky!

'Looks like lady luck finally gave me a good amount of luck!'

 Chapter 1 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 2

[zeta-in-de-walls]

What's the most common misconception you hear about c!tommy?

Hey! Really interesting question, cheers. I’d say that there’s quite a few misconceptions floating around: that he never apologises, that he hasn’t developed, that his exile was his fault, that he’s the main source of conflict on the server, that all he does is steal, and plenty of other stuff.

But the one I probably hear most is how Tommy supposedly values music discs over people.

This one is such a mess of misconceptions. I’ve even heard it said that Doomsday happened because Tommy cared about his discs too much and he was wrong because you shouldn’t value items over human lives. I hate this one because it misunderstands Tommy enough so you can dismiss him because its such a weak position. 

Anyway, I understand why its so messy. Tommy throughout season 2 is frequently in a state of uncertainty and is being driven by emotions and isn’t thinking clearly after so much suffering. He says a lot of stuff he doesn’t mean and is very suggestible. Most of his talking about the discs is done when he’s lonely and thinks his friends don’t care for him anymore, that they’re better off without him.

Now, let’s be clear: music discs are something Tommy’s character loves. His happiness every time he listens to one feels very genuine. He’s had so many emotional moments listening to his discs with others and even considers his bench his happy space. He likes them and invites others to listen with him. These items hold no intrinsic value, they’re of no worth to anyone else besides how much they mean to Tommy. The only reason to take them is to try to control him specifically. That’s the original reason Dream took them in the original disc war - to punish Tommy after he caused some trouble. 

And the original disc war was fun for Tommy. He found the battle to be exciting and enjoyed trying to outplay Dream with his best friend Tubbo and anyone he could get on his side. It was like a fun game to him. One that, while chaotic, no one really got hurt from at all - the only one who really suffered was Tommy himself, who put stuff on the line for it and had his whole base dug up. (And Tubbo who got dragged in and lost items, but he was initially a very willing partner who found the conflict fun too.) 

And then we have Dream, who traded away L’Manburg’s independence for Tommy’s discs, an interesting decision which meant only Tommy really paid the price that day. Everyone remarked on how unusually selfless it was of Tommy. That day was a victory for everyone else, but bittersweet for him. Wilbur consoled him, saying they could get them back and then they’d have even more history and sentimental value attached to them, having been what paid for L’Manburg’s freedom. Tommy was encouraged and so the game continued.

Dream over this time became not just Tommy’s enemy, but his friend. They had fights and conflicts but it was more like a fun game. As they also did stuff like make a church together. Eventually Tommy managed to steal Mellohi back from Dream while Skeppy acquired Cat. At the elections, Tommy gives Mellohi to Wilbur who gives it back again when they’re banished. Months pass and they finally win back L’Manberg and its a wonderful day (until it goes wrong) but Tommy’s not done with his disc war. 

This disc war was always a personal thing for Tommy, he’s never wanted others to be dragged in and hurt by it. He kind of takes Tubbo for granted, but Tubbo’s also always been his partner in crime and Tommy enjoys having a war he can fight alongside his best friend - he and Tubbo against Dream. Dream at this point is still seen as a friendly enemy, in spite of choosing Schlatt and helping Wilbur blow up L’Manberg. Anyway, he rejects Presidency, giving it to Wilbur because he trusts him and also wants to focus on his personal battles after so long ignoring it. He doesn’t want others to be dragged in or for his interests to be divided. He’s leaving L’Manburg in safe hands he can trust. That’s season 1 of the SMP, but season 2 is where things get messier.

After the war, Tommy hears that Tubbo had been suspicious that Tommy might’ve been the traitor. In order to show that he trusts him, Tommy gives Tubbo Mellohi. It’s not just a disc now, its a sign of trust, a sign of their bond - at least in Tommy’s eyes.

Then Dream builds obsidian walls around L’Manburg and we first see Tommy showing that bit of selfishness. He states that he’d wanted to step away, that L’Manburg wasn’t his priority anymore. That he’d left it in safe hands so he could focus on the discs. But it doesn’t matter what Tommy intended. Dream is targeting him and is dragging the rest of L’Manburg into it by threatening to seal them in obsidian forever if they don’t comply. Tommy and Tubbo do have a disagreement here, but its not actually so much about the discs. 

-Tommy believes that fighting Dream is the superior option, if they ask for help from others in the server - because what he’s doing isn’t right - then they could defeat him, show him that he couldn’t just push them around. 

-Tubbo feels like that would get them killed and he doesn’t want to risk their lives. It would be better to appease Dream for now and secretly plot how to take him down later but Tommy’s being too hotheaded. 

Tommy brings up the disc to state how he trusts Tubbo and would consider being exiled a betrayal but Tubbo reminds him that they’re just discs and there’s more on the line and Tommy needs to be more cooperative. Anyway, Tommy’s hurt by Tubbo exiling him and think its a sign that he doesn’t care about him anymore. Tubbo meanwhile found it difficult to do but felt like there was no other option but did still care about Tommy. Tubbo would later come to regret doing it while Tommy would later say that it was the right choice when they finally actually talk. 

The discs here are kind of a symbol but Tommy doesn’t really value them over others, he’s being a little selfish for sure but that is mostly a result of being treated unfairly by Dream and feeling attacked and ganged up on by his friends, not seeing how they were trying to help him. Dream’s the one to blame here. At worst, Tommy’s being irresponsible in thinking he can just step away from L’Manburg - he didn’t value the discs over it, he just wanted to fight a personal battle without L’Manburg being involved for once. But too many things do matter to him and Dream realised he could attack Tommy through his friends. Its also why Tommy says he didn’t want Tubbo to be President, because he wanted him to be free to help him in his personal war too. There were some issues in their friendship that for sure got exploited and blown out of proportion.

So post-exile. Tommy is rather confused. He’s decided he doesn’t want to die and that Dream wasn’t really his friend, but he still feels abandoned by all his other friends. He still believes they didn’t really care about him after his failed beach party and everything else. And his feelings on Dream are mixed because he knows logically he should hate him but emotionally he still feels like he’s his friend.

Tommy at this point, begins clinging to the discs as some sort of tangible goal while feeling so lonely and abandoned. He has no real sense of agency and really wants Technoblade to give him guidance. Technoblade however wants to destroy L’Manburg and reaffirms his thoughts that Tubbo doesnt really care about him. Tommy is still...kinda(?) clear that he doesn’t want L’Manburg to be destroyed but is willing to compromise on minor terrorism. His remaining belief in L’Manburg is being eroded. You can see in his trips into L’Manburg he is rather unaware of the extent of his actions. He’s suffered and now feels right in lashing out. It seems to be the start of a villain arc even. Right at this point, the discs make more sense than people so they are his goal. And yet even in the midst of his uncertainty, he says the one Tubbo has is safe, he wants to get the one Dream has. 

The discs are Tommy’s way of saying he wants to fight Dream. It’s not really about the discs anymore, Dream went way too far with the exile and now Tommy wants to stop him and find it easiest to frame it as going after his music disc.

Then the festival. Tommy finally confronts Tubbo and sees him about to give his disc to Dream. It’s his worst fears confirmed, that Tubbo doesn’t really care about him and that he’s on Dream’s side. They fight and Tommy finally says the line ‘the discs were worth more than you ever were!’

And he regrets it immediately. The statement rang false. They were just discs and Tubbo was his best friend. He immediately tells Tubbo to give up the disc and changes sides then and there. The discs were not more important than people. He was being selfish. And he also remembered how much he cared about L’Manburg and didn’t want it to be blown up no matter what he’d agreed to the day before. He wants to fight for it, choosing his friends once and for all. 

In his argument with Techno on Doomsday, he does bring up his discs and words it kind of awkwardly. He tries to explain that ‘nothing had been taken from you, while the discs were stolen from me’ Tommy believes that Techno is destroying something people loved when he could’ve just walked away, he wasn’t fighting for something he loved like Tommy in his wars. That’s what he’s trying to get at, not that music discs are more important than people. Tommy doesn’t actually believe that and prefers wars that don’t hurt others, as the disc wars was once supposed to be before Dream brought in everyone else. Even saying that, Tommy admits he’d messed up so many times in chasing the discs. That he was wrong.

Tommy talks about going after the discs again but at this point it really means taking down Dream. Dream had expressed that he would not stop, he enjoyed their ‘game’ too much. Tommy has nothing left to lose as far as he’s concerned and needs to take down Dream for everything he’d done. 

During the disc saga finale, again Tommy always chooses Tubbo first. There’s this one moment where he has Mellohi and could run away forever but he stops and gives it up along with all their items before their taken to the vault and almost forced to watch Tubbo die while he gets thrown in prison forever. But he chooses Tubbo. He always does. 

Okay, summary over. I hope that better explains why I dislike the misconception that Tommy chooses his discs over people. He doesn’t really. It’s used to discredit him way too much, I feel. It’s only at his lowest, after being tormented in exile that he even gets close to that position and that’s when he’s on the bring of choosing a dark path and becoming what he hates. At the festival, he rejects that path.

Now that he has his discs, he hasn’t started trouble with them once. They’re safe and he can bring them out to listen to when he’s feeling low, not hurting anyone. They’re just something he loves and its okay to have attachments. 

[snowywrites]

Doki Doki Literature Club Girls x Reader

summary: you spend the day at the amusement park with the rest of the Literature Club! (it's recommended to read these together in order because they are connected, but if you prefer then you can read just whichever one you want to. Reader is intended to be female.)

full word count: 7.7k

Sayori

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in town. The sun was shining high overhead in the pale blue sky, but the fluffy white clouds drifting by here and there were enough to ensure that it wasn't too hot. There also happened to be a nice, soothing breeze out, you note to yourself as you gaze out your open window to the neighborhood. A perfectly lovely day.

Well. That was enough of that, you muse to yourself as you slide your window closed again and pull the curtains in front of it to avoid any of the cheery sunshine washing into your room- it created an awful glare off of your computer screen which made it hard to watch your anime.

Content with your decision to stay inside today and catch up on your favorite shows, you walk over to sit down at your desk and turn on your computer. That's as far as you get before the doorbell rings, however.

