#sometimes it feels like he barely made a scratch at all to what actually represents her personhood

[greensaplinggrace]

I think one of the biggest differences between bangel and spuffy is that angel isn’t a partner to buffy. he’s not even someone she knows that well. he’s not someone she’s ever familiar with, and he’s not someone she can ever fully rely on.

yeah their romance was big and grand and all the things a tragic fairytale romance is. but at the end of the day their relationship is so incredibly surface level. all there is is the idea of love, and not even the real thing.

[nakimov]

Asking them if you’re their type

Featuring: Susano’o, Loki, Qin, and Apollo ( part 1 )

Ight new series! And yes, established relationship.

Part 2.

Warnings? Mostly fluff.

Susano’o

Being the wife of the sword god, you must’ve impressed him somehow. Well, you were yet you were having doubts about why he asked for your hand in marriage of all the women he could’ve wanted.

You were an ordinary fighter. You used the legendary Kusanagi no Tsurugi sword and created new wind-style techniques. While Susano’o used the Totsuka-no-Tsurugi. Was it by luck you had created such a fine blade? Susano’o had spotted you training one day and was acting crazy over your techniques.

He begged you to teach him your kenjutsu techniques that you’ve learnt from humans. In a way, you liked how he was super fun to be around with until he told everyone from the Shinto pantheon that you were his wife. It was supposed to be a secret to keep quiet. Amaterasu? You were certain she wanted to kill you. However, you were a female sword goddess like Susano’o except you weren’t for the seas and storms. You represented warm breezes and spring. They found you as the perfect match for him.

“Oh no, he’s gone somewhere again…” you mumbled looking ahead over the hill but Susano’o was already fighting in a new battle showing off his sword skills.

“You see that! It barely scratched me,” Susano’o was enthusiastic despite all the humans that watched him kill such a beast to save them. He was dressed and disguised differently when he was around them. You haven’t been a saviour to anyone unlike him. Your insecurities were eating at you more. Were you really supposed to be his wife? On a good note, he had no interest in other women or wanted to take on concubines or a second wife.

You two walked towards your small lodge home in the Honshu region. Susano’o always changes back to his normal form and appearance when he’s alone with you or those who were considered his family from the Shinto Temple. It’s very rare he would socialize with humans and it’s against the rules for you and him to actually talk to humans.

He was very affectionate, but mostly it’s him holding you in his lap and talking in your ear about his passions with the sword. You loved listening to him and falling asleep soundlessly on him. You always woke up being suffocated by his big arms holding you in place.

As the two of you returned, you turned to your loving husband and asked him the question that had been bothering you. “Susano’o-san, why did you ask me to be your wife? Am I really your type? Sometimes it feels like our personalities are different,” you felt a sting of embarrassment stir in your lower abdomen waiting for him to answer.

His face turned serious as he stopped what he was doing— sharpening his sword as soon as you two returned. His mouth gaped and you stood frozen a few feet away from him. “I never felt more like myself around someone who understands me. What’s better than not having the sword goddess with the sword god? So of course, you’re my type in every way possible!” One of his hands cupped one side of your cheek.

“What if I said no to your proposal?” You were acting innocent and he gave you a puzzled stare.

“I don’t think I would’ve taken no for an answer,” his response made your heart beat faster as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Loki

You loved him; everything about him. Even accepting his weird side. Was it normal? No. He used to tell you he had a massive crush on Brunhilde before you came along and cured him. Massive? Why would he tell you that? Loki normally wasn’t honest about such things regarding his feelings. You had wondered if he was toying with you once again.

You weren’t a goddess of trickery so you had no idea how you made him move on and treat you as his woman. You have always liked him since childhood. Yet, it turns out he had a thing for the Valkyrie woman and you never knew about it. A part of you was happy he had used you as a stepping stone to move on from Brunhilde— someone who would’ve never liked him back. You wanted to believe you weren’t a rebound, but the doubts were still there. He doesn’t mention her and only pays attention to you mostly.

He even gets jealous of other men who were guards of Asgard that compliment you. You wondered what made him like you. You weren’t anything like Brunhilde at all. She was brave and cold towards others. You were quiet, shy and very observant of your surroundings.

You were fixing up one of the gowns Loki had gotten you. It had a bad tear in it and you wanted to fix it up and wear it for him. You were using a sewing machine before Loki barged into your room. “Where were you? Thor said you didn’t appear at the main hall to greet some of our guests.” Loki saw you holding the gown in your hands. It was all torn up and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“What happened? I’ll get you anoth— actually, I’ll fix it.” Loki started to feel bad that the gown he got you had a tear in it, and you didn’t make an appearance with him to the meeting with some important gods of the pantheon.

“One of the cats got spooked when I entered my room and had accidentally ripped the dress a bit that was hung up while running out of the room. I wanted to fix it and wear it… for you.” You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Loki was embarrassed realizing he was the cat and fell speechless for a moment. Why did you want to fix such a thing that he found in the commoner’s section of the palace? He didn’t want to tell you that but a deep part of him felt saddened you were going through such lengths for this dress he got you.

“Why not wear something else?” He grabbed your hands but you shook your head. Loki was puzzled for a moment but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

He grabbed one of the needles and attached the string to it. He was using magic to sew it up quicker than the machine.

“Done. Are you happy?”

“One more thing before I put it on and be yours for the night.” You nodded. Weren’t you already his? Loki had thought but didn’t say anything.

“Am I really your type? Like wouldn’t everyone there find me… too different to be with you?” You brought the dress up to your face to cover your embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t be going to such extreme lengths to keep you with me if I didn’t like you. I’d prefer you like this and not anything like me. Now, put this on and it’s not for one night. You mean more than that to me,” he lifted your chin up with his index finger.

You nodded gleefully and happy with his answer. You were certain he was telling the truth.

Qin Shi Huang

You were his empress, named and married to him. Despite his reluctance in wanting to marry anyone before he met you— a hard-headed woman who didn’t want any man to sway you. You fought against his army to survive. He was conquering lands and is the emperor and king of the Qin dynasty period of China.

You couldn’t tolerate him in the beginning. He liked ruling and ordering people around. However, you didn’t care who he was. Royal or commoner, everyone was the same to you. Zheng saw you as someone he wanted and desired. It felt impossible for him to obtain despite your reluctance and hard-headed nature.

“I heard you were giving the maids a bit of a hard time earlier,” Zheng walked into your shared room with a curious look on his face despite the blindfold. He was right but also had it wrong. You overheard them talking about how they wanted to be his mistress despite he was yours. It’s not uncommon for imperial rulers to have multiple wives, consorts or mistresses when the man is bored. You had torn down Zheng’s proposals to be his woman many times. He still never gave up but something in you snapped at those maids.

Chasing a man who is already married? How disrespectful. “Sorry for my behaviour, they said some things I didn’t like.” You muttered before turning your head away from him in embarrassment. You were trying to conceal your face from him.

“They upset you? Shall I have them punished—"

“N–No, not at all!” Your voice must’ve squeaked when he suggested punishment. Qin was oblivious to what others felt about him, but his eyes were only glued to you.

Qin walked towards you before forcing your face to look up to him. He took his blindfold off since you two were alone. He was going to speak once again to not let others get to you.

Your insecurities have been eating at you lately and you spoke before he did. “Zheng… am I really your type?” You were flustered but he was not.

“Ha, what? My type? What does that suppose to mean? I just like what I see and if I want something, I’ll do whatever in my power to achieve that. Is that a perfect answer for you, my empress?” He leaned in to call you his empress. Your heart must’ve jumped to your throat. You had no idea what to say to that. He wanted you for a long time and now he has you?

You were satisfied and sighed showing how weak you were in front of him. Only he was able to get you this flustered and feeling vulnerable around him. He loved it and loved making you a mess during private times.

Apollo

Being the wife of Apollo came with a lot of work. Previously you were just a lower-ranked deity of the Greek pantheon that served the Olympus Palace. Apollo didn’t care that much about your existence in the beginning, but it bothered him that you weren’t into him or swayed by his beauty. It dented his ego and turned him into someone who chased you and not the other way around.

Oh, how you miss the old days of being someone who wasn’t very important to anyone. You were quiet, shy and liked to read on your own without being bothered. You were a deity of knowledge and wisdom. You liked history and watching over humanity to learn about their existence. Your whole purpose was to learn and expand your knowledge. Why or how did Apollo come to like you? It was a mystery to you.

You hated the women he used to surround himself with constantly. Not because you were jealous, they were constantly fawning over him and melting in the halls in his presence. It made you uncomfortable how they talked about him a lot when all you cared about was the library and archives. You never cared about getting to know the other gods at the Olympus palace, but maybe because of how different you were made the sun god fall for you.

Apollo had followed you into the archives numerous times considering he was also the God of Philosophy and wanted to get to know the woman obsessed with knowledge. Was he that fascinated with you? He would comment about how your beauty exceeds others and had asked for your hand in marriage. You told him no unless you were the only one which you had hoped he’d leave and decline your request. However, he accepted it. Were you surprised? Yes. He had to give up some part of him just so he could have you to himself. He hasn’t touched any other woman other than you since.

This brought you to wonder why you? Were you his type? What even is his type? He always told others you were his wife. It’s been several years since then. You had lost count. He was busy with many things regarding the Greek pantheon. Whenever Zeus asked him to do something, he was quick to his feet to do it.

You loved him and it took time to realize it. Apollo was deeply in love with everything about you in the beginning. You were sitting alone while reading in the library thinking about your husband. “Why are you still here? It’s late.” You heard Apollo’s voice near the entrance of the room from behind. Oh, it was late? You didn’t say much but closed the book and smiled. Immediately Apollo knew something was wrong and walked over to you to see what you were doing. He picked up one of the books that were lying in front of you on your desk. Romance novels? You never read fiction. You always preferred research.

“I didn’t take you for being into this sort of thing?” he placed the book back down on the desk. You weren’t embarrassed in all honestly. He was someone that was easy to open up to.

“I’m just curious, humans that have written these books over the years must’ve experienced or strongly desire the connection with someone… am I someone you wanted that connection with? Sometimes I feel like… I’m not your type.” Your question made Apollo reach for your hands and hold them.

He hummed, “there’s no such thing as being my type. My type is someone who I deem worthy of my love. What a rhetorical thing to ask, but I can’t deny the connection I felt for you, in the beginning, was something more deep than a simple desire. Did I want you? You already know the answer to that but since you like the comfort of hearing it from me, then yes, I was very interested in you from the start.” His response had you feeling weak for him more.

“Let’s head to bed, or do you want me to keep you awake?” He leaned in your ear as one hand cupped your left cheek.

You weren’t going to get much sleep that night and you were right.

Note: part 2 has no ETA release date. May take a day break unless I get a request that piques my interest.

[officialcharactersimp]

'Tis But A Flesh Wound

Summary: reader comes back from a mission and they’re hurt so bucky helps them to clean up their injuries, and then they just like stare at each other, confess their feelings or sum, and then they fuck 😎, [also reader gets real sleepy and Bucky thought they were only into girls]. thanks to @h1ghtodeath for your help in brainstorming! A/N: I said I'd post today and it's (checks time) 11:55, so I've got 5 minutes to spare! Also this is what happens when I write when I'm sleepy! Reader is sleepy! WC: 2.1k of fluffy smex

CW: NSFW!! 18+!!; soft smut; mention of injury; you could argue slight somno if you really really wanted to?; k that's it.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Bucky says, one hand around you as he helps you into your bathroom.

“It’s fine, Bucky, really,” you say, trying to get him to let you walk on your own to no avail. He shakes his head.

“You look like shit, y/n,” he says bluntly with a hint of a smile.

“Thanks,” you reply with your own hint of a smile. He (in all his super-solider glory) picks you up and sets you on the counter, opening one of the cabinets after.

“Where do you keep your medical supplies?” he asks, closing that one and opening another cabinet.

“Bucky, I can take care of it myself,” you tell him, moving to get up and get them yourself.

“Nah-ah-ah, y/n, keep your cute little butt on the counter and tell me where they are,” he says firmly. You feel heat rising in your face and sit back down.

“In the bottom left one, middle shelf,” you sigh, feeling like a stupid middle-schooler for your blush. That’s just how Bucky is, he’s not flirting with you. Well, at least, he’s not flirting with you any more than he does every single human on the planet. It’s just Bucky. You shake your head, trying to stop blushing by the time he turns back to you. You must succeed, because he shows no sign of a reaction to it. He sets the supplies on the counter next to you, grabs a stool, and takes a seat in front of you.

“Alright, now, le’me see that leg,” he says. You put your leg up for him to see, and after a moment he wets a washcloth with water. You wince a little while he cleans it of dirt and debris, but when it comes to the alcohol, you flat-out hiss at the pain. He gives an apologetic but amused grin at the sound, hesitating for a moment but knowing it will be better for everyone if he just gets it over with. He packs it with ointment, covers it, and wraps your leg firmly, then looks up at you.

“How’s that feel?” he asks. You nod.

“It feels good. Thanks,” you say. He smiles and stands, not thinking about how his seating arrangement means when he stands, it’s between your legs and uncomfortably close. You look at him, finding him staring straight back.

“Sometimes I really wish you were into guys,” he sighs, then starts to back up.

“Wait, what? You think I don’t like guys?” you grab his arm, keeping him in place to make sure you get your answer.

“I mean, with your ogling over Natasha all the time, I just thought…” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck with the arm you weren’t holding onto.

“Everyone ogles over Natasha,” you point out. “Including you.” He smiles a bit at that. “But, wait, why do you wish I was into guy—oh,” oh, you halt yourself at the realization. “You couldn’t mean that you—” you turn red.

“That’s exactly what I mean, sweetheart,” he says, his cheeks turning a little red. You feel yourself heating up and hope he can’t notice. “But don’t worry, y/n, I know we’re just friends and all,” he says, and you shake your head, sliding your hand down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his own, smiling a little shakily.

“We don’t have to just be friends,” you say quietly with a squeeze.

“We don’t?”

“Nope,” you pop the P as you speak. “I like you, too. I just never thought you would like someone like me,” you shrug.

“Don’t say that,” he says, picking up your chin with his free hand. “You’re amazing just how you are. I promise,” he says, leaning in for a soft, gentle, timid kiss. After the momentary surprise wears off, you kiss him right back, closing your eyes and leaning into him. You squeeze each other’s hands tightly as his other arm finds its way to the small of your back. You bring yours up to rest on his chest as you both deepen the kiss. Soon both of you are using both hands to explore, still gentle and slow, neither of you going further than the other, kissing and touching and breathing against each other. It’s only when he starts to get hard that he pulls back with an apologetic grin.

“Bucky—“

“Don’t worry, y/n, I know you just got back from a mission. You’re exhausted. Not that I would expect for you to—“

“We’ll just take it easy then, huh?” you ask, pulling him back to you.

“Hey, hold on. You sure you want this?” he asks, his eyes searching yours methodically. You nod.

“Yes, Bucky, I do, please,” you grab onto his shirt tightly. He grins.

“Well, I can’t argue with that, sweetheart. But we’ll take it nice and slow,” he says, hands finding their way under you to lift you into his arms and take you to your bed. He sits down, you straddling his lap, and kisses you. You bury your face in his chest and begin rocking your hips against his crotch gently. It’s been awhile since you’ve been with another person, and this is already much better than humping your pillow (which never really gets you off anyways). You let out a soft, breathy moan into him and his hands come up to your waist, gently guiding your movements.

“Bucky…” you say gently.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he says, and you tug at the hem of his shirt. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “Want more now?” you nod and lean back to allow him to take off his shirt. You take the opportunity to get yours off as well, and while you’re admiring his chest and abs, he manages to get both of your pants off. Now you’re straddling him still, but the only thing between your dripping core and his very hard member is two thin layers of cotton. You feel yourself heating up again and look away. Once more, he tilts your chin up to look at him.

“None of that, love,” he says, kissing you gently. “Just keep doing what you were doing.” His hands find their way down to their hips and help you find your rhythm again. “That’s it,” he praises gently, groaning. Both of you are starting to breathe harder now, and the fabric between you is soaked through. Still, however thin and useless the barrier, it represents something. You keep grinding down on him, his grip on you growing tighter, both your sounds building, until finally he pulls back a bit and looks at you.

“You’re sure?” you ask one last time.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes,” you nod. Slowly, you both lift up and remove your underthings. You sit back onto his thighs a bit, looking down between you.

“Too big?” he smirks.

“Don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But it is big. And it’s been awhile since…” you trail off. He nods.

“Me too. Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he says. “Just tell me if you wanna stop or need something, okay?” he kisses your forehead and you nod in agreement. Slowly, he grips your hips again and guides you to hover just above him, then uses one hand to rub his tip against you. You flat-out whine at the sinsation ((an actual typo I made and then left in)), earning a chuckle. “You like that sweetheart?” he asks. You nod. “You ready to feel me filling you up?” he says in a low voice that makes you shiver. After another nod, he begins guiding you down, filling you slowly until you’re settled back down on his lap. Both of you sigh deeply in relief. “I hope you feel as good as I do, sweetheart, cuz holy fuck,” he whispers.

“You can say that again,” you agree with a breath of laughter. “Wanna move,” you say, squirming a little.

“Alright, darlin’, go ahead,” he says sweetly, and you begin to rock your hips again. His low, sinful groans fill your ears and only encourage you. He uses his hands on your hips to start to move you a little more up and down with your rocking motion, and oh god, it feels good. You let out a little whimper. “You’re a quiet one, huh?” he asks, no malice in his voice.

“Helps me focus on how good it feels,” you confirm his suspicion.

“Alright with me, darlin’,” he says. “Just makes every sound you make mean more,” he smirks. You laugh a little and nod.

Bucky, on the other hand, is far from quiet, but it’s not at all like some of the over-zealous, obviously fake sounds you’ve heard in porn or through walls. It’s genuine, low, husky grunts and moans that only serve to turn you on more. His vocalness is to him as your quietness is to you, and you revel in it, drinking every sound he makes.

He can tell that, even if you’re not a moaner, your breath says it all. And this close to you, with his forehead pressed to yours, he can hear the tiny little sounds that barely make it out of your throat when he does something right—the way your breath hitches and your gasps rub your vocal chords, the way you sigh, the way you whimper so softly he’s not always sure he heard it—he revels in it, drinking in every sound you make.

He can tell the mission and the exhaustion is catching up to you when your movements begin to slow and your head leans down onto his shoulder. He smiles, enamored, and leans to whisper into your ear.

“Wanna stop and go to sleep, sweetheart?”

“No,” you murmur. “Feels good. ‘M just tired,” you tell him.

“Want me to take over?” he offers, and you nod against him. He feels you giving him more control, not quite going limp, but not really focusing on your movements either. His grip becomes firmer as he begins to both move you and thrust up into you gently, letting out a groan that rumbles in his chest and reverberates in yours. “So good for me, honey, so good,” he says, and you hum a little at his praise.

Eventually, he leans back against the headboard so he can pull you up a little while letting you lean on him. Now, he’s able to thrust up into you better, and the weight shift means he can hold your hip with one hand and use the other to slide between your bodies and play with the sensitive bundle of nerves just above where your bodies are connected. He smiles when he hears the way you gasp, then whimper just a bit.

“Where do you want me to come, sweetheart?” he asks you.

“Inside…” you murmur. “I’m on the pill.”

“Aww, you wanna feel my nice warm load fill you up?” he coos. You nod.

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you say against his shoulder.

“Alright. I can do that for you, darlin’. You close?”

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“Good. Wanna make you come first,” he says, angling his hips to hit inside you just right and rubbing your bundle of nerves just so. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, hips bucking as you squeeze your hands on his shoulders. You whine high in your throat when the wave first washes over you, then dissolve into gasps and sighs as you ride it out. Bucky lets himself go as soon as he knows you’re coming, holding onto you tight and burying himself all the way in you as he groans loudly, burying his face in your neck. The two of you ride out your ecstasy together, holding tight and breathing in every moment, and when you’re finally done, Bucky lifts you off of himself and carries you to the bathroom.

“Wanna go to sleep,” you complain.

“I know. But you gotta pee and let me clean you up, y/n. You’re in bad enough shape already without getting an infection,” he says, kissing your forehead and then setting you down on the toilet. Begrudgingly, you comply, going to the bathroom and then letting him clean your thighs and core with a washcloth. “See? That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he says, scooping you up once again and taking you back to bed.

“Actually, it was probably the worst thing ever,” you joked sleepily.

“Me making you take a piss is worse than your leg wound?” he asks.

“Yes, infinitely so,” you mutter, pressing yourself into his chest once he has you both under the covers.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he says with a chuckle. “You can hate me for it in the morning.”

“Could never hate you,” you say.

“And I could never hate you either,” he says.

[kodzuvii]

CLUB STUPID [24: yeah probably]

next [25: premarital hand holding]

PAIRING - SUNA x FEM!READER

GENRE - crack + fluff

warnings - spelling and grammar errors lol guys its 1am plz-

SYNOPSIS - Club Stupid, an anonymous podcast meant for the dumb and dumbest to send in unspoken and nonsensical thoughts about issues they face in their day to day lives and for Y/n to speak out and give her opinions and feelings. Normal feelings though, nothing romantic like how she thinks this lazy guy with questionable hair in the volleyball club is actually pretty cute.

a/n: as an executive member and proud representative of the suna simp club (jk lol idk) it is my duty, to keep my simps fed. you’re welcome. please listen to some cute wholesome shit. 

“Look at this Samu, Suna really his own breed, how does he manage to look more dead compared to how he usually looks”

“Well Tsumu, he ignored the same girl twice in the same week and also got confronted by her cousin who’s also his captain. Pretty sad if ya ask me”

The twins snickered to each other as they eyed the quiet middle blocker who stood by his locker. “Did you see his blocks today Tsumu? I was afraid I was gonna break his toothpick arms with my spikes” Osamu whispered but made it loud enough for Suna to hear. Atsumu nodded, “yeah Samu, totally lame if you ask me. Thank God Yn wasn’t watching him” he teased. “Oi,” Aran called out as he packed up his things on his back that was sitting on top of the benches inside of the boy’s change room. “Lay off of him will ya” he scolded but the pair shrugged and continued to change out of their practice clothes. 

“What’s even happening?” Akagi whispered and Riseki could only turn to him and mirror the same lost look on his face and give a clueless shrug. They both just sat back and watched the scene unfold in front of them. The twins were teasing and throwing indirect jabs and insults towards their middle blocker who looked as if he was going through an existential crisis with the dull look in his eyes. 

Suna was quiet, everyone knew that. Yet somehow in some way, everyone could feel his energy hit an all-time low. He still attended practice sure, but it was like practicing with a pole lamp. He just stood there and observed whatever was happening but even then, his mind was somewhere else. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the coach who gave him an earful about the proper attitude to be having during their practices. Did he listen though? Nah. Listening to a lecture required too much effort. He was just tired and done for the day and the anxious and nervous feeling bubbling up inside of him wasn't helping either.

Suna was stupid. He knew that. His attention span outside of the court was never the biggest and his lack of energy never helped increase his intelligence. He was never the brightest in his class, and honestly, it never bothered him that he wasn’t. Everything he learned came through one ear and left the other. He retained the information for a test but simply forgot everything once it was over. He wasn’t the brightest, and it didn’t bother him not one bit.

What did bother him was his terrible habit of being oblivious towards other people’s feelings. Maybe it was due to his lack of energy or lack of interest, but he simply never put much effort into acknowledging how people felt. Yeah, he got vibes when people had on and off days, his teammates were the twins, you HAD to notice their mood swings and take necessary precautions. It just never occurred to him that more people could enter his bubble. A bubble that revolved around himself.

However, instead of someone finding a way to enter his fragile bubble without popping it, Suna willingly left his bubble when you came into the picture. It was no secret that Suna was whipped the moment his eyes laid on you. He’s been getting clowned about it ever since the twins found out and they never let a day go by without calling him a simp.

He had no clue what type of person you would be when you entered the doors of the Shiratorizawa gym. You looked sweet and bubbly, the smile you came in with never left your face unless you’d whine to your friends or roll your eyes at them. When you stepped into the room, people just naturally gravitated towards your positive energy and your good vibe. He liked that about you. Then again he still didn’t know anything about you at the time. All he knew was that you managed to attract his attention without even directly giving any to him. Every time he tried to look away and focus on whatever was happening in front of him, his eyes trailed back to you.

For a while after camp, you kept popping back in and out of his mind. It was quite ridiculous actually. He’d be taking a drink by the water fountains and he’d look over to the hallway and suddenly the first thoughts would be ‘what if I saw the redhead again?’ It never lasted long, maybe for a split second or two before he snapped himself out of it. He’d never see you again, what was he talking about? He was just being delusional.

So you could imagine the way his mind stopped functioning the night at the train station. Suna had to pinch himself 8 times when he saw you walk out of the train doors. ‘No way’ he thought. You, out of the 7 billion people in the world, was Kita’s cousin. He remembers seeing your tired face and your short stature clad in a big hoodie and loose sweatpants with your hair tied up. You were supposed to look like a mess, why did he keep thinking that you looked so pretty? This must’ve been the higher power playing a trick on him for slacking off during practice. So annoying.

Suna could keep his cool around school. You weren’t in the same classes meaning he didn’t see you at all. So you could imagine the kind of panic that crossed his mind when Kita told the team that he’d have his cousin staying in the gym. He learned later on that you started watching practices because Kita didn’t feel comfortable with you walking home. You were nice to the team, incredibly nice actually. Your easy-going nature made it easy for you to have a couple of conversations with his teammates here and there. While you were nice to Aran and Akagi, you had a little feisty attitude with the twins (mainly Atsumu) and he couldn’t help but admire how outspoken you were. You were blunt, to say the least. That was something you and Kita had in common. But he liked that about you, how you were always free to speak whatever was on your mind and keep a conversation going. 

Suna noticed early on that you rarely paid attention to their practice. He figured volleyball just wasn’t your thing and he couldn’t blame you for that. During water breaks, he’d glance up and watch you tuck back your hair and sometimes he’d catch you scratching your temple in annoyance because of some question you couldn’t answer on your homework. You never looked up, simply unphased by whatever was happening in front of you. 

Even so, he still put the smallest amount of extra effort into his practices. Jumping a bit higher and running a bit faster and spiking the ball with more force. He insisted that it was about time he would break some of his bad habits, but even the team knew that it was a sorry excuse. Truth be told, a little part of him was just hoping that if you ever looked up from your phone or your work in your lap, you’d see him and think that he looked at least a little bit cool. 

One day, on the rare occasion that he’d be listening in class, he remembers his teacher having a discussion with the class about an epiphany. 

The feeling of a sudden or striking realization that hits an individual out of nowhere.

It was late at night where Suna hit an epiphany. You were off to Miyagi, spending your weekend with your best friend and the Twins continued to bug him about his little first-year crush even though he had asked them multiple times to drop the topic. 

Suna came to the conclusion that he liked the way you made him feel. He liked the way he felt at ease when you were around him. He liked how you were so different compared to him, but it never stopped you from forming a friendship with him. You never pushed him to ever open up to you, you listened to the bare minimum he had to say and never took his lazy nature and blunt attitude to heart. He liked annoying you, the way your face would scrunch up when he’d take your bento’s the first couple times during your first initial lunch hangouts or the way you’d puff your cheeks when he comments on your height. He liked the way your eyes lit up when the smallest things caught your attention. He took notes on the songs you said you were currently listening too or the ones that reminded you about happy memories. 

Suna especially liked seeing you smile. Especially towards him. Something about it gave him the same feeling that was comparable to the way he would feel when he would see those jelly sticks on sale at the grocery store. The way you’d roll your eyes in playful annoyance when he'd come up to you and ask to bandage his fingers even though you both knew that he was capable of doing it himself. You would tease him, a playful smile gracing upon your lips, telling him that his fingers would probably break off if you weren’t there to bandage them up. Suna liked thinking that having you wrap them up made his hands feel a bit stronger with his blocks. But you didn’t need to know that.

He remembers a specific memory that lives rent-free in his mind. He was walking down the hallway, casually strolling and taking his time to get back to class after using the bathroom and he happened to notice you heaving a tired sigh as you closed the doors to your class. You looked quite frustrated, probably because it was your art class and you had been complaining days earlier about how creatively drained you were.

 Suna must’ve been looking at you for a moment too long because the moment your eyes met, he felt something tug at his chest by the way your eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Despite being under a little bit of stress, the same smile he grew to enjoy seeing made its way onto your lips and you waved to him excitedly before running up and rambling off about how much your class was pissing you off.

You two eventually got in trouble for skipping the whole period after being too caught up in your conversation. Suna thought it was worth it though.

After scrolling through his phone, listening to Atsumu’s obnoxious lovey-dovey playlist, and inevitably searching “how to know if you like or like like a girl” (there's a difference, he swears) on google. 

He came to his epiphany.

 Maybe before, when he barely knew you and you never knew him, maybe he was just infatuated with the idea of you. 

But it was different now, He liked you.

And that scared him.

It scared him how vulnerable he felt. Suna’s reserved and quiet nature gave him a hard time to open to others. Not that he really cared if he was being honest. He simply had the mindset that no one needed to know everything there was to his existence. Everyone eventually leaves anyways, what was the point?

When it sank into him that he liked you, it confused him endlessly. You never wanted to get out of his head and sooner or later he found himself doing the smallest things for you. The little black silk band was always on his wrist and if it wasn’t on his wrist, it would be tucked away in his pockets. Not to mention that he kept one in his pencil case for good measure. The bandaids inside in his backpack were sealed away in a ziplock bag just in case you ever got hurt because he knew you were a bit clumsy. He found himself keeping his eyes open for little souvenirs and trinkets that looked like something that you’d like wherever he went. 

At first, he thought that he just wanted to upgrade you from friend to best friend. Maybe this was a friendship that he had just been deprived of since his world revolved around constantly meaning to improve in volleyball. Yes, he did find comfort in the friendship he grew with you, but sooner or later he realized that he wanted more. The thoughts of holding your hand slipped into his mind and sooner or later hugging you from behind and resting his head on top yours flowed in followed by taking you back by peppering your smooth and soft cheeks with kisses. That wasn’t something that best friends did.

Kita was right about how his logic of ignoring you to suppress his feelings was stupid and that the worst things that could happen were that he’d get rejected. But he didn’t want to face the chance of him getting rejected, he’d like you for so long and he learned during his time spent away from you that he didn’t want to just stop talking to you. Suna knew himself, if he got rejected then he’d distance himself away from you and never talk to you ever again because the embarrassment would eat him up. 

He didn’t wanna lose you for that. He wasn’t ready. 

What a coward. 

He just really hoped you liked the flowers and read his note, he thought anything was better than a stupid “I’m sorry” text.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Hurry up, I need to lock up the gym” Kita’s voice echoed throughout the walls as he stepped into the changeroom. Suna looked up from his phone, taking one last glance at your ‘see you soon :P’ text before shutting it off and shoving it into his pockets. As everyone began to leave one-by-one and bid their goodbyes to each other and their captain. The twins however didn’t leave until they both gave Suna a teasing punch on both of his shoulders. Suna only glared at them before proceeding to make his exit as well. 

Kita stopped Suna before he could exit and the look on his face seemed rather serious. With his voice low, Kita simply said “She needs to be back by 7. If she comes home hurt in any way, I’m benching you” he said sternly and that was enough for him to feel his skin crawl under his tracksuit jacket. Suna nodded, understanding that he really wasn’t kidding and that he definitely bench him. 

Kita turned around and opened the door for them both to leave the changerooms. They walked together side-by-side and from a distance, he could see your short figure walking up to both of them. You looked different today, your hair was sitting on your shoulders and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses he was yet to see was sitting on the bridge of your nose. You were clad in your uniform with an oversized pink knit cardigan overtop. Was that a new cardigan you were wearing? He’s never seen it before either. 

Kita smiled at the sight of you skipping up to them and he watched you two exchange high fives and he gave you a brief little speech about staying late. You nodded along and Suna stood by and watched Kita ruffle your hair making you whine cutely. 

He wanted to do that.

You waved goodbye to your cousin and Kita looked at Suna and gave him a firm nod before turning back and making his way towards the gym doors. You turned back and faced Suna, your hands behind your back as you made your way towards him with a warm smile. “Hey there” you greeted and stood in front of him, looking up so you could look at him clearly. Suna couldn’t help but look at you weirdly, why were you acting as nothing happened? Shouldn’t you be upset with him? “Hi, let’s go?” god, why was he so forward. 

You hummed and shook your head, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “do you not wanna go anymore? I can drop you off if you want-” You rolled your eyes, “I don’t see you for a week and you’re already trying to get rid of me?” you questioned and narrowed your eyes at him. Suna felt his heart wrench as your lips pouted. 

He shook his head, “n-no” he stuttered. Your eyes perked up and you watch his cheeks heat up (potentially from embarrassment, but you're not going to assume) and look away. 

You chuckled and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to follow behind you. What made you so bold today? Probably from the unexpected pep talk you had with Goshiki that morning.

“You don’t need him Ln-senpai! If he thinks he can just look over you and all your greatness and beauty and not acknowledge how beautiful you are and how your very presence graces this dull world then send his ass to KFC! You are a woman senpai! A beautiful woman who deserves everything. Not a value menu that has a 20% off discount!”

Did his speech make sense? Sure. You’ll take it over Tendou’s “cut his dick off if he does you dirty queen” text message sent with the confetti effect on imessage followed by a bunch of knife emojis that was honestly more threatening rather than comforting.

You pulled him out of the gym and Shin gave you a look before shaking it off and locking up the gym doors. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the twins sending winks your way before snickering and walking off. You rolled your eyes and stopped when you reached the doors of the school. 

You turned around and faced Suna who looked very lost and confused. “Let’s not go to the convenience store today, let’s go somewhere else,” you say. Suna nodded slowly, “okay? Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

Just then, you lifted up your other hand and it was only then that Suna noticed you carrying a small pink lunch tote. You let go of his wrist and tucked some strands your hair behind you ear, “we haven’t had lunch together in a week and you had a meeting today again so we couldn’t do anything today either and well..” you trailed off and looked up at him and shrugged, “I figured we could make up for lost time” you muttered. 

Suna felt his chest tighten, not only because you were absolutely adorable and it was making him lose his mind, but it almost seemed like you were the one trying to apologize to him when you didn’t do anything wrong. He did.

You frowned as you looked at how subtly his face dropped. As upset as you were, you understood that he wasn’t ready to tell you whatever he was meaning to hide. He wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you understand that. A small smile creeping up on your lips, “let’s go eat at the park near my house. The one we walk by all the time. Saves you the trouble of worrying if you’re gonna get home on time or not” you laughed slightly.

Suna couldn’t say no to you, so here were the two of you now. Eating and sitting in front of the other with the bento’s you had prepared on the table. The park was as busy as it usually would be during the afternoon. The atmosphere felt warm as the sky was slowly settling into hues of orange with peaks of pink seeping through. Suna watched you happily eat the bento you had prepared and listened attentively as you told him about everything he missed during your week and you did the same when he talked about his. 