You ignore it for now, assuming someone else in the house will go answer it. Then you suppress a groan of frustration when you recall that you're home alone for the better part of the day, a big reason why you had set the date aside to stay indoors and enjoy some peace, quiet, relaxation, and anime.

The doorbell rings again and again, much more insistent now; it almost could be playing a song of some kind. "I'm coming!" You call as if the visitor can hear you, grudgingly hopping up and hurrying downstairs. The doorbell just keeps ringing, and you don't even check the peephole to see who it is before you open up because the sound is really starting to grate on your nerves and you just need it to stop as soon as possible.

Your neighbor and somewhat-best-friend Sayori is standing there, and she looks a little shocked to see you, despite this being your house. She slowly presses the doorbell one last time, and you resist the urge to sigh heavily.

"Hi, Sayori. What's up?" You question. It's been a minute since you two have visited outside of the Literature Club, so you're making an effort not to act as annoyed as you feel for being so rudely disrupted. She could have at least texted a message saying she was going to be dropping by- then again, this was Sayori. Odds were, she had been walking by heading to the store or something and spotted your home, causing her to make the impulsive decision to bug you.

Her eyes brighten and a wide smile replaces her startled expression. "Hey, Y/N! It's Saturday!"

You stare at her for a moment. "Uhm...yeah, it is." You aren't entirely sure what she's expecting from you- maybe an invitation to come inside? Sayori's sort of a pain to watch movies or shows with, though. She's such a chatterbox and can't really focus on one thing for long at all, so whenever she does tune back in, she's got a million dumb questions that she'd know the answer to if only she'd bothered to pay attention. Nonetheless, you offer, "Did you wanna hang out? I was about to watch some anime, and you can join me, if you'd like."

Your words don't seem to come as any shock to Sayori, and she shakes her head firmly. "Y/N! I figured you were shutting yourself up in here. It's seriously a nice day, let's get out and have some fun!"

So much for compromising! And you'd even been trying to be nice, sheesh. "But I-" You frowned, trying to come up with an excuse for why you couldn't go out today, eventually settling on the truth since it was easiest. "I was just looking forward to some downtime, maybe next time though, okay?"

Instantly Sayori is pouting, acting like the exact same little kid you first met years ago rather than the almost-adult she was. "We've had this talk before, I don't want you becoming a total NEET! You can watch your shows tomorrow, but we really should enjoy this day, I bet it's gonna rain tomorrow! I mean, the rain is fun too, but-"

You're visibly defeated. "Okay, okay, lemme just grab some money. What'd you have in mind?"

Instead of calming down now that she's gotten her way, Sayori gives an excited little bounce, clapping her hands together. "Thanks, Y/N!" She grins at you, radiating warmth and energy. "I was thinking the amusement park!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The amusement park was in town for another few days, and you had yet to go to it, but you doubted you were missing out on much. It was crowded with people, as expected, and you recognized a lot of other people from your school even in their casual clothes. It made you absently wonder if any of the other girls in the Literature Club were here today...

"Hey, did you hear me?"

Sayori's voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over at her. "Oh, sorry. What'd you say?"

She doesn't seem upset in the slightest. "I said, we have to go on the roller coaster!" She points excitedly across the park where you can see the top of the coaster. A lot of screams and a long line are in that direction, and you do your best not to look nervous.

"R-Roller coaster? Isn't there anything else you want to do first?" Trust Sayori to immediately pick the biggest attraction in the place. You're a tad surprised she isn't already hungry, to be honest, though you two did just enter the park.

"Coaster first!" Insists your best friend, taking your hand and beginning to drag you off towards the ride in spite of your clear hesitance. "And then probably food! I'd hate to get sick, you know?"

You can't help but smile. It was likely the most responsible thing you'd ever heard Sayori say, and one which you were grateful for considering you two would obviously be sitting next to each other. It helps you to relax a little bit too, but as you join the line with her, you can feel your anxiety starting to mount yet again the closer and closer you get.

Sayori is chattering away, but you're trying to block her out because she's babbling about all sorts of things. You wonder suddenly if she's trying to distract you...but quickly brush that assumption away. It would be nice, but Sayori just tended to talk a lot all the time, this wasn't new.

After what feels like much too short of a time, it's your turn to ride the roller coaster. Fear grips you, much as you don't want to admit it. You shoot a panicked glance at Sayori, who was humming cheerfully to herself. She meets your gaze, and her hum falters, tapering off. She gives you a reassuring and oddly quiet smile, taking your hand. It's different than before, when she'd been pulling you through the park. This time, her grip is steady but not demanding, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to do so. It's also possibly the only time you can recall ever seeing your best friend look so...shy.

It's more comforting than anything she could've said, and you give her hand a squeeze to thank her. The two of you enter the roller coaster in seats next to each other, and a worker comes along to help the two of you strap in properly. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, and you're assuming it's just because of the roller coaster adrenaline, nothing more.

The ride starts and you close your eyes shut tight, keeping a death grip on Sayori now; you can hear her breathless and excited laughter even through the sounds of the other riders screaming and whooping. Many twists and turns, sometimes slow and sometimes fast yet always nerve-wracking, and a particularly terrifying drop-off later, and the ride is over.

You blink open your eyes, stunned to realize you're still in once piece, and leap out of the coaster as soon as possible, tearing your hand out of Sayori's. She doesn't seem all that worried about it, fortunately. She climbs out onto the solid and safe ground next to you, and you bite back a giggle. Her hair is so crazy and windswept and sticking out in all directions from the ride, but then you figure yours probably is too, and self-consciously try to pat it down.

Unlike you, Sayori doesn't appear concerned with her appearance, her cheeks flushed with delight and invigoration, not embarrassment. "That was so much fun!" She cheers, spinning around you as if she still had too much energy to contain. Then she paused, practically glowing as she looked at you and you only had a heartbeat to notice that she was very close in your personal space. "Thank you so much for coming with me, Y/N."

It was such a genuine and vulnerable statement that you were briefly at a loss for words, trying to read the uncharacteristically intense emotions shining in your friend's blue eyes. "I- it was, sure, it was a lot of fun, Sayori..." You trail off awkwardly, stepping back a pace to escape the close proximity.

Sayori opens her mouth to say something else, but a gasp comes out first as her attention fixes on something behind you. "Can you buy me some pizza? Pleeeeaaaaseeeee? Pretty please?! I'm really hungry now!"

The moment is over with that, and you wince at her childish request. "Pizza sounds good," you relent, causing Sayori to squeal with excitement and rush off to the food stand. You're giving in a lot today, and you aren't sure why, honestly. It wasn't like this was more fun than staying home and watching your favorite shows, right? Although, you did enjoy Sayori's company. There was a reason she was your kind-of-best-friend after all.

Oh, well. You can think about it later. For now you might as well try to have a nice time while you were still here. You follow after your puppy-like friend, spotting her at one of the tables just outside of the food stand talking with someone sitting there. With a start, you recognize the violet long hair of your fellow clubmate, Yuri.

Approaching, you start to greet them, but Sayori interrupts you before you can. "Yeah, Y/N/'s here too!" She pointed at you brightly, and Yuri tenses up, looking up at you like a deer in the headlights, which confuses you. Yuri had seemed perfectly calm before now- sure, a little shy, but now she was the stuttering and nervous girl that you were most familiar with from the Literature Club.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Yuri

You smile, giving a tiny wave. "Hey there, Yuri." Of all the people you might have expected to see here at the amusement park, Yuri was perhaps at the bottom of the list. You would have assumed she would be like you on a Saturday, preferring to stay at home. Except she would be reading novels or writing most likely, not watching anime or reading manga.

You're partly right, because on the table in front of Yuri is an open book instead of anything to eat. How she was able to focus with all the conversation of groups of people swarming around, you had no idea.

"Y/N," whined Sayori after Yuri just gave you a slight nod of greeting, "My pizzaaaaa, please?"

You laugh, waving her away. "I'm going, I'm going, hush! Yuri, did you want anything?" You offered politely.

Your clubmate seems to shrink in on herself, allowing her long dark hair to fall so that it hid her face from your view a bit. "Ah-! Uhm, that's okay, thank you, though." Sometimes you weren't sure how she could write just long and beautifully-worded poems when she seemed to struggle so much with the simplest of phrases spoken outloud.

You accept this and go to buy yourself and Sayori a slice of pizza each, and end up buying Yuri a sweet tea too just because, well, you would feel weird and rude to eat in front of someone else if they didn't have anything. You make your way back over to the table where Sayori is talking to Yuri, her arms flailing around in wild gestures, and you get the suspicion that she's telling Yuri all about the roller coaster ride. Quick to intervene, you set the tray with the food and drinks down on the table, leaning towards Sayori threateningly. "What exactly are you talking about?" You inquire sharply, eyes narrowed.

Sheepishly, Sayori swipes one of the plates with pizza on it to take a bite and shrug, using the food as an excuse not to reply.

Huffing, you distribute the stuff you bought between the three of you, turning to Yuri to protect your reputation. "For the record, I was totally not scared," you promised her.

Yuri is slightly more comfortable now, you think, and there's a tiny glimmer of faint amusement and sympathy in her violet eyes. "I believe you," she murmurs back, so quietly that you almost were unable to catch that. She blinks at the drink that you placed in front of her, apparently having to take a second to process what it meant. And then, completely the opposite of Sayori, her head snapped towards you and her gaze was now wide. "Oh-! You- thank you, Y/N, but- you really, didn't have to, go through the trouble...!"

You tuck into your meal, taking your time in replying while Sayori scarfs down her own food, curiously glancing between you and Yuri as if studying the interaction. "It's no worries," you say after a short while. "I would've felt bad otherwise since me and Sayori have something." You turn your attention to the forgotten book in front of Yuri. "Sorry if we bothered you, by the way! We didn't mean to interrupt your reading or anything."

Sayori bobbed her head in an enthusiastic agreement since her mouth was full and she couldn't say anything.

Once again, you worried that you'd said the wrong thing because Yuri's reaction was much the same as the last time you'd said anything. "That's- that's okay, really! It wasn't, important, and I was..." She seems to give up, seeming helpless and frustrated with herself, only able to take a sip of her drink in defeat.

Sayori finished with her food, standing up abruptly. "Thanks, Y/N!" She chirps, apparently not effected by your and Yuri's awkwardness. "I'm gonna go check out some other stuff, so you should have fun with Yuri!"