A part of him couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked in front of him. Suna was lying when he told the twins that you were a 7. You were beyond a 7 and beyond whatever scale they had given him. It was a rare sight to see you with your glasses and partnered with that oversized pink cardigan? You were adorable. 

You tilted looked up from your food and stopped mid-sentence when you saw him just look at you with what seemed to be a fond look in his eyes. But you could’ve just been mistaken, maybe you need to have your prescription checked again. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked. At the sound of his name, Suna blinked snapped back into reality and was met with your concerned look. “W-what?” You chuckled, “you zoned out Rin, everything okay?” you asked.

Rin.

He liked the way his name rolled off your lips. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine, sorry. This is really good by the way, I didn’t think you could cook” he said as an attempt to change the subject. You rolled your eyes but you looked away. “As much as I want you to believe I’m some great chef, Granny helped me with most of it” you confessed sheepishly. 

He chuckled and poked the sausage that was cut up into a little octopus with his chopsticks, “Well, you did tell me that you burned rice once so maybe I thought too highly of you to make a full meal” he teased. You scoffed and grabbed his bento, “if you’re not gonna appreciate the chef then you don’t deserve the food” you huffed. Suna rolled his eyes and grabbed yours, “guess I’ll have to eat yours then” he said and shoved some rice into his mouth. Your jaw dropped at his actions, “Hey!”

As the day went on, you both began to feel at ease and comfortable once again with each other's presence. The harmony that flowed around between you two was coming back and was settling into its familiar rhythm. You two continued to chat as if nothing happened. Laughing at anything and everything you found remotely hilarious under the sun. Suna felt warm. He was here, with you, and everything felt okay. With both your bento’s empty and tucked neatly away into your lunch bag and the sun settling down and giving a wake-up call for the stars to come out, it was about time for Suna to bring you home.

The walk back to your place was comfortable. There was no tension in the air or any awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was simply peaceful. You were walking beside him and rambling on about something that had happened to you in class that day. It was slightly cooler and the winds were colder and he had noticed early on that you kept pulling at the ends of your cardigan at an attempt to get some more warmth from it. It would’ve just been rude for him to let you be cold, Kita would kill him if you got sick.

It took you by surprise to see Suna slipping off his volleyball jacket and shoving it into your hands. He was wearing a hoodie under it anyway, he didn’t mind. A part of him was just curious about how his jacket would fit you too and what kind of fool would you be to reject an oversized jacket? It was just extra points that happened to be from the boy that you liked.

Suna nodded along to what you were saying, but he couldn’t help the sudden urge to just grab your hand out of his system. You were walking so close to each other. Your shoulders kept brushing past and your hands were right there. 

But with the events that happened this past weekend, he didn’t wanna overstep any boundaries. He was still too cautious that he would mess up and make you upset all over again. With the thought of his actions, Suna suddenly felt a little ball of guilt eat him up. He never stopped feeling bad about what he did. Kita’s words rang through his head, he needed to learn how to communicate better and not deal with everything all on his own. Maybe he really was a coward for letting such a dumb fear eat him up.

In the midst of your talk about how much you despise your math class, you turned to look at Suna and saw how troubled he looked. He didn’t even look like he was listening anymore and seemed to be having some sort of internal battle with himself. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and grabbed his wrist to stop walking. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern lacing the tone of your voice. You both never really brought up what had happened. Maybe you were just too caught up in having a good time but you were honestly content with the reasons he gave you. If he wasn’t ready then he wasn’t ready. 

Suna however felt like he owed you so much more than his apology that he already struggled to explain. 

Suna stared down at you for a moment, the unreadable expression on his face that only made you more confused. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound to be heard was the wind blowing by and the trees rustling.

Nothing would have prepared you for the way he turned around and pulled the arm that was holding his wrist and pulling you into his chest. His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he held you just a little bit tighter. He was a bit stiff, but you couldn’t put that against. He wasn’t the type of person to initiate things like this.

“I’m sorry”

Your body froze, something about his tone was different. It was vulnerable.

You stayed quiet, letting yourself relax slowly in his hold.

“F-fuck, I’m really sorry. I said I wasn’t good with words right? S-so I’m trying to explain now because you deserve it but I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset at all, I was just caught up with myself and I didn’t consider what I was doing to you. You didn’t deserve that. I like being around you and I’m sorry” He pulled away and one of his hands dropped to your waist and fiddled with the material of his jacket. You watched as his free hand dug deep into his pockets and you watched him pull something out. 

“It’s kind of pathetic if you ask me and it’s also kind of ugly but-” he grabbed one of your arms and dropped the object into the palms of your hands. Your eyes widened at the little paper craft,

It was an origami strawberry.

It was small, it fit perfectly inside on the palms of your hand. You could see that he struggled with making it. The leaves were slightly bent and the tip of the strawberry was ripping off. There were lots of creases all in the wrong places and even the seeds were drawn on. 

But it still melted your heart. 

“I read somewhere about 1000 paper cranes for a wish and well, cranes are kind of hard and I didn’t have enough paper to make 1000 and-god this is so embarrassing-” he muttered the last part but gained enough courage to look up at you and meet your eyes. Your eyes were soft and patient. “I wished that you wouldn’t hate me. Or that, this wouldn’t y’know...make everything all weird between us. I like you-or well uh- being around you at least and I-I know you joke about it all the time but please don't-” 

Suna paused when he felt you wrap your arms around his waist once again, hugging him back but just a little bit tighter. The small confession not even going through your mind because your attention was too focused on the way his words were making you melt. 

“You’re an idiot” you mumbled into his chest and hugged him a bit tighter. Your words made his stomach drop, but that feeling went away when you pulled back and looked at him with a smile. A smile that said you understood. 

“I’m never gonna force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me” You repeated but this time it felt different, it felt warmer. 

“I’m never gonna hate you. I know how you are Rin, you’re not good with your words and I get that. You could've sent me a text but you didn’t. You went out of your way with the flowers and even the little note and this adorable fucking strawberry is more than enough” you laughed but you could feel your eyes watering up slightly with the overwhelming amount of emotions you were feeling all at once. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me okay? I understand. Thank you,” you smiled. Suna stared down at you. Nodding slowly and you chuckled and fell into his arms once again.

This time, he was the one who held you a bit tighter.

“This side of you is cute you know, but It’s kinda ruining your whole tsundere image you’re going for. Bet the twins would make fun of you for being this thoughtful” you whispered jokingly, making him roll his eyes and huff a quiet “shut up” in annoyance. If only you knew the pain he endured for putting up with those twins. 

You both stayed like that for a little while longer. Holding each other and fitting so perfectly in the arms of the other. If it wasn’t for your phone dinging from a text from Shin asking where you were, Suna swore he would have held you there for the whole night. 

You pulled away first and tugged his hand, “come on, Shin wants me home now so let’s get going ‘kay? Don’t want you getting benched the whole season now do we?” you grinned and walked in front of him and tugged him along. 

Somehow in some way, your fingers slipped perfectly into his.

Suna could only feel the warmth rising in his chest, his daze fixed at the sight of his hands interlocked with yours. 

“Oh and Rin” you called out, making him snap back into reality.

Suna hummed, looking right back at you.

“Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Text me when you get up in your room safe”

You turned around to him with a quizzical expression before letting out a chuckle, “I’m in front of my house Rin, I got here in one piece” you said and motioned your free hand towards yourself to prove that you were indeed, uninjured. Suna rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, “you’re clumsy remember, you might fall or something” he muttered and looked away.

You grinned and squeezed his hand, “Awe, look at you caring for me and my wellbeing. My ears might be deceiving me but it sounds like you’re in love with me” you teased and swung your hands together back and forth.

Suna huffed, his mind not properly functioning when the words fell out of his mouth.

“yeah probably”

Simultaneously, his eyes and yours widened and you both froze. 

Both you and Suna blinked at each other twice. Your eyes looked down at your hands that were still interlocked and looked up at his face that was fully drained of any colour. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and Suna began to question the very point of his existence.

“W-what?”

“Uh-”

“Y-you said-”

“A-ah I-”

“Oi!” you both jumped and instinctively Suna pulled you closer to him. You looked at up him briefly before turning around to see Granny waiting by the gate with an impatient but also teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s almost 7:30 Yn-chan! You almost missed bingo night! Kiss ya little friend goodnight and come in before Shin and I eat all the mochi we left for ya” she called out but you could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

“C-coming!” you yelled back. Your face was piping hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the amount of embarrassment and flusteration you were feeling at that moment. 

Granny nodded and walked back inside, and looked up at Shin who was standing with his arms crossed on the porch. Granny walked back to him with a victorious smile on her lips as she gave him a thumbs up. Granny knew what she was doing and she knew what she saw. She’s gonna call and gossip to your mother.

You gulped and took a step back and looked back at Suna. He was still frozen and his mind was racing at what just happened and he too, wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “I-I uh, I guess I gotta go?” you winced, but the tone of your voice made it sound like you were asking a question. Suna nodded, “y-yeah, goodnight I guess” he muttered as he looked away and you watched his face heat up. 

You were both so embarrassed but neither one wanted to let go of the others hand. 

Suna figured he couldn’t keep you out all night and just as he was about to let go of your hand, a sudden wave of confidence went through your veins and you just went ‘fuck it.’

You pulled his arm down towards you taking him back. His eyes widened, “what are you-” you stood slightly on your tippy-toes and kissed his cheek which made him shut up instantly. “That’s for today, thanks. goodbye.” you said frantically. 

Suna froze, too much in shock and his mind was still in the middle of trying to register what just happened and watched as you let go of his hand and covered your face furiously blushing and running off to your gate and slamming it shut.

He stared blankly at the gate door and blinked twice as an attempt to get himself back to reality. He brought his hands up to his cheeks that were on fire. His mind kept replaying the way your soft lips kissed his cheek and could feel the slightest residue of your lip gloss still on his cheek. 

Shit, you really had him wrapped around your finger. 

“Idiot” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

a/n: BYE STOP IM SO SINGLE THIS IS SAD AND I AM DEVASTATED.

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[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hi! I'm a new follower and I just binged all of your stories today! And sooooo in love!

I just want to request a story, where chishiya is madly possesive of his S/O, where he gets jealous of anyone who would touch her.

S/O is a female.

Thank youuu so much!

Of course! Thanks so much for following and reading my fics! ❤❤

Possessive | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Summary: You begin to notice Chishiya’s possessive behaviour around you when you start becoming more serious about your relationship

Type: short scenario

Word Count: 1.7k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: this is more like just a few scenarios of Chishiya being possessive. It isn’t that well written since I had to rush it a bit. I felt like I had to post something today cause I haven’t in a while, so I was a bit busy 😣

You never viewed Chishiya as the possessive type, especially when it came to relationships. The sly, manipulative character seemed to convey the vibe that he wouldn’t care less about who his significant other talked to or hung out with. But of course, during the first few weeks of dating him, you began to notice that your assumption was completely inaccurate.

It started with small gestures, like pulling you closer to him subtly when you were hanging around the pool area, or keeping a strong grip on your hand when walking down the hallways of the hotel together. You always thought it was him just being a good boyfriend, but over time you began to think otherwise.

Chishiya became more clingy towards you, both in public and private. Sometimes he would not allow you to leave his side at all, which always ended in a complaint from you. Even when you rolled your eyes and tried to walk away from him anyway, he would just grab you by your waist and pull you back to him, giving you a quick glare to warn you.

In private, like when you were in your shared room together, he always hid your shirts from you so you would be forced to wear one of his white t-shirts. He would become all happy and giddy when you saw you in his clothes, wrapping his arms around you like a little koala and not letting go for hours. There would be some nights when you would have to pry his arms off from your torso, as he simply refused to let you go.

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

One night, you both were sitting in a booth together outside around the pool area. Most of The Beach’s residents had made their way to bed, so it was just you and Chishiya having a few drinks together with the occasional small group of people walking nearby.

Chishiya had his lips against yours, moving slowly and intimately as he held the side of your face with one hand and rubbed the bare skin of your waist with the other. You were having a heated make out session, just enjoying being in each other’s presence without being disturbed by anyone.

“Chishiya,” you breathed out as you broke the kiss, making Chishiya pout unhappily. “Let’s head inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

Chishiya smiled and shook his head at your suggestion. “Can we just spend a few more minutes here? There’s too many people inside and just want some alone time with you,” he asked, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and lightly nipping at the sensitive skin. You winced as he kissed and bit along your neck and collarbones.

“I want to see Arisu. He said he wasn’t feeling too well today and I want to check up on him,” you said, pulling Chishiya away from your neck by his shoulders. Chishiya held a frown on his face.

“Why do you want to see Arisu? I’m right here, you don’t need him,” he groaned in an annoyed tone while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You pulled a sarcastic face and rolled your eyes.

“Yes I know, but I’m just worried about him, that’s all,” you insisted, pushing your hand underneath Chishiya’s chin and pressing your thumb against his lips lightly.

Chishiya gazed lovingly into your eyes as you traced your thumb across his cheek, closing his eyes in content as the feeling of your hand on his skin. “You’re so pretty,” you praised, giving him a short peck on his nose, making him chuckle slightly.

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

A more prominent incident that conveyed his possessive personality was when you were in an executive meeting together.

You were a higher ranking member of the militants, so you were able to be present at meetings with Hatter.

Both you and Chishiya stood at the end of the large room together, leaning against the wooden wall and listening to the debate that everyone was holding. Hatter was trying to decide which executives to send to the next game, as he was expecting the game to represent a card that they had not yet able to achieve, and he wished to make sure that they were guaranteed to bring it back.

“Niragi and Aguni could go,” Mira suggested, gesturing towards the two taller men that sat at the table next to one another. “They have a 100% winning streak, so I think they’d be the best choice for a diamonds game such as this one.”

Your eyes broke from the rest of the room when you felt Chishiya’s hand run along yours, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. You looked at his face, not even earning a side glance from him. It was unusual for him to act romantic towards you in front of the executives, especially during a meeting.

“Why doesn’t Y/N join then?” you suddenly heard your name. You looked back over to the table and saw Niragi eyeing you, making you tense immediately. “She can come with us, since she too has cleared a lot of diamond games.”

As everyone turned towards you and Chishiya, you felt Chishiya’s grip on your hand tighten.

Before you could even speak, Chishiya spoke for you.

“No,” he bluntly stated.

“No?” Niragi questioned, standing up from his seat and making his way over towards you and Chishiya’s position. “Why do you say no Chishiya?” Niragi asked, pressing the barrel of his rifle towards him.

“I’m not letting her go with you, not if I’m not there.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just continued to glance between the two bickering men.

“She’s her own person, she can speak for herself,” Niragi growled into Chishiya’s face, turning towards you. Your heart stopped as he stepped towards your smaller frame. “So, what do you think sweetheart? We could really use your help.”

The way he ran his tongue along his bottom lip creepily at the end of his sentence made you uneasy. Before you could even answer, Chishiya had pulled you by your arm roughly behind him, putting himself between you and Niragi and shoving on his chest to get him away.

“Fuck off you perv,” he cursed at him, “she’s staying here. I don’t care how much you need her. I wouldn’t even let her in the same room as you or Aguni without me there.”

Niragi scoffed and gave you both an angered look before turning away. “Fine. Keep that personality up around her Chishiya, she just might get sick of you treating her like a possession you have control over.”

***********

Another incident occurred when you were both at the neon coloured bar outside in the party area.

Chishiya had to leave for a few minutes to look for Kuina, so you decided to wait at the bar for him to return, despite his protesting.

You were nodding your head to the music and sipping your drink, enjoying your time by yourself and having a nice conversation with the young lady who was the bartender. You suddenly were pulled from your thoughts when a cold hand was placed on your lower back, making you jump and spin your head around with an annoyed expression.

“Hey gorgeous,” he slurred his words, obviously drunk. “You’re looking awfully lonely. You want to come dance with me,” he pressed, running a hand through your hair softly. You swatted his hand away from your face and shuffled over in your seat to distance yourself from him.

“No thanks,” you declined politely. “I’m actually with someone, so I’m waiting for them right now,” you tried to reassure him.

He frowned and looked around the bar for someone who you might have been with. “I don’t see anyone. I’m sure your partner won’t mind if you have a little dance with me~”

His flirtatious tone made you cringe. He seemed awfully insistent. You declined once again and stood up from your seat to walk away, but you didn’t get the chance to when he grabbed you by your waist and pulled your back against his chest. “Stop being so hard to get. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

You tried to pull yourself from his touch as he ran his hands along the skin of your stomach a bit too intimately for it to be comfortable.

To your surprise, you heard a loud impact noise and the man’s grip left your body. You turned around to see what had happened to notice none other than Chishiya standing above the man on the ground, taser in hand.

“Piss off you horny dog,” he spat towards him, tucking his weapon back into his hoodie pocket. You noticed the people surrounding you watching the scene, making you feel uneasy, but Chishiya grabbed you by your hand and dragged you away from the crowd, heading towards the hotel.

After walking for a while, Chishiya turned around and looked at you, concern painted across his face.

“Oh my god, are you okay baby?” he asked, frantically checking your body for any signs of injury. “Did he touch you anywhere? I’m so sorry I left. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that, especially around all those intoxicated people.”

He was rambling as he rubbed your skin, trying to comfort you. “Chishiya,” you said, interrupting him. “I’m fine, it’s not your fault.”

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, running your hands through his hair, trying to calm him. Chishiya wrapped his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer, making you feel his warmth against you.

You snaked your hands underneath his hoodie and wrapped them around his back, scratching lightly through the material of his shirt. Chishiya sighed and pulled away from your lips, looking into your eyes.

“You’re all mine,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against yours playfully. You smiled at his statement. “You’re mine, don’t forget that.”

You nodded as he leant downwards to bite underneath your jaw. “Maybe I’m not making that clear enough,” he slyly said, making you chuckle nervously at his words. You gasped as he latched onto the skin of your neck, sucking on a single spot harshly. H.

“Chishiya, don’t!” you whispered-yelled. “You’ll leave a mark!”

Chishiya pulled away from your skin and admired the purple bruise that had formed on your neck, making him smirk. “That’s the point baby,” he said in a teasing tone. He leant back down and licked over the spot lightly to sooth the bruise.

You smiled and playfully hit his shoulder. “Idiot,” you groaned and rolled your eyes.

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // SIX

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

the masterlist  |  the playlist

read on till the end for notes!

CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains drug use and more swearing than usual. 

SAWBONES // SIX

CALM DOWN, STARBOY. 

You’d surprised yourself, honestly. 

Maybe you were cut out for politics - the way you were able to stand in line with Poe and the Generals, keep your face blank and greet the new recruits without a scowl? It was nothing short of impressive. For you and Poe to stand shoulder to shoulder, his hands clasped behind him while yours were clasped in front, and not glance down at the stupid fucking string and notice that it was probably the shortest it’s ever been entitled you to an award. Maybe a nice vacation, off base? For the entirety of this training? 

That would be nice. 

You half expected Poe to jump into her arms, like people often did when their significant others returned from a flight. He didn’t. In fact, Poe’s expression did not crack from it’s diplomatic mask. Shoulders back, jaw clenched and chin out, Poe scanned the pilots as they left their ships, and you couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of your eye. Poe now diametrically opposed who he had been in your office, his stupid smile now a faint memory. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was one you hadn’t met nor seen in person. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was hot. 

Poe’s posture elongated his spine, jutted his chest out and brought forth his collar bones. Your eyes once again traced his gold chain. 

Maybe you didn’t deserve all the praise you’d previously granted yourself as you openly ogled the man next to you. But Poe was your soulmate. It granted you an ogle pass, whether or not both parties were aware. 

The pilots had lined up, helmets off and tucked under their arms. They were the perfect image, the very epitome of what people would want to see on Resistance banners. You’d purposely not remembered their names in spite. You were the Head Medic of the Resistance - they should have to introduce themselves to you.

Leia greeted them, her words sounded garbled as your eyes met the infamous Scoria Tane. She stood tall, her long white hair in a loose french braid. Her chestnut skin seemingly unmarred with such trivial marks like pores. You felt the breath leave your chest as her eyes flitted over to meet Poe’s. No matter how brief, you still caught it. You couldn’t feel any change in Poe’s demeanor, but you didn’t want to chance glancing over to see if there was a smile on his face. No need to put salt in an already festering wound. 

“This is our head medic,” Leia introduced you. Your head turned to hers before returning back to the recruits with a small nod. You were really mucking up your air of superiority. 

Besides Scoria, there was only one other human. And he was staring at you. 

“It’s an honor to be here, Generals,” the man spoke up, his eyes momentarily leaving your figure to address Holo, Ackbar and Leia. “It seems like a large base. I don’t know about my fellow pilots, but I would love a tour.” His eyes were back on you. 

“I’m sure Commander Dameron would be more than willing to accommodate you, Commander Ancin,” Holo nodded. 

Ancin smiled slightly. “Doctor, would you have the time?” 

You had been trying very hard not to meet his gaze, but his lack of subtlety forced your hand. However, Poe had beaten you to a response. 

“She’s very busy,” he cleared his throat. “Still has to conduct your physicals and stress tests. I am more than willing to give you a tour,” his tone was clipped. 

Ancin didn’t even spare Poe a glance, and you saw Poe clench his hands from behind his back out of your peripheral vision. You desperately wanted to pause time, to knock your shoulders or nudge him with your elbow. But you couldn’t, not with the audience in front of you. 

“It’s fine, Commander Dameron. I’m sure I could spare some time,” you responded, feeling like your skin was on fire. No doubt the white of your coat further contrasted the fact that your face was also on fire. 

“Great,” Ancin switched his helmet to the other arm. “Can we begin now?” He turned to Leia quickly. “My apologies, unless there was more to be discussed?” 

Leia gave him a tight smile. “The specifics can be gone over later.”

Ancin nodded before breaking formation with his fellow pilots and grabbing your arm. “Shall we, Doc?” 

If you would’ve had the time to turn your head as Ancin grabbed you, you would’ve seen the way Poe clenched his jaw impossibly tight and watched as the Coruscant’s pilot Commander dragged you away. If you would’ve perhaps taken the time to drag your eyes away from Poe’s chest and face earlier, you would’ve noticed that since the beginning of this whole situation, Poe had been slowly dragging the pointer finger of his right hand over the base of his left pinky. 

If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to showing someone around a base you barely knew yourself. 

“I’m going to apologize in advance,” you began, subtly removing your arm from his grip. “I don’t really know the base that well either. I know hangars, cafeteria and meeting room. But only in relation to the medbay.” 

“That’s okay,” he smiled down at you. “We can figure it out together.”

You hadn’t forced yourself to memorize the names of the pilots, but hearing Ancin jogged your memory from when you had skimmed their files. You were pretty sure his first name was Cane, and if the galaxy could pick one person to represent them, it would probably be him. 

Cane Ancin was objectively gorgeous. He was tall, several inches taller than you and most likely Poe, too. His cheekbones and jawline were sharp, and you remembered bitterly that he must be ridiculously fit, because he had one of the lowest resting heart rates you’d ever seen. He was broad, and his curls rivaled Poe’s. You outwardly winced at the comparison. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. You tried not to shrug it off. 

“Nothing. Just uh, remembering all the stuff I have to do back in the medbay.” 

Cane wasn’t bothered. “Let’s start moving then, yeah?”

The two of you had continued walking for a couple of paces, Cane watching you out of the corner of his eye, not even bothering to take account of where the two of you were. 

Fleetingly, you wondered if the base would be able to accommodate both Cane and Poe’s ego. 

“Why did you want me to give you a tour?” you asked, his silent watching pushing you to the brink. 

Cane shrugged. “Is it a crime to ask a beautiful woman to show me around?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Tell me,” his voice viscous like honey. He increased his stride so he could stand in front of you, abruptly stopping your movement. Throwing civility to the wind, you openly scowled. 

“Can you see your thread?” 

You wanted to roll your eyes. Could you have a conversation about literally anything else or was the soulmate tether your whole life now? You couldn’t work, sleep, or even eat without thinking about it. You’d never piloted one before, but you were sure that you could figure out how to steer an x-wing into oblivion. Sure, you had two of the best pilots in the galaxy on base that would catch your ass in no time, but it was nice to pretend that they couldn’t. 

Cane looked you up and down slowly. You weren’t exactly sure  what  he was looking at. Your boots, black leggings and white coat buttoned up to your throat didn’t really emanate sexy, but this guy was weird. It probably did seem sexy to him. Your scowl deepened. 

“I can see mine,” he drawled. Now would’ve been a great moment for one of your infamous ‘i’m gonna be sick’  moments. “And let me tell you, I like where it leads.” 

You snorted. “Calm down, starboy. I can see mine, too.”

Cane deflated. 

“Does that actually work? Do you get people with that?” you questioned, tapping on your chin. “Even on a few shots of fire-water I still don’t think I would’ve fell for it.”

Cane didn’t stay off-guard for long - after you were done speaking, he let out a laugh and held his hands up as if to say, ‘well, I tried.’

“It does sometimes,” he said. “The addition of fire-water does seem to increase the chances, though I figured I would try it with you regardless.” 

“You pilots are always so risky,” the two of you fell into step again. The tension seemed to have dissipated instantly. “Always shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“You speak from experience,” Cane raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you know how many pilots end up in my medbay because of that mentality?” You shook your head. “Craziest beings in the galaxy, I swear.” 

“Dameron is the worst of us,” he responded, and you didn’t miss the way his expression steeled. You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Commander of the Resistance? You really trust that guy?” 

You narrowed your eyes, the words your brain wanted to speak in defense of Poe stilled at the tip of your tongue. You didn’t expect someone to join the ‘I hate Poe Dameron’ club, but as soon as it crossed your mind, you realized you weren’t even part of that club. You were in the ‘I hate loving Poe Dameron’ club. President of the ‘My soulmate is a douche but it’s totally my fault’ club. 

You could go on. 

“What’s your issue with Poe?” you asked. 

“Typical he hasn’t mentioned me,” Cane scratched his bare jaw. It made you realize you preferred stubble. “He’s just...not the guy you all think he is.” 

“Don’t be vague,” you said, annoyed. 

“The guy just...he’s not this straight-laced, hero of the Resistance. Hell, I haven’t even been here a day and I can tell the whole base fucking worships him, and for what?” 

“For being a good pilot?” you answered what was most likely a rhetorical question. “For risking his life every time he gets in that ship, getting us First Order intel and directly playing a role in saving the galaxy?” You were getting angrier by the second. Whatever past he had with Poe, you didn’t care about it. 

“Might I remind you it’s the same galaxy that you and I both live in? We all have shit we’ve done in the past. How we move on from it defines us.” You stopped yourself before saying something you would regret, revealing too much to a man you didn’t know. And honestly? You didn’t care to. 

You continued when Cane stayed silent. 

“You don’t have skeletons in the closet? If you know Poe’s, I’m sure he knows yours.” 

You turned to him, conveniently stopped outside of the double doors to your medbay. The harsh fluorescents illuminated Cane’s face, exposing the conflict and discord written all over his features. Whatever thoughts were floating in his head made you feel uneasy, as though you were teetering on a tightrope. Cane didn’t meet your gaze, instead he chose to finally notice his surroundings. 

He inhaled deeply and exhaled for longer. You waited patiently. 

“I’ll see you around for my tests, Doc.” Cane continued to walk down the hallway, and you fought the urge to point out that it was the opposite direction he needed to go. ...right?

You couldn’t dwell on your mediocre sense of direction before you heard the whoosh of air form the double doors opening and FX-7’s bulky metal frame towering over you.  Droid or not, you could feel the disapproval from the lit, annular holes in its head as they bored into your back.

“You have plenty to do,” was all the droid said before it retreated back into the medbay.

✗ ✗ ✗

  Yes, you had plenty to do. So much so that it took you up until early morning to finish. It was so early, (or late?) that you had recoiled when you’d checked the time.

But, as you were heading back to your quarters to catch up on sleep because you were in no rush to start taking vitals on the new recruits, your arm was caught on fire. 

Not literally, but it felt literal. Like every nerve ending was ripped from your skin, abraded and exposed. And it all originated from one point on your hand. You fought the buckle of your knees, desperately applying pressure to your pinky finger after loudly yelling a string of expletives. As you took another step in the direction of your quarters, the pain impossibly intensified. Somehow, your brain was able to act logically as you quickly retraced your last few steps. 

As you moved backwards, the pain slowly dissipated into a deep throb, coming from both your hand and somehow your chest? You inspected your arm, turning over at least seven times. Your medical training had never taught you, or even touched on anything related to...whatever just happened. As you retreated back to the medbay, the pain intensified again. 

“What the fuck,” you gritted through your teeth. Stepping back from the double doors, you continued forward. And for the next few minutes, you continued like that. Walking and retracing your steps, following the path that didn’t beset your body in so much agony your vision went white.  

In your course around the base, you were at a junction you’d never been to previously. To your left, the hallway led out to the runway and to your right, a dead end. However, a few experimental steps in either direction revealed that your phantom arm pain was directing you straight forward. 

Honestly, fuck the galaxy, you sized up the door in front of you. Whatever forces were at work right now, pulling your sensory nerves like strings on a marionette could fuck off. Sending you to weird parts of the base that you’d never been to (it could’ve been a common area actually, you never really explored) and sending you to a blank, durasteel door? Another healthy dose of fire shot up your spinal cord. 

“The thread is sentient,” you tried to catch your breath. “All of the past soulmates in the galaxy have joined together to kill me.” 

Rationally, there was no way you were correct but you were running on empty and had been updating the files on the pilots until you thought your retinas would burn out. Maybe this was a dream? You could definitely be dreaming. 

Shaking out your right arm, you bounced back and forth on either foot. You were going to go through this mystery door. Enter the mystery door that didn’t make your arm feel like the thread was pulling tight between your arm and torso as if to amputate it. Yes.

Before your mind could bitch out, your muscles pushed your legs forward by reflex - acting before the brain could process. Your hand pulling down on the handle, a component most doors on the base didn’t have. 

Blue. 

Your entire field of vision was met with a murky swirl of blue. The room was of decent size, maybe slightly smaller than your office. From what you could see, it looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with shelves that contained extra orange jumpsuits, helmets, blankets and clothes of all sorts. In your pursuit of orienting yourself, you disregarded the figure sitting on the ground against the wall opposite you.

 With one leg forward and the other bent at the knee, the source of the smoke dangled loosely between the fingers of Poe Dameron. 

But you didn’t realize that yet, because it was dark and hazy and you were confused and what was that smell?  The acrid fumes were coupled with an odor that was almost...sweet? No. Tart felt like the better word. Sharp and sour and sitting on your tastebuds. 

As Poe dragged on the stick in his hand, the embers that burned at the end burned brighter and attracted your eyes. Then, you noticed him. 

“Dameron?” you squinted through the smoke, trying to swat it out of your vision. “Are you seriously smoking spice right now?”

In your confusion and disbelief, you didn’t notice how the throbbing from the remnants of pain in your arm had become an amalgamation of both the lingering pain and a new, warmer sensation. Pleasure.

“I’m surprised you know what this is,” he blew out a long stream. 

You tried not to scoff. “I was a teenager once, too.” 

He was silent for a moment before lazily motioning with the hand that held the joint to the spot next to him. With a concerning lack of reluctance you’d think on later, you sat down next to him. 

“My entire left arm has been killing me all day,” he took another hit. You frowned as he blew the smoke out at you. 

“So weird that there isn’t someone on base that could do something about that,” you replied casually, but your mind was spinning. His arm was hurting too? What the hell was going on?

He shook his head, ignoring your response and offered you the joint instead. Surprising both him and yourself, you took it, rotating it in your hand. 

“Take a hit,” Poe urged. “You can turn off your doctor-mode for one seco -  are you really inspecting it right now?”

You looked at him, confused. “Um, yes? Why are you inhaling this when you don’t even know what it’s made of?” 

Poe blinked at you, albeit much slower than usual. “To get high.”

You tapped the ashes into the palm of your hand, then handed the spice back to him. His hand slowly, meticulously took it from your grip and brought it back to his lips. Rubbing the ashes with your pointer finger in your palm, you brought the fine, cerulean powder to your eyes, studying it before lightly placing your finger on your tongue. Poe’s eyes tracked every movement. 

“It’s similar to Ryll,” you noted. “An ore from Ryloth. It’s usually used medicinally, but it can be refined into some good fucking spice.”

“You’ve smoked spice?” 

You took the object in question from his grip, putting it between your lips and taking a deep inhale. Holding it, you smirked at him. You laughed while exhaling, your lungs somewhat relishing in the sweet burn you hadn’t felt in years. 

“Medical school was hard.”

“That’s…” Poe’s eyebrows twisted as he tried to find the words, “so...normal? Of you?” 

“Thanks?”

Poe leaned his head back against the wall. “You’re always the head medic, the doctor of the Resistance. You make it really hard to get to know you outside of that. Is there someone beneath the white coat?” 

You took another hit to avoid answering and Poe had no issue in continuing. 

“I had to ask that engineer you always hang out with,” he paused, thinking hard to remember Jasti’s name before giving up and continuing, “what your actual name was. The people I asked before didn’t know.” 

“Everyone calls me Doc. I don’t mind it.” 

“I do,” Poe snapped, uncharacteristically hostile. “Stars, I’ve made such an effort for you.” 

“An effort?” you echoed.

“To get to know you, to spend time with you. Maker, I even thought for a second - “ Nope. Poe wasn’t high enough to let that statement loose. 

But you were just high enough not to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, the usual weight on your chest now heavier. “I don’t know how to act when people want to get to know me. I haven’t for a long time.” 

Poe placed the joint on the ground, letting it burn out. The two of you sat in silence, slowly inhaling and exhaling the chemicals that swirled in the air. You could feel yourself becoming heavier and weightless at the same time. Your physical sense felt light, but the burden of everything else came down heavy. 

“I hate having him here,” Poe began. “Ancin.” 

“Did you know him previously?” 

Poe swallowed thickly, and you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down. The thought crossed your mind again - the sensitivity of his carotid. It would be so easy for you to find out right now, to just lean over and place a finger, or even your lips on it. That part of your brain that kept you rational and reasonable must've been short circuited by the spice because it wasn’t telling you not to find out, not reminding you of any and all consequences. For once, your brain felt quiet. 

Leaning his head back up towards you, he caught your staring but you couldn’t be bothered to look away. Maybe he was sensitive elsewhere, too. You had dated a guy from Corellia who went absolutely feral when your lips met his sternum. You wanted to find out if Poe was the same way. You wanted to place your lips on every inch of his body, test each section of skin for a quick intake of breath, a twitch, goosebumps. To feel his fingers, calloused from years of flight maneuvers and switches, testing you for sensitivity. 