Her words catch you off guard, and before you can react or suggest the three of you find something to do together, Sayori is already racing off somewhere, waving over her shoulder at the two of you. You watch as she slams into someone as she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going, and shake your head as she profusely apologizes to them. "Oh, Sayori," you sigh a little dramatically to Yuri. "What are we gonna do with her?"

The other girl bites her lip like she's trying to hold back a laugh. "It's nice that you look after her," she speaks up quietly.

"Ah- I mean, somebody has to, right?" You chuckle to yourself as you resume eating.

Yuri is fine with silence, which doesn't really surprise you. She opens her book back up and starts to read after a minute or two, and you're content too to just finish up your pizza and do some people-watching.

Eventually when you do finish, you throw away your trash and then rejoin Yuri, who's politely closing her book again and standing up as well. She's calmer now, as if reading and not having to engage in conversation for a little bit has recharged her, which you're happy for. "Uhm..." She begins timidly. "Would you like to walk around the park with me?"

You aren't used to Yuri initiating anything at all, and in the space of your bewilderment, she hurriedly continues, "It's okay if you'd rather not-! I only thought..it might be fun, but I understand if..." The last part is more of a mumble.

"Sure, Yuri, I'd love to!" You try to reassure her as smoothly and swiftly as you can in order to avoid hurting her feelings any further or even risking her fleeing. Yuri was such a sweet person, and you'd never want to say no to her and have to see her awfully sad expression, you reflect. "We can head...that way." You pick a random direction and start walking, Yuri following you meekly. She walks near you, but also just a step or two behind, and when you try to slow down so you guys can actually walk together, she stops altogether. Deciding you can't do anything about it for now, you continue the trek, absently looking around at the various stands, games, and rides as you pass them. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here, to be honest," you comment.

Yuri's silent for a beat, causing you to wonder if she was even going to say anything back to that. She finally does, thankfully. "Admittedly, this isn't the sort of place I might usually spend a weekend at." Her words are low and carefully-chosen as usual, like she's cursed to overthink even the barest minimum of small talk. "But my parents insisted I come here."

An amused smile quirks up your lips as you glance back at her. "So you brought a book instead of arguing with them?" You deduct. "Clever. I would've brought a manga or something, but Sayori was impatient to get here. She's always trying to drag me out my house and make me socialize. Take the Literature Club, for example."

Yuri gives you a tiny nod. "It's kind of them to care about us," she says. "I do sometimes wish they could understand me better, though."

"I get that," you agree. "Even if they're a pain sometimes, you love them anyway."

Yuri evidently agrees, but something causes her to stop walking. You pause too, going back to join her. Her attention is on an attraction nearby, a 'haunted house' sort of place. She doesn't look like she had any idea it was here, and you recognize interest and anticipation on her face, which makes you happy- you might be getting a little bit better at reading Yuri, the more time you spend with her.

She reluctantly focuses back on you, and you sense she's about to apologize and continue walking, so you speak before she gets the chance. "We can go check it out, if you want?"

Your clubmate lights up for a moment before wincing. "We don't have to, if you wouldn't like it," is her answer. It's honestly not annoying, mainly because Yuri makes indecisiveness, shyness, and doormat-ness look really, really cute.

"It might be fun," you laugh, guiding her across to the entrance. It looks pretty stereotypical, and you recall going to one of these kinds of places with Sayori one year for Halloween when you were much, much younger, probably like 11 or 12. The line isn't long at all, which is also a bonus. When you two are given the all clear to go inside, you and Yuri enter the narrow, dark hallway.

You're suddenly quite aware of how close Yuri is as you walk- instead of trailing behind, she's right at your side now, pressed up against you since there's not a ton of room in this corridor. She doesn't seem to notice, too enraptured (ha, maybe you were hanging around her too much) by the thrill of what scares might await them to pay you much mind.

Talk about making a girl feel self-conscious. Despite being around the same age, Yuri was so much more...mature than you, to put it politely. It was nice in a way too- you felt safer than if you were by yourself, at the very least, since she was taller than you and so close to you.

The haunted house wasn't too scary, like you had assumed. The actors were great though, and at some point one of them lunged out towards you from a secret passageway and it startled you so badly that you ended up leaping backwards and pressing back against Yuri, your eyes wide and your heart hammering so loudly you bet the violet-haired girl had no trouble hearing it.

You stared tensely at the 'monster', needing a moment to collect yourself and remember how to breathe again. It's Yuri that manages to bring you out of it, which is so sweet of her since you all but crashed into the poor girl. She wraps her arms around you in a very gently hug, resting her chin on your hair. Where did all that confidence come from, anyway? It may have been the really dim lighting, you think to yourself- you can hardly see each other, so that could've given Yuri some boldness. Either that or she was finally getting comfortable around you!

The actor slowly recedes away, and you stay perfectly still for a minute longer than necessary. Finally, you clear your throat, awkwardly disentangling yourself from Yuri, who hops away from you quickly too, and even in the near-pitch black you could swear that she's blushing like crazy as she tries to stammer out an apology.

You shake your head, smiling nervously even though she can't see it. "T-Thanks, Yuri."

Okay, so maybe you had lied a little bit about it being 'not too scary.'

That was the last of the real scares, and you gladly spring out into the sunlight of day again, stretching your arms over your head. You look back to see Yuri hovering back in the darkness of the haunted house- was she okay? You ask your thought outloud.

"Y-Yes! I'm sorry. I'm coming..." She grudgingly steps out to join you in the real world, and you realize with a sense of deep sadness that she's not meeting your gaze anymore again. Great, just when you finally thought you were starting to make some progress on being friends with her. "That was a nice time, thank you very much, Y/N-" Those next words are blurted out and spoken so fast you're shocked she doesn't stutter over them. And the next thing you know, she's gone, disappearing into the crowds and leaving you alone and more than a little disappointed and confused.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Natsuki

You sigh to yourself as you wander around the amusement park, scanning around to see if anything piques your interest. You were also sort of hoping to see Sayori, considering she was responsible for dragging you here and now she'd ditched you, but you also wouldn't mind bumping into Yuri again to hang out. Something told you that Yuri had been pushed to her social interaction limit for the day though.

A loud, squeaky, angry, and oh-so-familiar voice causes you to head towards it and check out what's happening. As you thought, it's Natsuki, another of the girls in the Literature Club. She's standing at one of the game stands with her hands on her hips and leaning towards the guy running the game in an aggressive stance. You note that the game is one of those ones where you have to throw some darts at a balloon, and if you can pop one, you can get a prize. The prizes line the wall behind the man (more like disinterested teenage boy, but close enough), and they all are varying degrees of fluffy and cute stuffed animals. You never were a fan of amusement park games because they were more often than not rigged more than a claw machine.

You get a little closer so that you can hear better.

"...completely unfair! I hit that balloon, you and I both saw it!" Hisses Natsuki at the worker. It was too easy to compare her to a puffed up and angry kitten, you muse to yourself.

The boy shrugs. "Look, kid, if the balloon doesn't pop, then you don't get a prize. That's like, our only rule."

Fury flashes across Natsuki's face, and you resist the urge to laugh. Natsuki did look pretty young, but she was around your age, and probably this guy's age too. "Don't call me 'kid'!" She exclaims. "I won, fair and square! Just because it didn't-"

The argument was starting to draw in other bystanders, not just yourself. And you realize with a flicker of fear that you can see the worker reach for his walkie-talkie like he's going to call in security. Security on Natsuki, for god's sake. Ridiculous.

To prevent her from possibly being forcibly removed from the amusement park, you hurry over and place some money down on the game stand stable. "Can I try?" You interject. Even though you're not looking at Natsuki, you can feel her flinch away from you and sense her hostility and surprise at this new turn of events.

The boy running the stand regards you boredly, but you're relieved to see him put the walkie-talkie down. "Sure. That'll get you three tries."

Beside you, Natsuki scoffs. "As if you can hit one of them!" She grumbles. "It's not as easy as it looks." By how frustrated she was acting, you could guess that she'd been here the better part of the day attempting to win. But which prize did she have her eye on?

"Maybe not, but I can give it a shot," you say lightly. "Which one are we after?" You question her.

Natsuki glares at you fiercely, and you can see she's got a blush that matches her hair. Grudgingly, she points towards one of the bigger stuffed animals, a white bunny rabbit near the very top. "It's- it's not for me!" She informs you at once. "I wanted it for- for a friend. That's all."

'She's a terrible liar.' Nodding, you turn your attention to the man and tell him, "If I win, we get the bunny. Deal?"

"Means you've gotta shoot the purple balloon."

Of course, the purple balloon is at the very top of the wall of balloons. Fantastic. You don't have too much hope that you'll actually be able to pop it, especially when you see the kinds of darts he hands over to you. First of all, the tips are so blunt and dull that you can 100% believe that Natsuki did hit the balloon with one, but it wasn't nearly sharp enough to even hurt someone if they tested it against their skin. Second, the weight of it felt wildly uneven in the palm of your hand. The shape of the dart just wasn't sufficient enough to propel it through the air like it should have. This was precisely why you never would waste your time or money on this...but you couldn't exactly back out now, not with Natsuki's intense magenta eyes watching you like a hawk. If you didn't at least make an attempt, you'd never hear the end of it at the Literature Club, and it might cause you to lose what little respect Natsuki had for you. Which never seemed like a lot to begin with.

"C'mon, we've got a line now," sighed the worker, unimpressed with your examination of his faulty darts. It wasn't his fault they sucked, anyway. You were so focused on aiming your first dart that you didn't see the angry glance Natsuki cast at the boy.

You pulled back your arm and flung the dart at the balloon. It was pretty pitiful, you couldn't deny that. It sailed off away from the wall of balloons and landed outside of the game stand on the grass somehow.

Natsuki huffed a sigh, her arms crossed. But when the worker snorted and tried to hide his laughter, the little pinkette sprang closer like an affronted pomeranian. "It's not her fault these darts are total crap!" She snapped. You would never have expected in a million years for Natsuki of all people to jump to your defense and try to protect your honor.

She catches your wide-eyed gaze and then looks off to the side irritably. "Keep- keep your eyes to yourself," she growled under her breath.