In your reverie, Poe had begun to inch closer at imperceptible increments. His left hand resting flat on the ground - next to your right. His left pinky laid over your right as he leaned in, tucking some hair behind your ear to justify his proximity. His head turned, his lips now ghosting over the strip of space between the bottom of your earlobe to the joint of your jaw. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips brushing against you. 

“This better not be a dream again,” you said under your breath. 

Chuckling, Poe pressed his lips to your temporomandibular joint as you tilted your head, giving him full access. “Again?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Your filter was gone - your brain now occupied with the double assault of the spice and having Poe Dameron press kisses onto your skin. 

“We don’t have to talk,” he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of your white coat to give him more access to your neck. He sucked lightly at your own pulse point, and you sucked in a breath. 

“Sensitive?”  Stars. The irony. 

“Are you?” you bit back as you brought your hand to rest on his bicep. 

“Want to find out?” he pulled back to meet your eyes. In spite of your slow movements and cloudy train of thought, you had never felt so clear, so confident in an answer. 

You licked your lips, moistening them as your hand slid up from its place on his bicep to the side of Poe’s face, stroking your thumb lightly. Poe sighed, leaning into your ministration and tangling his pinky finger with yours. You could feel the blood buzzing underneath your skin, your sympathetic nervous system sending adrenaline and epinephrine by the gallon to account for how fast your heart was racing. 

You copied his earlier movements, pressing your lips to various points along his jaw, his neck. Testing what he liked the most. When you got to your target, you boldly licked the spot up to his jaw. Poe’s hand tangled in your hair, breath shuddering. 

“That’s a yes for you, too,” you whispered with the last remnants of air in your lungs. 

Finally, your brain rejoiced through the fog. 

You continued kissing, nipping at spots here and there. At the notch between his collarbones, Poe groaned. 

“Scoria.”

You stopped. 

Pulling away, you mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The smoke of the room now felt suffocating, not intoxicating. You felt like you were being smothered, and you were now noticing the lack of fresh air in your lungs. 

Poe’s eyes met yours, too before widening. 

Your hand left his face, your pinky leaving his. The dull ache in your arm had returned. You swallowed thickly, nodding. 

“Fuck. I’m - “ Poe couldn’t straighten out his thoughts, let alone form a sentence. Very clearly in his mind, he had known it was you kissing, sucking on his neck. Her name had just..slipped out. 

“No,” you cut him off before he could formulate some half-assed excuse you didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry. I should’ve have - I forgot about - “ You couldn’t find the words either. 

Standing, you looked down at him briefly, noting how the red thread of fucking fate bisected his torso, standing out starkly against the blue of the smoke and his button up. 

“Thanks for the spice,” you forced, before leaving the room. 

Walking down the hallway, continuing your initial course of returning to your quarters, you felt extremely sober. What else could sober you up faster than the guy whose neck you're kissing moaning out the name of another woman? 

Looking down, you quickly redid the buttons Poe had undone. 

I’m sorry? Your mind replayed the moment.  Sorry for what? Poe is yours. 

You stopped in your tracks. 

Poe was yours. Why the fuck were you embarrassed that you were indirectly kissing your soulmate? Apologizing because he was currently in the middle of wasting his time with another woman? Sure, it was girl code not to do what you had previously been doing, but soulmates were excluded from girl code. Whether or not it was indirectly (...or directly) your fault that he was with her wasn’t important. 

So, yeah. Fuck being sorry, fuck being embarrassed. You were done tiptoeing around the subject. Operation ‘Poe is my soulmate and I’m finally going to do something about it’ was a go. You couldn’t waste any more time. 

The realization that you would explode if you had to spend any more days of your life without Poe’s lips on you was completely unrelated. 

 -----

are you guys screaming? i'm screaming.

also, poe looks high af in the gif above so...i felt that it fit well. 

but what a wild rollercoaster this has been & will continue to be. I hope y'all are excited for the ride, because I am. Can't thank you guys enough for the love & support. don't be scared, share the angst with your friends!! xoxox

also!!! official sawbones playlist because i am a slut for playlists. i’ll be adding and removing, so lmk how you feel about it :) 

TAGLIST (message me to be added!)

@yayrainday @samhollandssweaters @softly-sad @rebelgeneraldameron @btillys @daydreamerinadazedworld @teaofpeach @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @fandom-addict-aesthetics @peterwandaparker @bookaholicinwonderland @roserrys @clydesducktape @heythere-mel @justrunamok @corrupt-fvcker @lets-do-get-help @agents-assemble @idocarealot @phoenixhalliwell @afootnoteinyourhappiness @gottalovethefandom @bbuckysbeardd @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce @missreyskywalker @katrynec​ @lizajane3 @shootingstarzmagick

[palettes-and-prompts]

25 Dialogue Prompts for Each Color of the Rainbow (Part 2)

Red 1) "How could anyone not like me? I'm perfect." 2) "Quick! They're coming, how do I look? Do I have anything in my teeth? Do I smell because I need to look perfect!" 3) "Wow, have you been working out, you look great!" 4) "Oh, this old thing? I just threw this on." 5) "You really think I'm beautiful?" 6) "I wasn't meant to be some little star. I was meant to be the sun." 7) "They haven't texted me since the date and it's been a week. What if they didn't like me? No, that's ridiculous, I'm wonderful. Something must've just happened to their phone." 8) "I'm going to die alone aren't I? Just me, some cats, and boxed wine. At least Real Housewives will always be there for me." 9) "They're obviously not looking for perfection because I'm right here." 10) "I'm not shopping at a thrift store, that's where poor people shop!" 11) "You had better change for the party because you're fucking high if you think I'm going to let you stand next to me while you wear that outfit." 12) "A gift? For me? Oh you shouldn't have! Oh...a book...wow...thanks. You, uh, really shouldn't have." 13) "Please be a loser somewhere else." 14) "I'm on a diet where I have to drink kale. If you value your life leave right now." 15) "I want this entire box of Kit Kats." "....the whole box." "NOW!" 16) "It's scary out there, I'm not coming with you to check out that noise." "Okay." "No! Wait, don't actually leave me alone." 17) "I am not a scaredy cat! I just don't like when things pop out at me or creep around in the dark or come within ten feet of me unless they're hot." 18) "I would never ever fall in love with you." "Okay, well, you're still holding onto me." "I just didn't want to get lost!" 19) "Wow, you're really strong. Like...really strong." "If you're that thirsty there's a water fountain right over there." 20) "God look at them. They look so good when they're sweaty. Oh fuck they're taking their jacket off." "You're drooling." 21) "Give me back the honey bun or I will scratch your eyes out." "You need to calm down." "You need to not tell me to calm down." 22) "Everyone keeps getting flowers and it's so annoying. Like, we have work to do, you shouldn't be worried about getting flowers. I hate flowers, I-" "I think there are some flowers on your desk." "Oh my god I love flowers! They're so pretty. Aww, I wonder who got them for me." " 23) "I think you're the most dramatic person I know." "That can't be true, I'm not dramatic." "You literally cried yesterday when no one noticed you got your hair trimmed like a centimeter." "It was a big difference from how it was!" "It was a centimeter!" 24) "My ideal home is one that's small but enough to have a family in." "They're such a fucking liar, their ideal home has to have mirrors everywhere, a double curved staircases so they can walk down dramatically, a maze in the backyard, a fountain in the front with a circular driveway, but then the road in is lined with trees because their dramatic and when you get to the gate it has their last initial on it." "Oh my god, you do listen to me!" "Unfortunately yes." 25) "Are you in love with me?" "What? No, I can't stand you." "You remember everything about me! You pay attention to everything I say and I can be very..." "Dramatic?" "Passionate about certain things. You hate it." "I don't hate it." "So you love it?" "We don't have to put a label on what I feel." "Yes we do. You love me!" "Fine, okay, I love you." "Really?" "Don't get all passionate right now." "I'm already planning our wedding in my mind."

Orange 1) "You're really cool, we should hang out sometime. Maybe you could watch me skateboard." 2) "You're always stressing yourself out, why don't you let me help you unwind?" 3) "It's just you, me, and this goat you told me not to get." 4) "You think hiding your snacks is gonna stop me from eating them? I'm like a bloodhound, I will sniff them out!" 5) "What do you think would happen if I snorted Cheeto dust?" 6) "Remember when you told me not to try to reach into the vending machine when my chips got stuck because my arm would get stuck in there. Well, the good news is I got my chips. Bad news is I wont be home for a while." 7) "You know how Gaston ate four dozen eggs every morning to help him get large? Okay, so that's bullshit because when I was a kid I tried to do that and I barely ate a dozen before I threw up." 8) "Oh, I'm an idiot? Because I think I'm fucking styling in these diamond studded crocs while I ride my razor scooter!" 9) "Oh, I always get a perfect score on any test I take. Everyone always thinks I'm cheating but the doctors say I've got something called an photographic memory where I only look at things once and I just remember it. Anyway, wanna see how many ants I can eat?" 10) "One time I got stung by a bee on the tongue because I wanted to see what it felt like." "Did it feel good?" "It did not." 11) "I used to think Bronchitis meant I was growing broccoli inside my lungs." "It doesn't mean that. When did you find out that it didn't mean that?" "Oh, um, like... a few days ago." "A FEW DAYS AGO?!" 12) "So, I did something." "What did you do?" "I should preface by saying I am not smart." "What. Did. You. Do?" 13) "Just shaved a cat to look like a lion with a mane." "That's so stupid, why would you do that?" "Why don't you look at the results first?" 14) "I beat all of Super Mario World and found every single secret." "When's the last time you slept?" "Last time I what?" 15) "Why are you all twitchy?" "I just mixed every energy drink from the gas station with pixie sticks." "Jesus, we're going to the hospital." 16) "I know eating cheese makes you constipated and everything, but like, how much cheese? I don't want to be constipated so what's the maximum amount I can eat without that happening." 17) "Don't freak out, but I'm in jail." "JAIL?!" "It's all a big misunderstanding!" 18) "Can I tell you something without you getting mad?" "You always ask me this and I always get mad." "Yeah, but like, maybe this time you could just...not get mad?" 19) "You are the human equivalent of the smiley face emoji." "Aww! Thank you." "It wasn't a compliment." 20) "You look like you eat sunshine and shit rainbows." "Actually I eat Lucky Charms. Well, just the charms actually with like a little bit of the lucky bit." "You're so positive it sickens me." 21) "I love Thanksgiving." "Yikes. Why?" "Because I get to have dinner with all my friends and family. There's no pressure to buy gifts or anything. We all just come together and appreciate each other." "I could put everything you've ever said on a Hallmark card." 22) "Do you know how much I love you?" "You send me every heart emoji before bed and end it with a kissy face with the words 'I love you' every night. I think I get it." "I'll start doing it every morning just to be sure." 23) "You know how in Inside Out there's all the different little people that represent each emotion?" "Yeah, I love that movie!" "Yeah, I think your Joy emotion person killed your Sad emotion person." "What? No! She wouldn't do that!" " 24) "You have to stop crying every time this scene in the movie comes up." "He thinks she doesn't love him!" "It's just Shrek. You've seen how it ends, you can quote it for fuck's sake!" "I know but he doesn't know right now!" "Oh my god." 25) "I swallowed the key to Person A's car." "Oh my god why would you do that?" "I thought it'd be funny but now I'm worried about it." "Oh now you're worried about it?"

Yellow 1) "I heard everyone survived, is that true?" "Yes, everyone's fine." "Pity." 2) "If being classy means being mean to everyone who's considered to be beneath you then I must be the classiest bitch in the whole fucking world." 3) "I don't think you're beneath me, I know you are." 4) "A piece of advice I'll give to you for free. Stay out of my way unless you'd like to be crushed under my foot." 5) "Hmm, I wonder which shoes I should wear to stomp on the dreams of others today." 6) "Don't cry on me, this jacket is worth more than your car!" 7) "Oh no, I won. Aww! And you wanted it so bad, didn't you?" 8) "You know, in duos it's usually one's the beauty and one's the brains but in our case I guess I really lucked out, didn't I?" 9) "Don't think for a second I'm interested in you, I'm only speaking to you because I have to." 10) "They took something that was mine. And now I have to kill them." 11) "I was scheduled to ruin someone's life today, but I guess I can save that for another time. Let's hang out!" 12) "I know that person, their significant other made my friend cry so I slept with their boyfriend/girlfriend and made them fall in love with me. I can't wait to be there when they tell them they're leaving them for me." 13) "You need good friends, people who will watch out for you and help you handle your problems." 14) "Listen here, you little shit, I've worked hard to get this perfect so if you fuck it up I will destroy everything you love." 15) "Oh, how cute! You think you're a threat to me." 16) "Next time you try to threaten me remember who you're dealing with. Because I don't do threats, I make promises. And when I promised I'd ruin your life I intended to keep that promise." 17) "Oh my god, here comes that insufferable bitc-Hi! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in forever, you look so good!" 18) "Oh, gag me with a fucking spoon. If I have to listen to you idiots try to talk and breathe at the same time I'm going to jump in front of a fucking bus." 19) "Move! I'll handle it just like I handle everything, with grace and vague threats." 20) "What do you mean they're in love with me? Did they say that word for word? Because you know I'm in love with them so if this is a trick it's not funny and I'll fucking kill you. Did they say that word for word?" 21) "I only have strengths I don't have weaknesses." 22) "They called me heartless? I'm not heartless! I'm nice. I'm so fucking nice. I'm going to prove how fucking nice I am and then they're going to look like an idiot for saying that!" 23) "Stop crying. You look fucking pathetic and you're not pathetic because I don't have pathetic friends. So keep your head up, bury your feelings, and act like the goddamn champion you are." 24) "Don't speak, you could make the town idiot feel like a genius." 25) "Stop acting like a loser or you're not allowed to stand next to me anymore."

Green 1) "Well, look at that, we're all alone. So, anything you wanna say to me? Anything you wanna do to me?" 2) "Of course I have sex for money, you think I'd just give all this away for free?" 3) "What do you mean I can't wear this to the funeral? It's my mourning crop top." 4) "How's my outfit?" "Hideous. You should shred it and then burn it just to be safe." 5) "Ew, what do you want?"   6) "I'm gonna need you to not stand next to me at this party, I don't want anyone thinking we came together." 7) "Does this make me look slutty?" "Not at all, it's very modest for you actually." "Ew, okay, I'm gonna go change." 8) "Why are you putting on glitter? We're going to a toddler's birthday party." "Look, if you wanna look like that that's your choice. I plan on looking like I hunt mythical creatures for a living." 9) "The robbers took everything in my house." "Yeah, but they left your clothes so what do you think that says about them?" 10) "I thought you hated the thrift store." "I did, I thought it was a very sad little place, but then I started designing my own outfit with all the decent things they sell and so now I love the thrift store." 11) "They broke up with you? You?! No, I don't think so. Come with me, we're going to fix you and you're going to show them what they're missing." 12) "They might have more money than me but I'm the one who has clear skin and the ability to not look like trash." 13) "A choker can be something that says it all. It can say 'I'm fun and I love hanging out with my friends' but it can also say 'I only have rough sex' you know?" 14) "You're not my type." "You haven't even turned around to see me." "Didn't need to. I could smell that cheap cologne/perfume from a mile away." "What is your type?" "Rich." 15) "What are you doing?" "Eating take out and watching porn." "What kind of porn?" "Bondage porn." "Oh, that kind of day, huh? Should I come over?" "No, I'll just try to sleep wit you." "You do that even when you're not sad." "Okay, you can come over." 16) "Where are you going with my keys?" "I've got to kill someone." "Okay, make sure you don't get blood on my seats." 17) "No, highlight yellow and highlighter orange are not real colors. Okay? Are you a hunter trying not to get shot or a construction worker? No, you're not. You're trying to seduce someone. So lets get rid of this monstrosity and find something that'll make your eyes look pretty." 18) "I love you very much and it's because I love you that I can say this. Please don't wear that outfit or you will embarrass me." 19) "You just kissed me." "Yeah, I did." "Why? Did I seem like I was drowning or that I needed mouth to mouth? Were you trying to kill a bug with your lips? Why would you kiss me?" "I like you. A lot." "Hahaha...wait, seriously?" "Why's that so hard to believe?" "Because I'm me, people don't like me, they just like looking at me." "Well, I like you. A lot. And if you like me maybe we could get some dinner later or something." "Okay!" 20) "Oh my god, is that a skort? I think I might vomit. Skorts are for children, not adults. Once you hit eighteen you are legally banned from wearing skorts unless you play tennis or something. Do you play tennis? No. I didn't think so. Burn that." 21) "Camo is disgusting and if I ever catch any of you wearing it we are no longer friends." 22) "Your shorts are a little too short." "Yeah? You like it?" "You're attracting a lot of attention." "But am I attracting your attention?" 23) "Oh, wow, that's a bright shade of yellow. Um, why don't we try a few different outfits for fun before we decide on that one, okay?" 24) "Hey, I came as fast as I could, where's the body?" "Actually, I called you for a--you came here prepared to hide a body with me?" "Of course I did, you're my best friend." "Aww!" 25) "I only have sex for free when I like someone, and for you, honey? It'll cost triple what I normally charge."

Blue 1) "I heard the pet store got new puppies and kittens, wanna go see them with me?" 2) "We should go ice skating!" 3) "I love having picnics with you, you always bring my favorite foods." 4) "I love spending time with you." 5) "I think I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." 6) "Are you cold? You can wear my jacket if you want!" 7) "I don't want any of that stuff. I just want you. I've always wanted you." 8) "I wonder what it's like to hug a cloud." "Your hands would go right through it." "Yeah, but I've always wanted to touch one." 9) "Is it okay if we stay a little longer?" "We can stay until close if you'd like." "I just really like looking at the fish." "I know." 10) "Could you hug me for like an hour?" "Yeah, okay, wanna watch a movie while we do that or?" 11) "We have to leave right now. The Easter Bunny is at the store up the road and they're doing pictures." "You're an adult." "Please!!!" "Fine. We can go sit on the employee dressed in a rabbit suit's lap." "Yay! Thank you!" 12) "You can't eat that much cotton candy, you'll make yourself sick." "But it's good!" "You'll get a cavity." 13) "Can we go to the fair?" "We're not riding the toddler rides again. People gave us so many dirty looks last year." "But what about the teacups?" "We can ride the teacups, but none of the other kid ones." 14) "Can we shoot fireworks this year?" "You hate the ones with loud noises." "Yeah, but I like looking at them." "I'll buy earmuffs for you." 15) "Can we paint the side room." "Sure, what color?" "I was thinking like maybe a purple or green. Maybe all the colors." "Like a rainbow room? Why would we do the whole room?" "It'd be fun, it'd be cute for a side room or an office, maybe a baby room." "Baby room?" "Maybe. I mean, if you like that idea." "I think it's a great idea." 16) "Can we get a dog?" "You're an adult, if you want a dog you don't have to ask me." "Yeah, but it's your house too so..." "Yes, we can get a dog. We can go to the shelter tomorrow." 17) "So, I was thinking maybe we could have our wedding during the spring or maybe the summer." "You have bad allergies during those times." "Yeah, but I was thinking we could get fake flowers and I could take some allergy medication and it could still look like a spring or a summer wedding." "I'll start looking at fake flowers." "I'll check venues." 18) "Why are you up so early?" "Look outside! It's snowing!!!" "And you woke me up so we could play in it?" "Uh huh." "One hour and then you let me go back to sleep." "I'll go get my gloves!!" 19) "We have to go to the zoo." "You hate the zoo, you said you don't like seeing animals in cages." "I know but the goats just gave birth to baby goats and they're finally letting them out to be pet today!" 20) "I dream about flying all the time but I never thought I'd actually get to do it." 21) "Thanks for tonight, I had a really great time with you. I hope we can do it again soon." 22) "We should move in together. I mean, if you want." 23) "I don't want to lose you, and it took me a while to realize but I know what I want now. Will you marry me?" 24) "I wouldn't trade you for all the gold, silver, gems, or all the most expensive things in the world." 25) "You really are the love of my life."

Indigo 1) "They're obnoxious and loud and stupid and I can't believe I'm in love with them." 2) "You may be a star but you'll never be as big a star as VY Canis Majoris." 3) "The most fucked up thing I ever learned was that Luna moths don't have mouths or a digestive tract because their sole purpose is to mate. So they live for a week and then die because they starve to death." 4) "I think you have more outfits than you have IQ points." 5) "Can you just stop doing...whatever it is you're doing for like ten minutes." 6) "God you're so annoying, just stop breathing. Please? Just stop." 7) "I wish I were a plant, I wouldn't have to talk or think or do all this shit. I'd just have to soak up sunlight, soak up rain, and take in carbon dioxide. Being a plant really is the fucking dream." 8) "Hey, I heard Person A broke up with you. That sucks. So, um, do you think I could get my Chemistry book?" 9) "Are you still upset about your break up with Person A? You shouldn't be, I've seen their family members, they don't age well. But, um, that neighbor of yours, the cute one, their family looks pretty good. And with your genes you two would have some above average looking children." "Thank you?" "You're welcome." 10) "You know, you're terrible at giving advice." "Yeah, well, I'm not used to being around other humans." "Maybe just say people. Calling other people humans is kind of...weird." "Noted." 11) "Do you want to come to a party with me tonight?" "To what? Drink, embarrass myself, have to listen to terrible music, and interact with people I don't even like?" "Yes." "Pass. I'd rather be here studying plants." 12) "Would you like to go out sometime, on like a date?" "Sure, I guess. You just set up the blind date and I'll do my best. Though, maybe you could find me someone who at least can carry on a conversation with me." "No, I mean would you want to go out on a date with me?" "With you? Why would you want to date me? Don't you have plenty of other options?" "I like you." "We wouldn't work out. You and I are too different. You are good looking and nice and deserve someone who's like you. You don't want someone like me anyways. Besides I'd bore you to death before the appetizers came out." 13) "I care about you." "You? Thought you didn't care about anyone." "I don't. Usually. But I think the reason I care so much is because I like you." "You like me?" "Yeah, it's um... it's a new feeling for sure." 14) "What they said back there. You're not a robot." "No, I am. They're right. It's hard for me to be like the others. I didn't grow up having friends so I didn't know what it was like to care about anything other than school or projects." "You care about me. You said you care about me. Is that true." "Of course it's true." "Then you're not a robot." 15) "You kissed me back there. Why did you do that?" "I was testing a hypothesis." "Oh yeah? What was your hypothesis." "You would kiss me back if I kissed you." "And the results?" "Well, if worked the first time. But a good scientists always checks their work to be sure, right?" "That's correct, yes." 16) "Have you ever kissed anyone?" "I've done a lot of things." "Have you had sex?" "Yes, but it was purely for research. I wanted to know what certain things felt like and what certain things would do for others." "Only you could manage to make sex sound so boring." 17) "Hey, I was--are you watching porn?" "I'm researching for an experiment." "What kind? You gonna see what happens when you put your hand down your pants to that?" "No, I was studying to see if I could tell the difference between a real orgasm and a fake one." "If you wanted to study that you could have just asked me." 18) "Do you think I should socialize more?" "Since when do you care what I think? You're the one with a billion degrees." "Well, you're better with people than I am." 19) "You're hugging me." "Yeah. It's what friends do, they hug." "It's, um, nice. I think." 20) "Yesterday I felt the urge to hug the mailman. Isn't that weird?" "Did you hug the mailman?" "No." "Then it's not that weird. Probably just your body telling you it needs to be touched physically, you know?" "What?" "You crave physical touch." 21) "I think I'm lonely." "Yeah, I think you are too." "Should I start dating?" "Do you want to date?" "Not particularly." "Then maybe just try getting friends." 22) "If I have to spend another evening with that idiot I might lose it." "Is this because they thought photosynthesis had to do with photography?" "Don't remind me." 23) "We're having dinner with my friends tonight." "They hate me." "They don't hate you, you're just smarter than all of them combined." 24) "I can't talk to Person A, they tried to ask me about plant cells and actually thought that I was talking about a cellphone made of plants." "They're not very good at Science, but they like you a lot an they're trying to find ways to talk to you. It's cute. You should give them a chance. Take them to a Science museum." "Like, the ones for kids?" "Yeah. They'll love it." "Fine, but if it starts to go bad I'm texting you to call me and say there's an emergency so I can get out of it." "As long as you give it a try." 25) "They're in love with you, you know? Why do you ruin all your chances at love?" "Because sometimes I'm not sure I'm capable of feeling it."

Violet 1) "You smell like desperation. That a new cologne/perfume or is that just you?" 2) "I'm not here to play nice, I'm here to protect your ass because you couldn't follow simple instructions!" 3) "God, you are so annoying. I can't believe I have to put up with you for six months." 4) "Get your shit, we're getting out of here. I'm not leaving you in this hellhole, alright? Pack your stuff, you're coming with me." 5) "Are we gonna be a family?" "Let's not call it that, let's call it I'm taking care of you for a while alright?" "For how long?" "For as long as you want me to." 6) "Are you gonna be my mom/dad?" "WOAH! No. Absolutely not. I'll be your guardian, okay? And it's only temporary." 7) "Goddamn it, kid, wake up! You can't annoy the shit out of me for months and make me care about you just so you can die like this. I'm not allowing it. Come on, get up, kid. If you get up I'll take you to that Funland place you wanted to go. Anywhere you wanna go. I'll be better to you. I'll...fuck! I'll take care of you for the rest of your life. I'll teach you how to ride a bike and be there for you when you do Science fairs and shit. I'll be your mom/dad." 8) "You're stupid trying to save me like that. You can't swim." "You never taught me how to." "Yeah, well, I'm gonna teach you when we get out of here." 9) "You're evil and manipulative and you're mean and I kinda love that about you, kid. You remind me of me. If you want a place to sleep and food you don't have to dig out of the trash you can stay with me as long as you want." 10) "Can I get a motorcycle?" "Absolutely not, kid. As long as I'm alive the only two wheel thing you'll be riding on is a fucking bicycle." "Well, can I get a bicycle?" "Yeah, we can steal you one later." 11) "You might be the most annoying person I've ever met in the world but I'd die for you." 12) "If you ever come near me or my family I'll fucking kill you. I will bury you in a shallow grave and leave you as food for the worms. Do you understand me?" 13) "You're not going to die here because I'm gonna protect you." 14) "Hey, you trust me don't you?" "Yeah." "Good, you're going to have to disguise yourself. And whatever you do keep your head down, don't talk, and don't let go of me, okay?" 15) "Hey short stack." "You came for me?" "Course I did, did you really think I'd leave you behind?" 16) "I'm coming with you." "You're not." "I am and you can't stop me." "I can handcuff you to that bench over there and leave Person A the keys." "...well I would appreciate if you didn't do that." 17) "Hey there, stranger, haven't seen you in a while." "What the fuck are you doing here?" "Is that really how you greet your best friend?" 18) "Out of my way." "You'll die if you go in there." "And you'll die if I don't go in there." 19) "I'm always gonna be here for you, you know that? 20) "Woah, what's wrong, why are you crying?" "You'll be leaving after this." "Come here, I'm not leaving you after this. I'm staying here with you. Did you really think I'd leave you here all alone? You can barely make toast." 21) "Hey, you can't run off like that again, do you hear me?" "Yeah, whatever-" "No! No, you don't get to whatever me about this. You could have fucking died out there. So you look me in the eye and you promise me you're never going to do that again!" "I-I promise I'll never do it again!" 22) "Look, I'm not your parent so I'm not going to tell you what to do, but that kid you're hanging around is bad news. I've seen their arrest record, you shouldn't be hanging around them. I know they're nice right now but people like that take advantage of nice. I would know. I used to be like them." 23) "I love you. More than anything in the world and that's why I train so hard. I have to train harder because now I have to be stronger. Because now I finally have something worth fighting for." 24) "You can't come with me. You're staying here." "I want to fight!" "You're sick. You need to stay here with Person A, take some medicine, and get some rest." 25) "Hey, watch your mouth, no one talks like that in front of my kid!"

[bytheangell]

Had to Go Too Far to Know How Far to Go

( @shadowhunterbingo Square: Enemies to Lovers) (Read on AO3)

Jace is seething, sitting across from Maryse in her office as the Head of the Institute. Jace isn’t sure if he’s relieved it’s Maryse and not Robert - sometimes he thinks he can play Robert a little better than he can Maryse, but he isn’t sure it matters this time around. He knows he’s in actual trouble when he’s called into the office instead of just reprimanded wherever she happens to find him around the Institute.

And he’s definitely in trouble. Apparently, someone saw him sneaking out after curfew and turned him in. He barely made it two blocks away from the Institute before he felt a tap on his shoulder and was instructed to return back immediately, then escorted directly here.

Jace isn’t sure who told on him - he knows he mentioned the party he was trying to go to around a few of the other Shadowhunters during training that morning, mostly to brag about the pretty Seelie girl who invited him. Any one of them could’ve gotten jealous and decided to be petty about it.

So instead of drinking Seelie wine and forgetting about his responsibilities for a night, he’s getting a lecture on representing not only the New York Institute and the Nephilim stationed here, but the Lightwood name. Jace grits his teeth and manages to “Yes, Ma’am” and “sorry, Ma’am” his way through the lecture.

No matter how many times he asks, she refuses to tell him who turned him in.

The next morning at training he eyes the others with a steely gaze. “I’m not sure which one of you ratted me out,” he says. “But if I find out-” Jace pauses there, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Scratch that, when I find out, I’ll make sure you never have a single fun night in your entire life. Don’t pull that shit again.”

Jace eyes them all one-by-one, catching Alec’s eye-roll before noticing the confused expressions of a few others who don’t seem to know what he’s even talking about, let alone be the ones responsible for it. Either they’re surprisingly good at playing dumb, or none of them went to Maryse.

But if it wasn’t any of them, who else could it be?

---

The next time Jace gets in trouble for trying to sneak out of the Sanctuary to avoid getting caught, this time to test out using the morning star flail that Robert keeps insisting Jace can’t take in the field, he gets assigned weapon and combat gear cleaning duty for the next two weeks.

To his surprise, Andrew Underhill is waiting outside the training room as he leaves Maryse’s office. He tries to look like he’s just passing by but Jace is positive he was listening in.

“Who knew wanting to practice a new weapon would be frowned upon,” Jace comments, covering his frustration with the whole situation with his usual bravado, forcing a smirk on his face. “Guess cleaning all the weapons is one way to familiarize myself with them better.”

“Pretty sure it’s less the wanting to practice and more the going on patrol alone with a weapon you’re not proficient in,” Andrew doesn’t look amused. “Seems like a good way to get yourself killed.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “I would’ve been fine.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Andrew agrees easily enough, though Jace notes with a moment of annoyance that he doesn’t sound genuine. Does he think Jace is that incompetent, too? “Sorry about the cleaning detail,” Andrew adds, which shifts the subject slightly.

“Don’t be,” Jace shrugs. “Isn’t like it’s your fault.”

A strange look crosses Andrew’s face at that, a flicker of hesitation as if he might say something, then changes his mind. Jace almost comments on it but Andrew speaks again, his words quick and dismissive.

“Yeah, no, of course not. Just trying to be sympathetic.” That’s what Andrew says, though Jace can’t help but notice he still looks guilty, but maybe that’s just for the eavesdropping.

Jace arches an eyebrow. “Right,” he says slowly, not sure why Andrew’s being so weird all of a sudden. “Anyway, guess I should go get some rest if I’m going to be up at the crack of dawn wiping down weapons.” Jace turns and leaves Andrew still lingering outside of Maryse’s office, not thinking twice about it.

The following morning Jace shows up to the weapons room prepared for several hours of solitary cleaning. He definitely doesn’t expect Andrew to show up about half an hour in with an offer to help.

“Want a hand?” Andrew asks, eyeing the still very large pile of unpolished weapons.

“...why would you want to do that?” Jace asks suspiciously. This is a punishment after all, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have to be. No one in their right mind would willingly subject themselves to this.

Andrew shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Sometimes the repetitiveness of these sorts of tasks helps clear my head. Plus, I figured you could use the company. If you’d rather be alone, though, I could go…”

Jace considers the offer. It’s way too quiet in here - Jace always preferred to be around people, to have conversation and distractions so he isn’t left alone with his thoughts for too long. If nothing else, Jace would definitely appreciate the company even if Andrew just hangs out and doesn’t do any actual cleaning.

“Alright, have at it,” Jace finally agrees.

The two of them spend the next two hours talking and joking as they polish the weapons, and Jace realizes that this is probably the first significant amount of time he’s spent alone with Andrew. They get along surprisingly well, and Jace would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit how much he appreciates the way Andrew seems to look at him with an almost reverent admiration, despite being older than Jace. He can’t help it - when you spend the better part of your life trying to impress others, it’s the best feeling in the world when it pays off.

Andrew shows up to help Jace a few more times that week, until Jace begins to expect him rather than wonder if he’ll show. Outside of a few misguided attempts to rein in Jace’s reckless side, which Jace chalks up to pretty standard interactions for a friendship with him, the two of them only grow closer. Andrew is smart, the properly clever sort of smart that Jace loves, but he’s also kind. Much more kind than many raised in the life of Nephilim are. And it’s that kindness, that warmth, that Jace is drawn to the most.

When Jace’s punishment ends he feels a pang of unexpected loss at the idea of not seeing Andrew every day. He goes out on a limb and asks if Andrew would want to have a standing offer to meet up for breakfast in the mornings in the cafeteria, so they still have time outside of training and patrols to just hang out.

There’s a little flutter in Jace’s stomach when Andrew eagerly agrees with a huge smile, and Jace realizes with sudden certainty that somewhere over the past two weeks his feelings for Andrew may have shifted to something more than just a desire for friendship.

He ignores that for now, content with breakfast, daily talks, and getting to know Andrew a little better.

---

“Why don’t you wash up and meet me down in the cafeteria? I’ll see if I can get us some breakfast food cooked up,” Andrew offers. He sounds… hesitant. Maybe even a little scared. Jace doesn’t blame him - Jace knows he must look about two seconds away from self-destructing because he feels like he is.

Jace messed up. He knows he messed up, and he’s going to do something to fix it. He has to.

“No, I just want to sleep,” Jace says, his tone uncharacteristically cold toward Andrew who has recently become the only person to see the best sides of him nearly constantly. He can’t help it when the very sight of Andrew brings a small smile to his face no matter how bad of a mood he’s in… or at least, it usually does. “See you tomorrow.”

They just got back from a failed mission, one that Jace was in charge of. Jace kept most of his control during the debriefing, and now the rest of the team heads off to shower and rest.

Not Jace.

Jace waits until Andrew is out of sight before he slips away unnoticed to the weapons room. Grabbing two extra daggers and a seraph blade, he heads back to where his team lost track of the demons they were after before. He’s only back on the trail for a few minutes before Alec finds him, saying that Hodge sent him to track Jace and bring him back. The look of pure regret on Alec’s face says everything Jace needs to know about how in trouble he is.