You fortunately have the sense not to tease her about it. You have a better feel for how the darts travel through the air now, so you pick up the second one and aim again before sending it sailing. This time, it manages to hit the purple balloon target, but it simply bounces off the surface of it and clatters to the ground.

Natsuki opens her mouth to potentially blow up on the man, but you press a finger to your lips in a silent plea to ask her to be quiet. Now you have to take the brunt of her righteous fury in only a single expression, but she doesn't say a word.

One chance left.

You pick up your final dart, judging the distance from here to the balloon and considering the best angle to throw it. After a bit, you finally shoot your shot- and the resounding pop! catches you and all the bystanders by surprise.

What remains of the purple balloon flutters uselessly in the breeze. The worker still cares nothing for this, just goes to pluck the stuffed rabbit toy down from the prize wall.

You turn to beam at Natsuki, pleased with yourself. You've managed to surprise her, you can tell, and when you're handed your prize, you offer it out to Natsuki with a bright smile. "That was fun, huh?"

She stares at the bunny rabbit, still trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, as if she believed it's soft, fake fur was poisoned or something, she reached out to take it into her arms. Her face is growing more and more red by the second, and she buries it into the plush doll as if to hide herself or maybe try to regain her composure. Probably both.

The worker clears his throat loudly, indicating the two of you are still holding up the line, so you and Natsuki swiftly step to the side and start walking through the park. You're a little concerned she might trip over something or into someone since she's still hiding her face in the rabbit's fur and can't see where she's going, so you stick close to her in case she needs a hand to steady her. So much for 'letting her fall next time.'

When you can't handle the awkward silence any longer, you say, "Er, Natsuki...? Are you-"

She straightens up, cuddling the rabbit close to her. "It's fine!" She squeaks. "I- I mean- that was-" She's truly struggling here, and it makes you feel guilty. "You did okay," she manages to at last get out.

A twinge of unexpected hurt flashes through you. You'd privately been hoping that she would be impressed and grateful, but you guessed you shouldn't have ever thought those words might even be in Natsuki's vocabulary. "Oh..." You didn't mean for it to come out so forlorn, but you couldn't help it. "Yeah, thanks." You turn away from her, fighting back your disappointment. "I guess I'll see you at the club after school Monday, then-"

As you take the first step away, however, you feel Natsuki's hand dart out to grab your arm and force you to stop. "Wait!" Her voice is high-pitched with some frantic emotion you can't place a name to. "W-Wait, Y/N- I only meant that-" She huffs, stomping her shoe on the ground in obvious exasperation that you could only hope wasn't directed at you. "I-" God, it's a train wreck not just for her, but for you to witness too. "Thank you-!" The words have to be practically dragged out of her, so she tries again. "...Thank you."

You wait in confusion to see if there's anything else she's going to add, but when she doesn't, you tentatively reply, "Uhm...no problem-? I mean, you're always bringing cupcakes and stuff to share with everyone, so I just was hoping maybe I could try to return the favor and get you something." You pause. "I mean, get you something that you wanted to give to your friend." Best to try and fix any potential mistakes that could get you yelled at again.

Those words had some kind of effect on Natsuki, that was for sure, but you had no idea if it was a good kind or a bad kind. She's gazing up at you silently, seemingly frozen in place. Something snaps her back to reality, for she at last releases your arm, hugging the rabbit again like it could support her. "I guess...you can be really sweet sometimes instead of just a pain in the ass," she mumbles. You're about ready to be offended until Natsuki slowly holds out her bunny towards you, refusing to look at you. You're extremely befuddled and not sure what to expect when the soft nose of the plush bunny rabbit is touched gently against your cheek in a gesture that's very much like a feather-light kiss. "S-Stupid."

You feel like you're too paralyzed to respond in any kind of way, and besides, Natsuki's already brushing past you and stalking off, not giving you a moment to react anyway. You stand there for what feels like a long time after she's gone until it feels like you might have just imagined what happened there at the end.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monika

Your day at the amusement park was drawing to a close, and suffice to say, you were thoroughly exhausted by everything that had happened. You stop to rest at one of the benches that was sort of away from the throngs of people who were starting to leave the park to head home, so at least the crowds were thinning out. Sayori had insisted you guys come here today, since it was Saturday and all, but she'd ditched you what feels like forever ago, and then you'd run into all the other members of the Literature Club- well, almost all of the other members, that is.

You let your mind drift as you sat there, leaning back into the wooden white bench and staring up at the sky. The yellow light was starting to fade as the sun slowly began it's descent into the horizon line. The amusement park would be closing in maybe an hour or so, you think to yourself as you let your eyes drift shut. You should really go and try to find Sayori so you can walk home together with her...not that the streets weren't safe in the evening, but it was entirely possible your friend could get lost or distracted and end up wandering around town for hours when she should be home. But you were honestly worn out from hours of walking around and socializing...

Right when you've finally gotten comfortable enough that you think you're dozing off out of reality and into a well-deserved, dreamy nap, there's a voice from right beside you that scares you enough to make you jump and snap your eyes wide open.

"Hi, Y/N! Fancy meeting you here."

Aaand, now you'd come across all of your Literature Club members- sitting on the bench beside you with her hands folded neatly in her lap was Monika. You've never seen her in anything besides her school uniform before, but the casual white and mint-green floral spring dress matched both her signature white bow and her eyes nicely at the same time. You hadn't even heard her walk up or sit down, which was kind of odd, but not odd enough for you to really think anything of it.

"Ah- hi, Monika," you greet with a small smile, trying to relax and not look as out-of-sorts as you felt. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly in what was almost a sigh. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on leaving the house today, to be honest," you say in faint amusement. "Sayori sort of dragged me here to hang out."

Monika tilts her head to one side with a pleasant smile in return to you. "I see." She glances around as if she's expecting to see Sayori racing towards the two of you and calling loudly, her arms up in the air to get both of your attentions. But you and Monika are mostly alone. "So you spent the day with her?" The question is casual, and you don't think much of it at all.

"Uhm, not the whole day. We spent a little time together before she ran off somewhere...I bumped into Yuri and Natsuki today too, actually. Oh, but I was sort of thinking I should go try and find Sayori so we could head home."

Monika's emerald green gaze flicks away from you as a breeze ruffles her hair and yours. She doesn't respond for a moment, but you see that her friendly smile has faded somewhat now- and she looks...it's hard to say. Monika looks- gosh, you wish you were half as smart and descriptive as Yuri sometimes- wistful? Was that the word? Contemplatively wistful? She speaks again and it rouses you out of your daze. "So you were just about to leave." The Literature Club president flashes you an apologetic glance before rising gracefully up from the bench. "I didn't mean to bother; I can see you're tired, Y/N. I should get going too."

She doesn't seem sad, not necessarily, but you get the sense that something is a little off. Maybe it's the time of day affecting her mood? It's that weird hour where the day is technically over, but not quite yet- and there's a regretful longing permeating the atmosphere, the only way you could describe it might be like the feeling a high school kid gets on a Sunday evening, in spite of the fact today was Saturday, meaning the weekend wasn't over yet.

You move to stand up as well, a little clumsier than Monika. "But- there's still a little while before the park closes. If there was anything you still wanted to do here, I could come with you, if that sounds alright? Unless you were really going to leave, that is. I'm not so tired that I'd miss hanging out with you- outside of school, I mean."

There's the slightest hint of hesitation, and you're unable to decipher Monika's feelings right now. If you were to guess, you might say she's conflicted. Just as you're positive she's going to politely decline, her warm smile returns. "That would be nice," she says, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Okay, cool!" You brighten up and begin to walk through the amusement park with Monika.

She has her hands clasped behind her back and she's looking around to admire the scenery around you both while you do your best not to stare like a weirdo at her. "So, uhm...were you wanting to go on a ride or...?" You ask after a little while of silence.

Monika hums, but you don't think she's actually considering your suggestion. "I wouldn't ask you to wear yourself out anymore. When I first saw you on the bench, I thought you might have been taking a nap." While her tone of voice is casual, you can't shake the sense that there's an undercurrent of something else in those words. Almost like she's accusing others of making you tired or something. You're probably just imagining it.

Briefly, you wonder why she joined you if she thought you were asleep.

As if reading your thoughts, your club president continues, "Sorry if I disturbed you, Y/N." She slows the pace while you assure her that it was okay and she had done no such thing, stopping eventually to gaze upwards.

You follow suit to see the Ferris wheel towering above your heads. "I haven't been up there today," you comment thoughtfully. "Is it a pretty view?"

Monika dips her head slightly in assent. "I think so, yeah. Coming?" She leads you over to the man who is seating people in each of the carts, and he warns that this is the last go-around. "We understand, thank you," Monika says to him, and while she's just as charming, you think you know her well enough now to tell that this is her feigned politeness, like her guard is up.

He grunts and allows the two of you in one of the carts, shutting the glass door behind you.

You actually aren't scared at all. Well, you guess you are a little apprehensive at being in this small space alone with Monika, but you tell yourself you're being ridiculous. She's your friend, isn't she? So there's not a thing in the world to be nervous about...

The cart starts to go up into the air, and you stay standing while Monika takes a seat. Your hands press against the glass as the two of you climb higher and higher. The city is there, with all it's buildings and roads, but beyond it is... you can't really see what's beyond the city, and this confuses you. Shouldn't there be...something? Instead of just, blurry darkness? You blink several times and then brush at your eyes with the back of one hand like your sight is trying to deceive you. But when you look again, you still see only the murky black of nothingness beyond your city.

Monika's voice so near to you gives you a start- you'd been so dumbfounded by the missing scenery that you hadn't heard her stand up and come closer to you. Instead of watching the outside world, you sense her eyes are fixed intently on you. "What do you think?"

It's almost a relief to tear your gaze away from the glass. Her expression is rather closed off but serious, and sort of searching yours. You wish, not for the first time, that Monika was less of a mystery to you.

How to respond? "It's- strange," you manage to say.

The brunette leans impossibly closer to you, alight with surprise and near-disbelief as she presses, "What do you mean strange, Y/N?"

Feeling awkward and pressured, you find yourself taking a step backwards from Monika to get some space between you two. 'She'll think I'm crazy if I say it looks like we're floating in the middle of nowhere-outer-space in the middle of like a black hole or something.' "J-Just that-" You can see something akin to desperation written on her now, like she's trying to silently plead with you to answer her question sincerely. You fumble on the words, unused to this sort of intensity. "Just that...the town- it looks- different from up here..." Each word is stiff and awkward, you're really an awful liar, maybe even as bad as Natsuki.

Fervid disappointment seems to shake Monika's entire being, and she pulls back away from you, looking outside of the Ferris wheel cart again and far off into the distance. She's starting to become composed again and when the cart makes it last lap around and comes to a slow halt at the bottom, she turns back to face you and she's her usual self again: friendly, sweet, and bright. "I understand. Thank you, Y/N." The door to the cart opens and Monika moves to step out, offering you her hand to help you out.

Your breathing feels a little labored, and it isn't until later that you realize you'd actually been afraid. Not of Monika, more of the fact that you'd never once seen her behave anything like that before. It left such an impression on you that you were positive you hadn't imagined it. You do end up accepting her hand though, and you wonder if she can feel it's slight tremble.

One thing you weren't sure if you had imagined was the weird end of the world thing surrounding your city. Maybe there was something wrong with you. But you couldn't really think about that now.

"I told you it was a pretty view," giggled Monika. "You seem surprised. Didn't believe me?" She teased gently.

"Oh-! Oh, no, it isn't that! Like I said, it just was, er... different than I expected, is all," you murmur, glancing away- Monika's still holding your hand, but you don't have the heart to pull it out of her grasp.

You don't end up having to make that choice, since she jumps away from you at the yell of your friend Sayori. You see her bounding over to the two of you, just barely managing to hit the brakes and skid to a halt before colliding with you. She does however manage to shower you with dust and pebbles, to which you just press a hand to your forehead to quell a headache.

"Y/N! There you are! I was looking all over the place for you!" Sayori exclaims. She then waves at Monika, as bubbly as ever even though she should've, theoretically, gotten rid of some of that excess energy at the amusement park today. "Hey, Monika! Thanks for looking after her," she laughed.

Monika nods, much to your indignation. "My pleasure, Sayori. I'd better head off, then. I'll see you both after school for the club Monday!" She walked away, waving her farewell for a moment.

You didn't realize you were watching her go until Sayori's hand flailed in front of your face to get your attention. "Hey, we are going home together, aren't we?" She insists. "Otherwise I wasted soooo much time trying to hunt you down, Y/N!"

"Right, right, sorry. Of course we're walking back together- I was looking for you too."

Sayori pouts a little. "Did you think I'd be on the Ferris wheel?"

You grin. "Did you just use sarcasm, Sayori?"

She shakes her head quickly to deny it. "No, never! But am I wrong?"

"Okay, so maybe I did agree to spend some time with Monika," you confess with a shrug, allowing Sayori to pull you away towards the amusement park exit.

Sayori frowns, an unusual look for her. But it isn't a sad frown- it's a concentrated one. She was studying you with determination. "Did something happen? You seem a little out of it!" Amused, she pokes your cheek. "Fess up, Y/N! Do you have a crush on our club president? You have to tell me if you do! We're best friends!"

Sheesh, as if Sayori could ever keep a secret. But she was completely off base with that guess. "No," you answer her calmly. "I guess I...had some kind of epiphany."

".....what's an epiphany?"

'Ohmygod.'

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwynriel mating bond

I have written another version of gwynriel’s mating bond snapping into place but I like this one better

They were well and truly fucked.

It was the only thought that coursed through Azriel's mind. They had been outnumbered by Hybern certainly. Even then, the courts were able to rally together and defeat the king. Unfortunately, it was nothing compared to what they were facing now. They had the geographic advantage this time though. The night court inner circle stood at the highest point as the war raged on below. Cassian and him were regrouping while also arguing over which strategy would work best. Of course, Cassian won that argument. He was the general of the night court armies after all. Amren, who was no longer of much use in a fight, stood watching over the battle. Azriel could have sworn her eyes tracked the summer court armies. Feyre and Rhysand were currently arguing over the best course of action while Mor, unhelpfully added her opinion every other moment. It was clear to Azriel that his high lord and lady also realized they were fucked. Feyre thought they should draw back and regroup, but Rhysand felt that would give the other courts enough time to back out completely once they realized this was an un-winnable fight. Azriel knew he should give his opinion, but he was much more focused on surveying the carnage below them. Koschei and his army had managed to wipe out most of the spring courts forces- unsurprising considering they were still suffering from Feyre's plans even all these years later, the Illyrian aerial forces have taken a large hit, and the winter forces were not much help in this summer heat. It was not something Rhysand or the high lord of the winter court had calculated for, but as it turns out, training all your life in the brutal cold made it much more challenging to fight in the summer heat. All things considered they still might have had a chance if the autumn court had not sided with Koschei and the dark-bringers had not denied Rhysand's request for them to fight this war. According to Eris, there was only so much convincing he could do with his father before all their best laid plans would be tossed away like trash.

"We are being massacred out there, Rhysand! If we do not withdrawal, we will die!" Feyre's frantic voice pulled Azriel from his trance.

"We will die if we withdrawal!" He shouted back. "Kallias will retreat to his lands to save his people and leave us even further outnumbered."

"I am with Feyre on this one." Cassian finally piped up. His decision may have to do with the fact that a deep cut from top of his thigh to knee was not healing as fast as it should be. He was struggling to walk which would not be an issue if he could fly but Azriel had seen a faebane arrow cut through one of his wings earlier in the fight.

Mor was not better off and if he was being honest with himself, his own siphons were starting to drain.

"What the hell do they think they are doing?" Amren squeaked. The unusual tone has the entire group staring at the second in command with raised eyebrows. Azriel even managed a chuckle at that.

The group finally looked down to where Amren was pointing, only for Azriel to feel as though his heart had stopped. Before he could consider anything else, Azriel launched himself at Cassian. He was only able to hold himself back by sheer will alone. Rhysand eventually joined in to help hold Cassian back.

"Let go of me." He snarled. "She is going to get herself killed down there."

Azriel kept his hold steady but let his eyes wander back to the battle field. A weight had settled on his chest and he thought he might suffocate. He could only imagine how Cas was feeling. He watched as the Valkyries rode in on horses at full speed. He had to give credit where it's due, the horses were a smart move. It gave them the height and speed advantage. It appeared a group of almost 200 priestesses turned valkyrie were being led by Nesta with Emerie and Gwyn flanking her.  It was quite a majestic scene. One that he knew his high lady would try and recreate in a painting. The collision with Koschei's army on the ground was intense. Azriel wanted to watch to make sure his best friend, Gwyn, would remain unharmed, but Cassian was putting up too much of a fight. Finally, Mor did the only thing that would keep Cassian safe. She knocked him out with the butt of her sword. His body went limp immediately. Azriel grunted as he set his friend down. Cassian was much heavier than Azriel would like to admit.

Watching the three females fight was always awe inspiring. They worked so well together, it was as if they were daemati and could tell each other what moves they were planning on using. Azriel's eyes narrowed in on Gwyn as her dagger found its target. Her face was set in a determined expression that Azriel had spent many training sessions watching. He wanted to go down there to aid the female that had become his best friend in the last few years, but he was afraid that he might mess up whatever system the Valkyries were already working with.

"I am going to kill her." Rhysand groaned when he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

"They are supposed to be with Nyx!" Feyre cried. Obviously, leaving the child with Elain alone is the priority that the high lady has latched on to. Azriel rolled his eyes.

"Well now we have to fall back." Rhysand snapped. Azriel understood why he was frustrated. It was unwise for the Valkyries to join without telling Rhysand. It completely changes strategic plans that could have already been in place. Luckily for them, there were no plans.

"I don't know about that Rhys," Mor added. "They are kind of kicking ass down there."

Azriel turned back to check and sure enough, they were kicking ass. Azriel knew they were highly qualified and that they deserved to fight in this battle. It's one thing to know that and another to send your closest friends into the heart of an un-winnable war. Even from this far away, he could feel as Gwyn's stare fell upon him. He looked toward her and suddenly the pressure that had encased his heart as he watched her on that field made sense. It hit him so hard it was like the wind was knocked out of him. He fell to his knees with a groan. Mor was in front of him before he could blink.

"What's wrong?" She sounded panicked but nothing mattered to Azriel in this moment than getting down to Gwyn and carrying her far far away. He realized how Cassian must have felt which had Azriel feeling like an asshole. He would apologize later.

"Mate." Is all he managed before he took off in flight for the red head. He had to dodge several blasts of power from enemies that seemed to appear out of no where. He kept one eye on the females though. Their fighting was graceful and brutal all at once. Nesta beheaded an enemy as Emerie shot a male that was aiming for Gwyn. Gwyn was busy using her shield to protect another Valkyrie from a thrown ax.

It was as though it happened in slow motion. With his birds eye view, he could see what neither Nesta or Emerie could see. He pushed himself faster. He could beat the male that was fastly approaching Gwyn.

"Gwyn!" He started to scream. "Behind you." She could not hear him, of course. He began screaming it over and over again. His feet had barely hit the ground when his mate finally whipped her head around to make eye contact. A mischievous smile graced her face, but Azriel could only focus on the male that was too close.

"Behind you!" He shouted once more. She turned quickly as Azriel began running full speed towards her. She did not even have time to raise her shield before a sword pierced straight through her stomach.

"No!" The strangled cry caught both Nesta and Emerie's attention. Nesta beheaded the traitor as he pulled his sword out. Azriel fell to his knees as he attempted to stop her bleeding. His hands were covered in blood after only a second of covering her stomach. He knew what it meant and it felt as though his heart was being shredded. Nesta knelt on the other side of Gwyn as Emerie protected them. Nesta grabbed for her face.

"You are okay, Gwyn. It's barely a scratch. Azriel is going to fly you to Feyre and she will heal you." Nesta's matter of fact tone began to calm Azriel. They had a plan. Gwyn would be fine.

"Fuck, it hurts." Gwyn managed to splutter out with a laugh. She coughed up blood as she said it. Nesta and Azriel shared a look.

"You are okay." Azriel was unsure of who Nesta was trying to convince by repeating that. He did not have much time to ponder that before the abrasive female turned to him. "You can fly her to Feyre right?"

It was dangerous. He would have trouble fending off attackers while carrying Gwyn. He had to try though. Tonight may end with all of their deaths. Given that there was not a safer option, he had to risk it.