“Sorry,” Alec says for the tenth time on their way back to the Institute. “I could always say I didn’t find you,” he offers, sounding unconvinced that would be any better.

Jace shakes his head. “No, then they’ll just punish you, too,” he sighs. “How did he even know I was gone?! I swear no one saw me leave.”

Alec shrugs. “I dunno.” They continue to walk in silence until Alec drops Jace off in the training room where Hodge is waiting, arms crossed over his chest.

Jace thinks that the worst news he’ll hear that night is the clearly stated warning that if he ever tries to go on an unsanctioned mission alone again he’ll be pulled from active duty entirely.

Instead, it’s the revelation of who told Hodge what he was doing that fills Jace’s veins with ice and makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

“If Underhill hadn’t seen the cameras and warned us as fast as he did…”

Jace doesn’t hear anything after that, the words a buzzing noise in his brain. Underhill. Andrew. The fact that Andrew is the one who betrayed him makes this a million times worse. He trusted him. He liked him. He still does, which makes this hurt so much more. If it’d be anyone else…

Jace wastes no time going directly to Andrew’s room after Hodge releases him.

“What the fuck, Andrew?!” Jace demands before the door is even fully open.

Andrew looks as sick to his stomach as Jace felt only minutes prior.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew manages. “But you-”

“You’re not my goddamn keeper. You nearly got me pulled from active duty!” Jace seethes.

Andrew pales. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Jace points out, nothing but heat in his eyes and venom in his tone. He’s pissed. He doesn’t want to be pissed at Andrew, but he is, and he needs to get this out.

Andrew, to Jace’s surprise, grows defensive. “Maybe if you stopped trying to show off on your own all the time I wouldn’t have to keep turning you in just to--”

Jace’s jaw drops open and Andrew’s words cut off abruptly with the realization of what he just admitted.

“Keep turning me in?” Jace repeats, shaking his head. “It was you before, too, wasn’t it? By the Angel, Andrew, I thought we were friends! I thought-” but now it’s Jace’s turn to cut his words off abruptly because now is not the time for that, no matter how hurt he feels right now. “You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter, because we clearly aren’t. I don’t want you to speak to me again, Underhill.”

Jace doesn’t stay for a response, allowing the abrupt shift from calling him Andrew to spitting out Underhill like it’s poison to do all the talking for him.

---

Things continue on in this way for a while - it seems like every time Jace goes off to make a potentially reckless decision Andrew is right there to drag him back. At first, Jace thought he was being too obvious, but no matter how many precautions he takes, Andrew always finds out, and Jace suffers for it. He knows the punishments are meant to be a deterrent but he mostly ignores them - in fact, they have the opposite effect. If everyone is going to assume he’s always out to cause trouble, then he might as well actually be out to cause trouble and have some fun in the process, live up to the reputation and all, right?

The times he manages to elude punishment only fuel more attempts, more risks to see how far he can push whatever fates are working against him here. When he gets away with it he’s rewarded with lavish nights out and thrilling solo missions far beyond anything he’d get cleared for through official channels, as well as any other number of adventures. More importantly, every time he manages to sneak out under Andrew’s seemingly constant watch (because of course Andrew works security at the Institute) it feels like a bigger victory, a louder ‘fuck you!’ to the person who, for reasons Jace still doesn’t understand because he refuses to speak with him, seems determined to ruin his life.

The only time they talk is on missions, and even then Jace shuts down any attempt at conversation outside of tactics and relevant information on whatever they’re tracking or fighting or protecting. He can tell that it hurts Andrew, but he pretends not to care just as intently as he pretends it doesn’t hurt him just as much. Jace reminds himself that Andrew is the one who betrayed him and his trust, after all.

They go on like this for quite some time. For half a year, in fact. Six straight months of Jace glaring daggers at Andrew every time he gets pulled in for breaking some rule or another. Six months of ignoring Andrew every time he practically begs Jace to just stop doing things that’ll get him in trouble in the first place.

Six months until Jace’s curiosity gets the better of him, finally overriding his anger enough for him to spin around after starting to walk away from Andrew in the middle of yet another attempted-conversation-turned-fight.

“I have to know,” Jace says. “What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you!” Andrew says. “I never hated you! Which you’d know if you ever just listened to me.”

“The thing is, I find that really hard to believe because I can’t imagine spending every waking moment trying to ruin the life of someone I liked.” Jace huffs. “Was it something I said? Were you jealous that the Lightwoods let me head missions-”

“Stop it,” Andrew pleads. “Stop being an ass just to push people away. I’m not your enemy, Jace!” Andrew snaps. “I’m trying to keep you alive, since you have no inclination of doing that on your own. I’m…” Underhill’s words stall out in his frustration as if he’s suddenly wondering if he should be saying anything at all. “I’m looking out for you, you self-sacrificing asshole,” he finishes, then seems to forcibly shut his mouth to not say anything more.

The words sound like they should be insults, but there isn’t anger behind them. Or, at least, there isn’t just anger - Jace can hear the concern behind them, too.

“I can look out for myself,” Jace points out, still defensive but much less angry.

“Sure you can,” Andrew says. “But you don’t. And I couldn’t convince you to, so…”

So Andrew wasn’t trying to ruin Jace’s life, he’s trying to protect it. And if Jace believes him, then he’s been doing it since before they were friends, and while they were friends, and even after, while Jace treated him like absolute shit for it.

“Why?” Jace asks. He’s pretty sure he knows, but he needs to hear Andrew say it. He needs to know and not just assume.

Andrew looks momentarily mortified by the question. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me say it…” Andrew mumbles.

“You wanted me to listen,” Jace reminds him. “Here’s your chance. I’m listening.”

Andrew seems to have lost the drive he had at the start of the conversation when the words were spilling out of him. Now it looks as if he has to force himself to say what comes next, but he does.

“Because I care about you, Jace. Because I like you. A lot. And the idea of something happening to you…” Andrew trails off, looking down at his feet for a moment before lifting his head to meet Jace’s eyes again. “I couldn’t stand it, not if there was something I could do to try and keep you safe. And maybe it wasn’t my place. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I just… even if you hated me for it, I couldn’t just stand back and wait for the night you went off to do something reckless and didn’t make it back.”

A heavy silence falls between them, Andrew done speaking his truth and Jace taking a moment to process it all.

“It wasn’t your place,” Jace agrees. “But as far as reasonings go, not wanting me to get hurt isn’t the sort of thing I can hate you for, is it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Andrew says, looking anxious again.

Jace sighs. “Listen, before all of this,” Jace says, making a vague hand motion between the two of them to symbolize the past six months and everything that went wrong. “Before I ruined everything, I thought there might be something between us. And I get it, if I fucked things up too much to go back now, I understand, but-”

A second later Jace’s words are cut short by the press of Andrew’s lips to his in a kiss he returns eagerly once he recovers from the momentary surprise of it. It only breaks when Jace absolutely needs to take a breath, and honestly, Jace might’ve just gone right back in for more if Andrew didn’t take a small step back.

“You didn’t ruin everything,” Andrew says, unable to keep the small smile from his face now. “I meant what I said. I care about you. I like you. Present tense, here and now, even after everything. I’m not saying we should just pretend the last few months never happened, but… I don’t think it isn’t anything we can’t come back from. Do you?”

“Listen, I know we need to talk about this, and we will, but right now I really just want to kiss you again,” Jace confesses.

Andrew laughs. “We do need to talk. We should also maybe take the night to think things through before we jump into anything we’ll regret, verbally or physically.”

“I hate it when you’re rational,” Jace mutters. “But you’re right.”

“Maybe we can meet tomorrow? Over breakfast?” Andrew suggests.

The idea of having Andrew back, as a friend or something more, feels too good to be true. But here it is - here Andrew is - beaming like the goddamn sun.

“Breakfast sounds perfect,” Jace agrees, his smile genuine and hopeful for the first time in months.

[empyrealix]

7.593 billion people and you | hjs

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre/warnings: soulmate au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, blood, mentions of stitches, pain, death, crying

synopsis: jisung and yn have been friends for as long as they can remember. jisung moved to seoul to pursue his dreams, and they never thought they would meet again. they certainly did not expect to be soulmates.

words: 3 729

Multiverse

The multiverse. Eternally inflating and containing an infinite number of bubbles, pocket universes. Each of these pocket universes are infinite and open. If these pocket universes have a positive cosmological constant, the energy density of space, they can harbour, contain, an infinite number of daughter universes.

Jisung sighed, closing the book. He scratched the back of his neck, gaze wandering to the many diagrams of space hung on the wall with thumbtacks. He opened the book again.

One approach to the multiverse theory is that each multiverse is governed by a set of consistent physical laws. This approach explains why our Universe works the way it does. On the other hand, this means that other universes are inaccessible for earthlings. 

He closed the book as the door opened, you stepped in. Your backpack slung over your shoulder, ridding yourself of it as you walked into the room, throwing it into a corner. You smiled at Jisung, shooting him finger guns as you flung yourself down on the bed. Jisung giggled.

“Your mother let me in,” You nodded, glancing at the book in Jisung’s hands. Abruptly sitting up your eyebrows creased, pointing at the book.

“The multiverse theory?” He shrugged, chuckling, “Didn’t know you were into that,” Jisung shook his head.

“It’s interesting, but I’m not really into it,” You nodded, throwing a pillow at him. He scoffed, complaining about the pillow being thrown. 

Multiverses and soulmates

Jisung sat cross-legged on your bed. The lights in the room were turned off, and the only sources of light were the glow in the dark stars you and Jisung hung up one year for your birthday and a flickering flashlight.

“Multiverses can never intersect since they’re governed by a set of consistent physical laws,” Jisung nodded, a lightbulb lighting up over his head. Your eyes shone with excitement, this excitement illuminating your face. You flipped the page, this one titled soulmates. You pursed your lips, looking at Jisung before beginning to flip the page, a finger landing on the title stopped you.

“Tell me,” You nodded, beginning to speak.

“It’s believed that soulmates originally didn’t exist in this world and that they came from another universe. The universes are governed by a set of consistent physical laws, which means that we can’t access the other universes. It’s believed that there was a mistake, a rift opened somewhere allowing people to travel between universes. Scientists believe that other universes had soulmates long before ours and that when the rift opened someone brought the soulmate gene with them when they came to this universe,” Jisung lent against the headboard of your bed, eagerly soaking up every word you said.

“And the soulmate gene is a tattoo of your soulmate’s favourite thing, and it appears on your 16th birthday,” Jisung pointed out, you nodded, smiling at him as you closed the book.

“Yeah, some scientists even believe that there exist different variations of the soulmate gene, but that’s merely speculation,” Jisung nodded, studying the cover of the book. He pointed at a set of numbers and letters squished in between two exploding planets. His eyebrows creased.

“What’s that?” You looked to where he was pointing, the combination of letters and numbers.

“It’s what the scientists call the soulmate gene,” Jisung nodded, his head dropping as he fell asleep.

The 16th birthday and two identical planets; the multiverse?

Jisung laughed from somewhere in the bushes.

“Jisung, come on, where are you?” You yelled out into the darkness. You hit the side of your flashlight as it began flickering. A branch broke in the direction of the clearing, cautiously you made your way there. Your, now dead, flashlight held out in front of you as a weapon. 

“Jisung,” You trailed off as you reached the clearing. Jisung was standing in the middle of it. He had laid out a blanket, and in the right corner laid a pile of folded blankets in case you got cold. He had hung up fairy lights, strung them from one branch to another. Jisung himself stood beaming in the middle. He smiled even wider, if possible when he spotted you stepping into the clearing.

“Our soulmate tattoos appear this evening,” He gestured to the blanket, “and I thought it would be nice if we watched the stars,” He pointed towards the dark blue sky as he spoke. You smiled, walking over to him, engulfing him in a hug you nodded.

“It’s perfect, Sung,” He raised a fist towards the sky in victory, you giggled at the action.

“See Cassiopeia, I told you I could do this, I told you she’d like it,” Giggling you shook your head. Jisung's eyes widened in anticipation.

“Actually, that’s Cassiopeia,” You pointed to a cluster of brighter stars, they formed a W. “That star,” You pointed to the star in the middle of the constellation, “that’s Gamma Cassiopeiae,” You moved your finger, pointing to the star beside Gamma Cassiopeiae, “that’s Delta Cassiopeiae or Ruchbah. It’s also known as Rukbat, it means knee,” You snorted, moving your finger to the other side of Gamma Cassiopeiae, the star made up the bottom of the W, “Alpha Cassiopeiae, traditionally called Schedar. The name comes from the Arabic Al Sadr meaning the breast,” You moved your hand to the star beside Schedar, “and that’s Beta Cassiopeiae or Caph. It means hand, and it’s one of the five brightest stars that make up Cassiopeia,” You moved your hand, pointing at the last star. Jisung hung onto every word you said. “This last star is Epsilon Cassiopeiae, officially it’s called Segin,” Your eyes sparkled. Jisung smiled widely, reciting everything you’d said. You nodded encouragingly at every word he said.

Jisung tugged you down to sit on the blanket, “tell me more about Segin,”. You clapped your hands together, your eyes lighting up in excitement, and a smile curving up the corners of your lips. To Jisung it looked like all the stars in the galaxy were contained in your eyes.

“Well, the star is 4.2 times as wide as the Sun. It has a temperature of 15,174 Kelvin, that’s 14,900.85 Celcius. Segin is a main sequence star fusing hydrogen in its core. A main sequence star means that it fuses hydrogen atoms at its core to form helium. It being a main sequence star gives it the classification of B3 V,” Jisung nodded, his mouth hanging open in wonder. The giggle that left your lips was bashful, rubbing the back of your neck. A blush crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks. You turned around at the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, Jisung patted your knee.

“It’s just an owl, nothing to be scared of,” You turned back to him shivering. His eyes widened, pointing at the pile of blankets he had laid out, “I have blankets if you’re cold,”. You gratefully accepted the warmth of the blanket as Jisung wrapped it around your shoulders. He glanced at his watch, “two more minutes till midnight,”. Both of you scooted closer to each other, looking up at the stars. Sometimes you would point at a specific star and say something about it. Jisung had his eyes on you most of the time. His heart beating frantically in his chest at the close proximity. He knew he should not have fallen in love with you, there were currently 7.426 billion people on Earth, the chances of his soulmate being you were minuscule. There were stories of people who dated who they wanted, paying no mind to their soulmate, but as time passed for those people, their hearts slowly stopped.

He winced as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his left arm, he looked at you, your eyes showing the same amount of pain as he felt. He looked down at it, folding up the sleeve of his hoodie. It was almost as if his skin created a new system of veins, gold thread waved its way under the skin, sometimes breaking the surface. Stitching once or twice before making its way under his skin again. Whenever the glowing gold thread broke the skin droplets of blood oozed out from the holes the invisible needle left. After minutes of pain, a shape began to take from. He could barely make out two identical planets with a constellation over it. The constellation had the shape of a W. The tattoo filled with black ink, the gold pattern under his skin gone, but the pain still lingering. He looked over at you, the gold thread no longer visible on your skin. 

“What’s yours?” He muttered, you turned to him, using the flashlight on your phone to show him.

Jisung gasped, “it’s a demisemiquaver, your soulmate must like music,” You nodded, shrugging. The aura enveloping you had turned sad. You shook off the feeling, not wanting to burden Jisung, turning the flashlight to Jisung’s tattoo.

“That’s Cassiopeia,” You paused, studying the other part of his tattoo, “is that supposed to represent the multiverse theory?” Jisung shrugged.

“Maybe,” He stared out into the distance, “I have to go back tomorrow,”. You nodded, your eyes turning sad once again. A frown forming on your lips, “I’ll call you as often as I can, we’ll still be friends after this,” He smiled brightly, saying it with so much confidence that you had no choice but to believe him. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it, “I’ll call you as often as possible, I promise,”

He never called.

Stars, coffee, a café in Seoul, old friends

It had been years since you had last seen him, since you had last heard his laugh, his voice. Years since you had seen him smile at a stupid joke. It had been four years. In those four years, you had graduated, that was last year. You live in Seoul, your first year of university. Studying astronomy.

You fumbled with your phone as you walked into the café, the lady behind the counter greeted you, smiling back at her as you went to stand in the queue. In front of you stood a man, he wore a black t-shirt over it and he had a grey hoodie. The hood was pulled up over his head. He wore light blue jeans and white sneakers. His right hand was resting in his pocket, while the other, the left hand, fiddled with the string on his hoodie. The woman behind the counter took his order, telling him to wait while they made it. She smiled at you once again as you reached the counter.

“Hi, yn,” You smiled back at her, tapping on the counter.

“Yeji, hi, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Yeji nodded at that, punching something into the register.

“The usual?” You smiled, nodded and shot her finger guns. She giggled at the action, pointing over to where she had sent the man to wait.

“Wait there, we’ll call your name once it’s ready,” You had almost left before she added, “see you in physics next week,” You turned around at that, shooting her finger guns once again. Her face contorted into one of concern as you tripped and fell into the man who had stood before you in the queue. He grabbed your bare wrist to keep you from landing on the ground. You gasped as a sharp pain shot up your arm. The man hissed, taking his coffee from the counter before bolting out of the café. His name was Jisung. You never got a look at his face, he wore a mask, but you got his name. Jisung. Yeji looked at you, her eyes full of concern and worry. She whispered something to her co-worker before grabbing your shoulder and leading you into the staff room. She looked you over, making sure you had no injuries.