"Hurry up." Emerie seethed as she shot the last of her arrows. She quickly switched to her sword as an onslaught of new enemies rushed towards them. Azriel adjusted Gwyn as he lifted her into his arms. Before he could take off, Nesta placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Nes!" Emerie shouted. Nesta went back to fighting and Azriel shot up into the air. Dodging attacks was much harder than he anticipated. He wished he could winnow but he had drained too much of his power to successfully accomplish that. An arrow skimmed the side of his calf when Gwyn finally spoke up.

"Mates huh? Who would have thought?"

"Shhh. Save your energy."

"I have always had a thing for you, ya know? I figured you would know since you are the spy master and all. Might as well tell you anyways since I am about to die." She rasped out. Her hand was resting on his neck and if he was being honest it made his heart skip a beat. Even if they were in the middle of a war.

"Do not say that." He found himself snapping. "You are not going to die. You are fine."

A small lovely smile from her distracted him for only a second when an arrow sliced through his wing and he felt them falling to the treacherous grounds below. He attempted to land on his feet, but the hole in his wing made it exceedingly difficult. He wrapped himself around her so that he could take the brunt of the fall. Azriel was already trying to reach out to Rhys to bring Feyre to them as a backup plan. They must have been busy because there was no answer. A warrior raced towards them with a sword. Azriel was too injured to fight as easily as he should have been able to. Before he could even rise to his feet, an arrow sliced through the females throat. Azriel looked behind him to see Emerie and Nesta racing towards them. A sigh of relief left his body.

“Gwyn, are you okay?” He had to check after their rough landing.

“Never better.” She choked out. He went back to covering her wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“New plan. You are going to ride back with Nesta and find Feyre to heal you.” He was feeling frantic at this point. Gwyn would only get worse as the faebane worked its magic and he would not be able to live with the fact that he could not save her.

“Hey Azriel,” she had never called him by his full name before- only Shadowsinger or Az. “I love you. You have been my closest friend and I just realized I have never said it to you before. But I want you to know that I do love you.” Her breathing was harsh and her words came out raspy. Azriel had longed for the day to hear those words, but he knew that Gwyn was saying them as a goodbye and he hated that.

“Stop talking. Save your energy.” Another of Koschei’s fighters popped up only to be downed by another of Emerie’s arrows- she must have found more somewhere.

Two more charged towards them. Azriel ripped silver majesty from Gwyn’s holster and simultaneously threw her dagger and truthteller. It sliced through both of their throats. Nesta and Emerie were almost here. He just had to protect her a little longer.

“Az,” she began again.

“Stop distracting me.” He did not want to be harsh.

He promised he would make it up to her with sweet words when they made it out alive. She grabbed his hand roughly searching for his attention. The connection between their hands sent a spark through him. He finally looked at her. Blood covered her mouth and hands, sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, her eyes were looking a little glassy, and her pale skin was even paler than normal. He knew what this meant and could not stop the tears that flowed from his eyes.

“It is okay.” Gwyn whispered as her hand came up to caress his face. “I will find you again in another life.”

“Gwyneth, I lov-“ Azriel was interrupted by an ear shattering scream.

“No!” Nesta was looking behind them.

Azriel’s head whipped back to see a female charging for them faster than he could block in his weakened state. He accepted his fate then. Gwyn and him would find death together. He squeezed her hand tightly and waited. Nothing happened though. He looked behind him again to see the female had been taken out by a winter court soldier. He peered more closely at the soldier- only to realize he was dead. Nesta and Emerie finally reached them. Nesta was wearing the mask. Azriel knew this would end in disaster. Rhysand strictly forbid the use of the dread trove in this war. He knew that Koschei was searching for it and as long as it was locked away then it was safe. Nesta might as well have delivered it to him on his door step.

“Nes, what are you doing? Koschei-“ before he could finish though, Nesta was rushing to Gwyn’s side already cutting him off.

“Koschei won’t come near me as long as I have the one weapon that could kill him.” She pointed to Ataraxia- her made weapon that was sheathed on her back. Nesta grabbed Gwyn by the face, forcing her attention. Emerie stood guard again. It gave Azriel some faith that Nesta had a plan to save Gwyn.

“I am going to fix this, okay? Gwyneth Berdara I will not allow you to die today.” Nesta’s tone was final and absolute. Azriel finally saw the harp in her hand. He watched as Nes placed a kiss to Gwyn’s cheek and then she pulled the last string.

In the next moment, Nesta was forcing Gwyn to drink what appeared to be blood- Feyre’s blood. He knew then that the harsh female must have paused time in order to obtain the blood. What was no time at all for them, must have been forever for Nes. He noticed that the fighting had completely stopped. Whether it was because the undead soldiers were enough to overwhelm Koschei’s forces or because of something Nesta did during the time pause, Azriel would not ask until he knew Gwyn would live. Emerie was on her knees, lifting Gwyn’s head to rest in her lap. Emerie began brushing pieces of hair away while whispering something in her ear. Nesta watched intently while squeezing Gwyn’s hand. Azriel realized he was mirroring Nesta’s movements. He also was squeezing Gwyn’s hand while watching her intently. Her eyes were closed, but the wound on her stomach had finally closed. It felt like eternity before her eyes began to flutter open. A weight lifted off Azriel’s chest- an all-consuming weight. They all waited for Gwyn to speak before celebrating though.

“Hey.” She managed to cough out. Emerie shouted with glee as she peppered kisses all over her face. Nesta threw her body over Gwyn’s in a desperate attempt of a hug. Azriel felt the urge to shove both of them off and gather Gwyn into his lap for the worlds longest hug. He resisted though because he knew how Nesta and Emerie were feeling. It was how he was feeling- grateful for their best friend to be breathing.

“You are in so much trouble. I cannot believe you let yourself get stabbed!” Nesta yelled at her and then proceeded to hug her again. Azriel just squeezed the hand he still had a hold of.

“We are going to force Azriel to train you so much harder because of this just so you know.” Emerie cracked a smile as tears still poured down her face.

“Sorry.” Is all Gwyn could manage. Azriel could no longer hold out. He lightly nudged Nesta off of Gwyn, then he pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked her head under his chin.

“I fucking love you Gwyneth Berdara,” she pulled away to look up at him with big shocked teal eyes that were brimming with tears. “But if you ever pull that shit again, I will personally ensure that you train everyday for at least five hours.” She immediately started laughing. It was like music to his ears. His shadows, who had been moving so chaotically since the bond snapped in place that he chose to ignore them, finally calmed down. It was as if her laugh proved that she was going to live. One stray shadow reached out to caress her cheek. She sighed into it.

“Blame yourself,” she started joking which only eased the tension in his body even more. “I was distracted by the mating bond.” She pulled away to give him a genuine smile that tugged at the bond. It was so beautiful it hurt.

“Mating bond?” Emerie screeched. Gwyn laughed again. It was music to his ears.

Gwyn grabbed him by the face and pulled his lips to hers. He could hear Nesta and Emerie squealing- so in contrast to the battlefield they were currently sitting on.

It was by far the best kiss he’s ever had. The bond was singing as were his shadows. Blood that still covered her mouth was smearing onto his, their sweat was wiping off on each other, and the dirt caked onto his hands were getting in her braid as he held onto the back of her head. It was not the best circumstances for a first kiss, but he did not care. It was beautiful and magical and every other positive adjective that he could not think of. A swipe of her tongue against his was electric. His shadows had never sung to someone as they had her. They broke apart and the smile on Gwyn’s face was worth every hardship he had to endure to get to this moment.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter nineteen - “tomorrow”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.8k

synopsis: reader is faced with a very distressing ultimatum and has to deal with the consequences.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

authors note: omg pls listen to “water under the bridge” by adele after reading this it’s fits so well

Muted. She felt muted - but not necessarily in a bad way. Everything in her was dialed down and dulled. Over the last couple days, Y/N had toned down her emotions, feeling less. Call it a coping skill. Call it a stress response. Whatever. It wasn't like she was sad about it. In a way, in was comforting - not having some overwhelming internal angst.

It had been a week since that fight she and Bucky got into. The mature part of her was telling her to find him and talk it out like the adults they were. But here's the thing. Over time, before they even had the fight, the number of therapy sessions they were having was less frequent as his treatment was improving. The sessions were more intermittent now, and there wasn't one scheduled for a while. Until then, she felt no desire to talk to him.

Was she mad? Sad? She wasn't sure. She just avoided thinking of things that caused her a considerable amount of distress. At this particular moment in time, Bucky was one of those things. Ergo, she made a constant effort to ignore all thoughts of him.

Though, she somehow couldn't entirely ignore the ever present lack of... Bucky. She had gotten so used to having him close by, used to having someone to talk to, laugh with. His proximity had become a constant. A comfort. She refused to admit to herself that silence didn't feel like silence anymore; it just felt like the absence of his voice.

She found she needed to keep herself busy.

Bucky handled it a bit differently. He had lots of intense emotions but he didn't mute them, per say. He didn't ignore them. He felt them, he definitely felt them. He just kept them bottled up inside and talked about it to no one. It was a very strange change of routine. Whenever he had some sort of emotional turmoil, he would always go to her - therapy session or not - to vent, rant, ask for advice, or just talk through a stream of consciousness. Now he just had to sit with it.

He spent most of his time alone. He missed her.

-

"Hey Shuri," Y/N greeted as she entered the princess' lab.

"Hello," Shuri smiled. "Come sit."

This wasn't a routine visit. Shuri mentioned wanting to talk about something else this time. Something important. She was reminded of this when she walked in to find two Doras sitting with Shuri at a lab table.

"So," Shuri started, "The trigger word experiment. We're here to discuss safety and security."

Shit. That awful thing. It had slipped her mind these past couple days.

"Alright. What are we thinkin'?"

"Well, the Doras don't think it would be necessary to have two of them there with you, but if you would feel safer with two, then that's fine as well."

"I think one is fine. I trust your judgment," Y/N nodded to the Doras.

And I'm not afraid of Bucky, she thought but didn't say.

"We also have a special location to run the experiment," one of the Doras, Ayo, added. "Away from people and secluded in the case of an emergency."

"Okay. That sounds good."

"We understand Barnes is now equipped with the vibranium arm, yes?" Shuri asked.

"Yes, he is."

"Then you need to know something for the experiment."

Y/N's brows furrowed, confused. Was she missing something?

"There's sort of a fail safe built into the arm," Shuri began.

Fail safe?

"There are a series of pressure points when, if hit correctly, will disengage the arm. It will just drop to the ground. So if anything were to happen-"

"I'm sorry, what?"

The expression on Shuri's face changed immediately when she heard her partner's tone. Y/N looked bewildered and almost in disbelief.

"It's there as a precaution in case Barnes needs to be put in check."

Suddenly, every emotion she had been "muting" rushed back into her head. Every feeling for Bucky returned, as well as her compulsion to protect him.

"Building that into the arm shows a complete lack of trust."

"You know what HYDRA did. It's unpredictable, and I'm sorry but we just can't be sure."

"We need to be careful with this so it doesn't blow up in our faces," Ayo said.

"I understand having that precaution for this test, I do. But it isn't just this test. Given it was successful and everything worked out, he was supposed to keep the arm. Right?"

"Right."

"So we fix the HYDRA programming and he's free, but leave the 'fail safe' in so after all of this, he still has someone in control of him."

"The arm is a gift," Ayo stated. "He should be happy he has it at all."

"I understand that, and believe me, he is so grateful. But a gift is for someone else to keep and use as their own. How are we supposed to help him and work with him for months, building trust and aiding him in healing to just tarnish all of that with deception?"

"It's what's best for the protection of all."

"Even after the experiment if it's successful?" Y/N cried in disbelief. "I should say when it's successful. Shuri, I've been seeing his progress for months and working with you on his neurobiology data. Can't you tell how much skill has been put into this? It's us. It's going to work."

"Even still."

"I can't stand for that. I would understand if it was just for this test, but after? We haven't come this far just to not trust our own work and Bucky's deprogramming. He deserves to have someone on his side."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's already been done. The arm is already built and being used."

"This is the plan," Ayo declared. "Either you are on board, or you are free to leave Wakanda. We can fly you out as soon as tomorrow morning."

"I can't knowingly be a part of this. It's wrong."

"As I said. Free to leave."

She refused to be a willing participant in perpetuating the loss of Bucky's autonomy. He's been through enough, had enough taken from him. She would not play a single role in taking more away.

"I guess I have to go then," she said, standing from her chair.

She couldn't believe the words coming from her own mouth.

Shuri sighed. "That's very unfortunate, my partner. I'm sorry we couldn't agree on this."

"I am, too. But please. Please consider what this will do to him. It's like saying 'even though we've all been working with you, we don't actually believe that you're not still a weapon.' What is he supposed to think of that?"

"Barnes isn't going to have to think anything about it..."

"...because he isn't going to know," Ayo finished the thought.

"No..."

"It's the way it has to be."

"No it's not."

"Y/N..."

She took a couple steps back, preparing to leave the room. "No, I'm sorry. I can't. He needs to know. I'm going to have to tell him."

"I'd advise against it if you care about your job," called an unfamiliar voice.

Y/N turned to the other Dora, whom she didn't know.

"What?"

"What would your employers think if they knew their doctor had certain... inappropriate relations with a patient? And a very infamous one at that."

She froze, face burning. Her stomach dropped and her breathing stopped dead.

Did they-? Who else-? How did they-? What did they-?

She couldn't form a single coherent thought.

"You are more than free to leave quietly, without any worries" said the Dora, "but if Barnes knows about this, you can be sure that the rest of the world will know about you and your... relations."

It was then when she could feel almost every piece of her world come crashing down. She could feel every test she took, every research project she was a part of, every hour she spent studying for the career that took years to build. The thing she was most proud in this world, the part of herself she most loved. She felt the job she loved and all the things she had learned and accomplished begin to crumble around her.

This career... it was her life. It was her passion. It was all she had. Now she was in immediate danger of losing it. All she could process was fear; she shut down.

Finally, she managed words.

"Okay," she conceded, her defeated voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go... quietly. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned around and took the remaining steps out of the now silent room.

- - -

When she was in the hallway, she felt like she was dying. The guilt was overwhelming. How could she betray him like this? She tried to fight for Bucky to get the truth and now she has to hide it from him and leave him. She has to lie to him.

Y/N was still in shock, completely immersed in her own fear. It felt as if she wasn't in her body. She knew she was moving - walking down the hallway. But her body was just on autopilot; she was gone.

She couldn't tell if she was crying but she could feel a twinging in her eyes and a burning in her nose. She was also hardly breathing so if she was crying, it was nearly silent.

In a faraway echo, she thought she heard her own footsteps. She wasn't sure where they were taking her, but she wasn't sure if she cared.

-

She walked, and she kept on walking for a long time. She could feel the ache in her feet once she sat down in front of the water. She hadn't planned to go to the waterfall - that waterfall... their waterfall. It just sort of happened. Perhaps it was a long enough distance away to feel safe.

She finally let herself think for a moment.

What the fuck had just happened? Her exact fears had come to be. Somehow, someone saw or figured out her and Bucky. It felt worse than she thought it would. Exposed. Embarrassed. Guilty. Humiliated. Distressed.

It was numbing. So numbing that she stared at the little pool and let the white noise of the waterfall clog her ears until she was able to lose track of time.

She had no idea how long it had been when he approached her.

"Y/N!" Bucky's voice called as he jogged over after catching sight of her. "I've been looking for you! Can we please talk?"

His voice snapped her out of it, but her gaze remained fixed on the water in front of her. She wasn't sure what to do, how to engage with him; she froze.

When she didn't even turn her head, Bucky guessed she was still upset with him. He didn't want to be a bother, but he needed to talk to her. He sat down right next to her.

"Okay..." he started, carefully. "I know things aren't great between us right now, but-"

She turned her head to him and the words died in his throat when he saw her face: bloodshot, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. He forgot whatever he was going to say, cupping both sides of her face.

"Oh my god, what happened!? A-Are you alright?"

The cool metal of his hand on her cheek made her want to scream, reminding her of what she could not tell him. Reminding her of the searing guilt. Trembling hands reached up to touch his arms. And then he saw the quiver in her lip.

"Oh, honey," he cooed, worried. "Hey... Hey, talk to me. Talk to me, what's wrong?"

He was so concerned and so sweet even after they had a huge blowout. If possible, it made her feel even worse. She didn't deserve his kindness anymore. She just stared into him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen.

Bucky had never seen her like this and he was scared. Was it because of him and their fight? He supposed so. What else could it have been?

"I'm so sorry, please don't cry," he caressed the back of her head with one hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said, I was just mad. You were right. I feel awful, I had no idea it upset you this much."

Their fight was the very last thing on her mind. Looking back on it, it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to now. But he thought this was his fault. She wanted to break into a million tiny pieces and let the wind blow her away.

She shook her head. "Bucky, no. It's not that. It's not you."

He looked so confused. She felt so bad.

"Then what... what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving."

Bucky leaned back, perplexed, and his hands slid down to rest on her forearms. "Leaving? You're leaving Wakanda?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, hey- You don't have to leave. We can figure something out. We were too risky, you were right. I understand that now. We don't have to do that anymore. We can make sure that we're always completely in private from here on out."

She shook her head, staring down at the grass below her. "I'm sorry, I can't... I can't do that. I have to leave."

She could barely look him in the face.

"You don't, it's okay," he implored. "I know it worried you, but it really only was Steve. And I know, I know it could have been anyone and I get that. I thought about it, and I get it. We don't ever have to... sleep together... again. We won't be distracted, and-and we'll be careful."

She clenched her eyes shut, trying not to let her burning eyes release more tears. It didn't work.

"Bucky..."

"Baby doll please," his voice cracked while he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes again. "We can just-... we can just go back to the way it was before. In the very beginning. We can- we'll only see each other in sessions, we don't-... No more lake trips or all-nighters or anything just-"

He sharply inhaled, beginning to ramble as his breath became unsteady.

His voice shook just slightly. "You can barely even talk to me if you don't want to- just please don't go..."

She thought a part of her cracked and died at that moment. She sprung forward and held him as tight as she could. Instinctively one of Bucky's arms was around her back and the other cradled the back of her head.

She thought maybe if she held tight enough, she could keep them together and she wouldn't have to leave him there alone. Of course he would be fine, but he would spend the rest of his time feeling like it was his fault that she had gone.

She couldn't let him think this was his fault.

"Buck, I don't wanna leave you. But I have to do what's best for the both of us. You'll be just fine without me. I promise."

He didn't think so.

"I'm putting your treatment and my career in jeopardy if I stay," she continued. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to either of us. I'm sorry if you hate this and I'm sorry if you hate me for doing it."

He mumbled something in the crook of her neck, but she couldn't hear it. She pulled back from the embrace.

"What?"

"I could never hate you."

Despite the fact that she was so internally distraught, despite what happened with Shuri and the Doras, with having to tell Bucky she was going to leave him, with having to watch him beg her to stay, despite the extreme dread and guilt within her, she still looked at him and felt so much love.

She was doing the very thing he feared and all he could do was care for her.

"God, I'm gonna miss you," she breathed before grasping his jaw, and pulling his head to hers.

Bucky tasted salt and he couldn't tell if it was his or her tears mixing into their lips.

As much as he wanted her to stay, he could sense how serious she was about this. He wouldn't be able to convince her to stay even if he tried. And he already did.

He could only soak up as much of her as he could before she left, and be with her until she had to go. He had no idea how much time he had. Wait-

"When are you leaving?" he broke the kiss as soon as the thought arose.

She was silent for a moment when another tear dripped down her face. "Tomorrow."

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @small-death-and-codeine @avengersgirllorianna @cataves @thatbitchsposts @talktomeaboutthestars @surrealpsycho @headheartbellarke @bubbly-moonwarrior @bluemoon-icecream @buckeyecreates @augustbucky @itsthemaree @undiadeestos

[caffernnn]

Haru’s hopelessness - an extensive rambling.

Watchers of Free! Eternal Summer - y’all remember this moment, right? 

Throughout S2, as some of the boys now have to seriously think about their lives and paths after high school, Haru struggles to think past what he’s always known: swimming for his friends/himself, eating mackerel, and being free. Things arguably take a darker turn once Haru cannot run from the question anymore and breaks, lashing out at Rin and saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future. 

There are so many things that can be unpacked from this quote alone, and my thoughts on the matter will probably be sporadic, but here are a few key things I’d like to try diving into in this post:

My interpretation of Haru’s, Makoto’s, and Rin’s characters’ mindsets

What Haru is likely trying to say

How Makoto and Rin interpret his words (based on their mindsets and experiences)

I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it all as well, so please feel free to add on :)

DISCLAIMER: This post will reference material outside of S2 itself to explain my insight/interpretation of the characters (S1 episodes, High Speed novel), but I won’t be putting full links to all of those materials in this post. If you’d like a specific link to anything I’m referencing, let me know and I can try to dig one up.

When first hearing Haru say that he doesn’t have a dream or a future, it is shocking and concerning, especially to his friends. However, as broken as lost as Haru is in this moment, the weight of his words and what he’s verbally trying to convey is most likely different than what his friends hear. I feel as if a big reason for this comes down to the different ways the characters perceive time and approach general goal-setting. 

Here is a video that can give a frame of reference for what I mean by “time perception,” but I’ll still try to explain my thinking ---> https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJsdVUhu/

Rin and Haru butt heads on many occasions throughout the series due to having opposing characteristics and approaches to life. The big difference that comes into play during S2 is how they both approach goal-setting and time. As soon as we’re introduced to Rin, it becomes apparent that he is someone who is a visionary that has always set his sights on the future. From boldly proclaiming his Olympic goals in elementary school to encouraging their team to put their relay trophy into a time capsule, Rin establishes himself early on as a dreamer that puts his all into his long-term goals. Being someone who thinks about things in this manner isn’t inherently good or bad, but it does lend a hand to many of the issues we see Rin go through in S1 (having tunnel vision on his goal that isolates him from his friends, being prone to catastrophize when confronted with road blocks along the way [like when he breaks down after losing to Haru in middle school], etc.). However, all of that dreaming puts him at an advantage now when preparing to move forward into post-high-school life. He has a frame of reference for most of his next steps (winning races, talking to scouts), and now he just has to make it a reality.

Haru, in essence, lives his life in the moment. If he wants to swim, he’ll try to swim; if he wants mackerel, he’ll try to make mackerel. He lets the people around him (usually Makoto) worry about the possible consequences for his actions (swimming too early in spring might get him sick, swimming in a fish tank might get him kicked out of XYZ place, cooking mackerel after a long bath might make him late for school, etc.). The way he thinks about all of his “tomorrows” beyond acting freely on impulse is through having a consistent routine or norm to cling onto. When swimming, he’ll swim freestyle. When given a choice, he’ll default to eating mackerel. He’ll find a way to get in a swim or a bath most days because water is safe. He’ll walk with Makoto to and from school, sticking to the side of the path closest to the ocean and anticipating sharing the same split popsicle. This is about as much thought as he lends to the future, usually: he’ll keep doing the things that make him happy and comfortable, whatever that’ll mean to him in the moment. In opposition of Rin, this frame of mind based in immediacy and short-term goals helps him in S1 (teaching Rin to appreciate the moment, connecting with his friends, not getting lost in the overly analytical or competitive side of swimming), but it makes the challenges that come with his looming graduation in S2 much harder to cope with. 

The reason that it’s important to understand how both Haru and Rin frame their perceptions of time is because it plays right into what Haru is saying during their argument. He is frustrated with Rin because Rin doesn’t understand the way Haru thinks/lives moment-to-moment (he yells as much in this fight) and he is tired of hearing people for years try and push him into long-term thinking about his future when he doesn’t naturally approach life that way. Think back to one of the first things Haru said in S1: 

“When you're ten, they call you a prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person. About three years until I'm ordinary. Man... I can't wait to be ordinary.”

Because of Haru’s swimming abilities, people have looked at him as a prodigy and have had their own visions about his potential or his future ever since he was young. Even if it seems like flattery, Haru feels boxed in by all of this. Being considered a prodigy comes with expectations that put him on a pedestal he never asked to be placed on -- if he’s going to swim, he’s expected to swim well; if he swims well, he’s expected to capitalize on his abilities in a competitive manner or expand his horizons to other forms of swimming; if he’s going to live his life tied to the water, people view him as a swimmer before they view him as anything/anyone else. Haru has been frustrated with all of this since he was younger (as expressed in S1), but it gets even worse as people close in on Haru from all sides with advice and sentiments that compound in Haru’s head as belonging to the echo chamber he hates so much. 

So... what does this all mean in relevance to Haru saying he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Here’s my line of thinking: all of the internalized frustration Haru has with long-term thinkers (from his perspective) speaking over him and not taking time to understand his in-the-moment intuition-led mindset comes out in this line. What Haru is trying to say is that he doesn’t have a detailed long-term plan because he isn’t a romantic visionary like Rin. He wants to stick with his relatively free lifestyle (y’know, the one where he can do what he wants, but still ultimately sticks to a routine) because he sees no point in forcing himself to put effort into big changes if 1) he’s satisfied and 2) the system isn’t broken.*

*we learn later, especially through Haru and Makoto’s later fight, that these two points are up for debate, but this is what Haru has convinced himself to believe at the time of this specific confrontation.

However, with the way Haru vocalizes this frustration, it is vague enough that Rin and the others hear something much different. It’s written right on their faces. Like I mentioned earlier, being a long-term thinker prone to catastrophizing, Rin interprets (and possibly misconstrues) Haru’s words to mean that he doesn’t think he has the potential or abilities to strive for something. Rin feels Haru’s words like a punch to the gut because he relates Haru’s hopelessness to the times he has felt lost and hopeless, like when defeat after defeat led to him breaking down after his middle school race with Haru. It’s shocking and it stings for Rin to hear, because as much as he’s learned to believe in himself and his own future, he’s also held onto those dreams and hope for his friends. I’ll admit, his dedication and borderline obsession with swimming lends to him mostly vocalizing the dreams he has for his friends that are related to swimming (Makoto and Haru getting scouted, Sousuke returning to swimming), but the love is still there. 

The idea of long-term vs short-term thinkers I’ve presented isn’t completely dichotomous or black-and-white, even though Haru and Rin tend to fall on the far opposite sides of the proposed spectrum. So, where does someone like Makoto fall? 

Makoto is an interesting case. From how I’ve come to understand his character, I would say he also looks to the future, albeit in less idealistic or extreme ways than Rin. Makoto’s forward line of thinking presents itself through both his people-pleasing tendencies and his caring disposition. When Makoto interacts with people, he is often observant and calculating, trying to figure out how he can navigate a conversation in the most complimentary or polite manner. This ability and tendency to understand/empathize with others ties into a lot of the roles he takes on: team captain, big brother, part-time position as a swim coach, full-time position as Haru’s impulse control... he is inclined to think about the future and all of the possible consequences for his actions. This also ties into some of the other things we know Makoto’s character for, such as being a scaredy-cat (aka, someone who overthinks consequences in fear of the unknown) and a ray of sunshine (aka, someone who wants to see the best in people and holds onto optimism/hope for the people he loves, even if it sometimes means not saving enough for himself and his own abilities). 

Despite being more of a forward-thinker, Makoto has definitely been influenced by his close relationship with Haru. Makoto has spent most of his life observing and learning how to read Haru, and it has been shown time and time again that Makoto is one of the people (if not, the person) that understands Haru best. He understands that Haru values the freedom of choice and harbors a desire for unconditional appreciation. He understands that Haru puts stock in consistency/reliability and needs time and space to process or reflect when life deviates from that carefully-crafted norm. Makoto’s actions towards Haru over the years all reflect him trying to be respectful of these observations. Even when he can tell something is bothering Haru, Makoto tries to let Haru work it out on his own first, not prodding him for information but letting his presence/support be known all the same. I digress, being best friends, their lives and routines are tightly woven together. Because of this, Makoto spends a lot of time also living in-the-moment with Haru -- he is a large proponent in Haru’s “free” lifestyle. 

Since Makoto has a foot in both Haru and Rin’s respective worlds, how does he interpret Haru’s declaration that he doesn’t have a dream or a future? Surely, since he understands Haru and his position so well and has always been respectful of his mindset/wishes, he gets what Haru is trying to say... right? 

Unfortunately for Haru (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), Makoto is immediately concerned by those words in a way similar to Rin. Like I mentioned earlier, Makoto holds deep optimism and hope in his chest for all of the people he cares about. Even though he never forced lofty expectations onto Haru to swim or be anything other than himself, he still holds so much care and hope for his best friend. For Makoto to hear that Haru might not have that faith in himself or the belief that he is worth a bright future, it breaks his heart. Similar to Rin, he is probably thinking back to his own moments of hopelessness, and I can’t help but think back to the lost and scared Makoto fighting with himself during the middle school days. When entering middle school, Makoto struggles with his identity, trying to figure out just how dependent he is on Haru’s friendship. One of his darkest moments in my mind comes from Chapter 8 of the High Speed! 2 novel, when Makoto is beating himself up especially hard after being frozen by his fear of the ocean yet again. Haru finds Makoto alone on a secluded part of the shore, where he says this:

“Will I be alright even if Haru isn’t here? …..I wanted to make sure of that.”

Raising his eyebrows, he shows a lonely smile. Makoto was fighting all along. He was suffering, all along. In a place where Haruka’s thoughts couldn’t possibly reach... 

“Would Haru be alright even if I weren’t here?”

If Makoto’s internal struggles throughout their middle school days reveal anything, it is that Makoto has experienced a hopelessness that he wouldn’t ever wish on his friends. To think that Haru might now be at war with himself in a way that makes him question his own place in the world, his future... it is the ultimate catalyst for Makoto to step in and try to talk to Haru. Sadly, we all remember how that confrontation went...

ENTER: THE FIREWORKS FIGHT (S2E11)

(Since this post is already super long, I might go more into my thoughts on how this all plays into the misunderstandings about the fireworks fight in a separate post. We’ve talked about the fight at length on multiple occasions and you can definitely find my thoughts on the matter if you look under the “#fireworks angst night” or “#meta” tags on my profile.)

If you’ve made it this far into the post, thanks for sticking with me. I’d love to hear about how you interpreted Haru’s words or how you think the others took in his breakdown.