“Fold up your sleeve,” Her voice was authoritative, and not wanting to argue with her, did as told. Your soulmate tattoo, the demisemiquaver, was black this morning. It had now turned a deep blood red. Pain shot up from it in spikes as the colour changed and the tattoo itself moved. The red faded, the pain leaving with the red colour, it turned gold. Yeji looked up at you with wide eyes, she whispered.

“I think you met your soulmate,”

Gold thread, burns and Cassiopeia

Jisung opened the door to the dorm, stumbling over to the couch on shaky legs. His coffee had gone cold long ago, and he had thrown it away. Jisung folded up his sleeve, the once black tattoo had turned gold. He traced the outline of it as he had done many times before, only that this time he winced at the sensation. It hurt. It felt as though he had burned it on a warm pot. He stared at it, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Almost screaming once the outline of it started moving, his skin spiked, the same gold thread he had last seen four years ago stitching new stitches. It did not make new shapes, but rather outlined the stars in Cassiopeia and the continents pictured on the planets. Jisung did not realise that he was crying until a tear hit his arm, he sniffled wiping under his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. The thread stopped moving, disappearing almost as if it never existed. The outlines it had made an angry red before turning copper. Jisung wiped away the rest of his tears, folding down his sleeve as the door opened. Minho. The newcomer placed his bag on the ground with a thud.

“You’re home early,” He remarked, “weren’t you supposed to meet Felix?” Jisung turned to look at Minho, his eyes were red and swollen from the crying.

“I cancelled,” Minho squinted at him, jumping over the back of the couch to sit beside Jisung.

“What’s wrong? Why have you been crying?” Jisung tugged on the strings of his hoodie, avoiding Minho’s piercing eyes. He shook his head, “I know that something is wrong, what is it?” Minho narrowed his eyes. Jisung sighed, he did not say anything as he pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing the gold tattoo. The dancer smiled, patting Jisung’s knee.

“You met your soulmate,” Jisung shrugged, his shoulders sagging. He wiped away another wave of tears as the tattoo began burning.

“It hurts. Is it supposed to hurt?” Jisung grit his teeth, looking up at the older boy through a veil of tears. Minho handed him a tissue and sent him a reassuring smile.

“I think so, I don’t know,” He admitted, both boys looked towards the door again as the lock clicked. Chan stepped in, running a hand through his damp hair. His eyes fell on the two boys on the couch. His eyes flooded with worry as he saw the red swollen state of Jisung’s eyes and the tear streaks down his cheeks.

“Jisung, what happened?” Jisung did not answer, only sniffling more. Minho spoke up.

“He met his soulmate, and his tattoo hurts,” Chan nodded, his brain retrieving all the knowledge he possessed about soulmates. He forgot everything as Jisung looked at him with teary eyes.

“Is it supposed to hurt?” Jisung’s eyes watered again and he clenched his hands into fists. His nails digging into the flesh of his palm as another wave of pain hit. He squeezed his eyes shut. Peering at Chan through a half-closed lid, he asked, “Is there something wrong with me?” Both Chan’s and Minho’s heart broke. Chan stumbled over to Jisung, pulling him into a hug. A hug Minho joined.

“No Jisung, there’s nothing wrong with you,”

A universe where Han Jisung does not forget you

You laughed bitterly at the thought, swallowing the rest of your coffee before throwing the brown paper cup into the bin. The first raindrops hit the surface of the river, you kicked a rock. Shuddered as a cold breeze brushed past you. Tugging your coat tighter around your figure you walked away from the park bench. Your phone rang, Yeji. You did not answer it, instead opting to shove it back into your pocket as angry tears streamed down your cheeks. You shook your head, wiping away the tears as the thought made its way to your conscious.

Maybe there existed a universe where Jisung did not forget you, a universe where you still talked. Where he called as he promised he would. You kicked a stone, gritting your teeth. Tears made their way down your cheeks, and you angrily wiped them away. You did not notice the cargo trailer speeding down the street.

“Stop!” The voice grabbed your arm, roughly yanking you back onto the sidewalk. The cargo trailer drove past, in another universe it might have killed you. The trailer drenched the two of you in water. A glance at the boy who had saved you revealed that he wore a grey hoodie. The hood was once pulled up, but it had fallen off, revealing a head of black hair. The man let go of your arm. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, but the trailer,” He trailed off, gesturing to where the trailer was.

“Thank you,” He smiled, his crooked front tooth showing. You once knew a boy with a crooked front tooth. The man laughed, helping you up. His laugh sounded like angels singing.

“I couldn’t let you die,” He shuffled his feet, tucking his right hand into his coat pocket. He winced, almost as if he was in pain.

“Are you okay?” The man waved it off, his sleeve sliding down his arm, exposing a glowing mark. You knit your brows, your mind filling with curiosity. You gasped as a wave of pain hit. The man’s, Jisung’s, eyes flooded with worry.

“Are you okay?” He gestured to your arm. You smiled stiffly, nodding. The sleeve was wet as you peeled it off your skin, the glowing soulmate mark coming to light. Jisung’s eyes widened, pointing at it.

“That’s a demisemiquaver,” He muttered, his heart tightening in his chest, “I had a friend once, a friend whose soulmate tattoo was a demisemiquaver,” He mumbled.

“What did you say?” Jisung did not reply, only folding up the sleeve of his coat. The constellation and the two identical planets glared up at you. The tattoo reminded you of that night. Of him.

“Jisung?” It was barely a whisper, almost inaudible. Jisung smiled slightly, glancing from the glowing tattoos to your face.

“I guess you’re my soulmate, yn,” You glared at him taking a step back.

“No,” You turned away from him, walking over the road. Jisung stared after your retreating figure until he yelled.

“You can’t. If you do this, we’ll both die,” His voice was drowned out by a crack of thunder and the patter of rain. 

A reconciliation under the stars

Jisung shifted from one foot to the other, his hands growing clammier by the second. He looked up at the night sky. Cassiopeia, the constellation he mocked the last time he was here, now felt like it was mocking him. He dried his hands on his trousers, jumping slightly as sticks broke in the distance. You stepped out of the underbrush, your gaze settling on Jisung.

The last time you were in this clearing was when you were 16 and got your soulmate tattoos, only that time there was a picnic blanket laid out and fairy lights strung over branches on the trees. This time the clearing was filled with coldness, no picnic blanket or fairy lights. Only the cold, hard forest floor. Jisung gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me,” Jisung held out a rose, the stem of it broken. “But we have to talk about this,” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears, “I don’t want to die,” His voice cracked, his eyes watered. Overflowing with tears, some fell down his cheeks. He wiped them away. Your heart shattered at Jisung’s shaking form.

“Jisung,” You opened your arms, tears beginning to form and run down your cheeks. He gripped the back of your shirt in his hands, his tears wetting it. You pulled away, “we can, we will figure this out,” Your thumb grazed his cheek, wiping away his tears.

“I’m sorry for never calling you, I was just busy,” He stopped, “And I know that it isn’t a good excuse, I know I promised I’d call,” He sniffled.

“I was upset, yes, but I understand that you were, that you are busy, “ Jisung grabbed your hands in his, moving his thumbs in circles on your skin. Tears rolled down both of your cheeks. “We’re going to have to work on this, on us,” You squeezed his hands, attempting to give him some form of comfort through the action. 

“You’re my soulmate,” Jisung said in awe, the realisation only dawning on him now. You nodded, smiling weakly at him. Your cheeks dimpling.

“I have to tell you something,” He mumbled. The sound barely audible over the rustling of the leaves overhead. You cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering what it was. Jisung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly nervous. His eyes moving to stare at a fleck of dirt on his shoe. “I-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. He looked at you, his eyes wide. They were filled to the brim with nervousness. Jisung’s heart beat frantically in his chest. Blood pounded in his ears. The words rested on the tip of his tongue, but he could not seem to get them out. “I fell in love with you when we were 15, and it never faded,” He laughed weakly, bringing his palms to his eyes to press the heel of his palm into his eyes.

“I fell in love with you too,” You sighed, “And that’s partly the reason I got so upset when you didn’t call,” You confessed, Jisung removed his hands from his face. You ran a hand through your hair. Jisung’s eyes widened, getting glossier than they had been. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung choked out the sentence, sniffling. He wiped away a stray tear rolling down his cheek.

“We’ll figure this out,” You motioned to Jisung before pointing back at yourself, “this whole soulmate thing. We’ll figure it out. Together,”.

[jaskiersbeloved]

if you can hold me like you used to (cause I never hated myself more)

summary: Virgil has a nightmare. But it isn’t his.

authors note: I really wasn't planning on the second part, but you guys convinced me! I hope I've managed to meet your expectations! The title is a bit changed lyrics from cavetown's song "i promise, i'm trying"

tag list: @icequeenoriginal, @astrozei, @myspatialspace, @coconut-cluster

Read on AO3

He felt like he was in the void. Void filled with sharp thornes of the roses, that he so loved. But the buds of the flowers where nowhere to be seen. Just the thornes, that ripped through his white robes, got caught in his hair, made his hands bleed.

The sword seath was empty, so he couldn't cut his way through.

He needed something to protect himself. An armour. A shield. Anything. But all he got were his own bare hands, that the thornes would ruthlessly cut through, leaving the bloody scratches on them.

But that wasn't the worst.

Though he wished it could be silent, eveytime a thorn has cut his skin, the wind would softly blow and whisper in his ear.

The voices would be different, but the message would still be the same.

That would be an amazing prank.

Cut.

Because Roman would make ya sick.

Cut.

I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.

Cut.

Tears have been falling from his face, while he was willing the voices to leave him alone.

But deep down he knew they were right.

He stopped abruptly, looking helplessly at his bloody hands. The voices were louder now.

I am not feeling any love OR misery!

He scoffed, hearing his own voice.

Back then he thought he would at least keep it in check. Or that maybe someone would react. But well. No-one did. So maybe he hid it well or maybe...

The thornes around him grew. They started to inch closer to him, as if fed by his own selfhatred.

How pathetic, he couldn't help but think. And yet, he didn't react.

He felt tired. Exhausted even.

Your big admission is dwarfed by your gargantuan failures.

Failure. That's what he is.

The thornes were now at his legs, slowly winding around them.

It hurt. He knew it hurt but he felt numb to it.

Let's talk about something we're both familiar with, Roman. Mistakes.

He sobbbed. The tears were falling to the ground.

So many mistakes he has made.

Maybe that's why they didn't need him?

The throny vices encircled him higher and higher, creating a sharp cocoon around him. The thorns were piercing him, little by little. But it didn't matter. Nobody would led him a helping hand right now. He has hurt too many to be even worthy of that.

So he let the vice grow. Maybe like that he'll finally rest. Maybe like that he finally won't hurt anyone.

The vices grew.

Virgil woke up with a start. He was breathing hard, so hard that it took him a few precious seconds to calm down and realize where he was and what has actually happened.

This wasn't his dream. That he was sure of. And he knew, who dreamed about it and has woken up as well. He could practically fell his anxiety through the door.

Virgil sighed.

Roman hasn't left his room since the last video. He allowed almost nobody to enter. The only person who could was Virgil, for what reason, he wasn't sure. Maybe because he was the first one to reach out to Roman after he sunk out?

But the creative side wasn't the only one who preferred staying in the room in the past few days. If Virgil were to be honest, he would say, that almost every side opted to not leave. Everyone avoided each other like the plague.

On the few rare occasions on which Virgil noticed any of them, they looked awful. Logan seemed tired. Patton had constant red rings around his eyes, probably from crying and he were always chewing on his lips. Virgil haven't seen either Janus or Remus, but he felt their anxiety as well.

All in all, everyone was a mess.

He lifted his covers and left the bed.

The nightmare worried him.

When a side was particularly anxious, Virgil could feel it. But when the anxiety was so hard that it caused the given side to have nightmares, it sometimes would manifest itself in Virgil's dreams.

That's exactly what happened now. And Virgil didn't like what he saw. Not even a little bit.

Quietly he opened the door to his room and stepped into the hallway.

He anxiously ran a hand through his hair, thinking.

Promise me...

Roman still didn't promise. And in the nightmare he had actually given up. And Virgil just... Had to check.

So he mustered whatever courage he had and walked straight to Roman's room.

Walking there, he couldn't help but notice how the hallway, and the Mind Palace itself, have changed.

Before the video it was warm, bright and welcoming, giving the familish, safety vibes, that Roman and Patton represented. After it , it looked more gloomy, cold and unwelcoming. Virgil couldn't help but wonder if that was because the two sides were so down recently.

Stopping in front of the door, he took in a big breath. His anxiety spiked.

What if Roman wouldn't want to talk with him? What if he wouldn't open the door? What if...

He has to try. For Roman's sake.

So he rose his hand and gently knocked.

The door flew open almost immediately, startling Virgil. But what it reviled, made his heart clench.

Roman were lying on the bed, curled in himself, just like he did, when he first came to check on him. His hands were in his hair, gripping it so hard that Virgil actually worried he'd rip them off. No sound escaped the side. The only thing that gave him away were his shaking shoulders.

"So you saw, huh?" he heard Roman's murmer. The side didn't even look at him. He just started blankly into the distance.

Virgil stepped into the room and quietly closed the door.

"Yeah" he said. Then after a moment he asked "Can I get closer?"

Roman shrugged.

"Sure. It's not like it matters anyways."

The bitterness in his voice caused the cleanch in Virgil's heart to grow stronger. He has never seen Roman in that state.

He sat at the edge of the bed.

He noticed the sash, that Roman used to wear, on the floor. Virgil furrowed his brows. The vibrant red was gone, replaced by a particulatly pale shade of pink. So pale, that it was almost white.

Virgil pressed his lips, trying to decide what to do.

While he himself wasn't a very touchy person, he knew Roman was. The creative side often needed to be touched to feel better. And though Virgil usually felt uncomfortable with that, he was willing to put his own feelings aside for Roman.

So he lifted his hand and started to rub comforting circles on Roman's back. It seemed to help a little, as the side's deathly grip on his hair eased up.

"How much have you seen?" Roman whispered, while still not looking at him. Virgil sighed. There's no point in lying now.

"I'm afraid that all of it" he admitted. Roman absentmindedly nodded his head.

"I see" he muttered. He let go of his hair to press them to his heart. "And what do you think about it?" he asked.

That I'm really worried about you, Virgil thought, but didn't dare to say this aloud. Roman was too deep into self-hatred right now. He'd take it as he was hurting Virgil because he dreamed about it and most likely use it to convince himself how bad of a person he was.

So Virgil just moved his hand up to the nape of Roman's head and started to comb through his hair.

"That you don't feel so good" he said, mentally cringing at how lame this had sound. Roman chuckled, but there was no humour behind it.

"You think?" he scoffed, with an edge in his voice. Virgil only pressed his lips.

For a moment there was only silence around the two of them. Finally Roman spoke up.

"I'm so tired, Virgil."

"I know" he said sadly.

"And you know... I just... Want to disappear. To finally rest."

Hearing that, Virgil tensed.

How did you duck out?

Promise me...

The echoes of their past conversation rang in his ears.

"Ro," he started, forcing himself to sound calmly. "you know you can't do it."

"And why not, Virgil!?" Roman suddenly snapped sitting up and finally turning to him.

Virgil muffled a gasp that almost escaped him when he saw Roman's face.

Skin pale, red-rimmed eyes and bags under them so dark, that they could rival his own.

"Why not!? I HAVE a replacement, you know! I have a twin, who would HAPPILY take my place! I am expendable! A failure! The one that makes a mistake after mistake and simply cannot seem to learn from them!"

Angry tears started to fall down from Roman's face as he screamed. He hid his face in his hands, making a strangled sound.

"You're not expandable" said Virgil, feeling his heart breaking a little, seeing his... His friend so devastated. "Nor are you replaceable."

Roman scoffed.

"Oh really?" he said bitterly. "How so? Because my ideas are flawless? Or maybe because my opinions are valued? So much that everyone would listen to them and actually take into consideration, huh?"

"Because you're you!" Virgil yelled back, shocking Roman into silence. The creative side dropped his hands, looking at him, startled. Virgil sighed.

"Roman" he began slowly, thinking about the next words he should use.

This was his moment to convince Roman to calm down and to start regaining his confidence. And Virgil will be damned if he fucks it up.

He looked Roman straight in the eyes and has put one hand over his heart.

"Trust me, when I tell you this. You are not expendable. Nor you are replaceable. You are Thomas' creativity. His passion. You influence his happiness. It's you who drag him into the stage. Who makes him believe in himself. It's you who caused him to create his vines and his YouTube videos, against my judgment." He smiled softly at the memory of this, before continuing. " It's you who helps to create drafts for the episodes, who comes up with the themes. Who pushes Thomas through every audition, who comes up with alternative ways to his ideas. That cannot be replaced, Ro."

Roman was shaking. Virgil could only hope it was because of emotions. And those good ones.

Suddenly a phrase from the dream rang in his ears.

Lend him a helping hand.

With one hand still pressed to his chest, he extended his other one torward Roman in an offering gesture.

"If... If you feel like you want to disappear, please, come to me, Ro. I can help. You deserve the help, okay? It doesn't make you weak or stupid. It's actually very smart and shows your strength. That you know that there's something wrong and that..." he stopped, seeing as Roman tried to avert his gaze. He couldn't let that happen.

Virgil let go of his chest in favour of gently putting two fingers under Roman's chin to turn his head in his direction. He smiled weakly, seeing the side's teary eyes. He used his thumb to gently wipe the ones that escaped and continued. "...and that you are brave enough to fight. Smart enough to ask for help, when you see there's something wrong going on with you. It doesn't make you a failure. Never ever that. It makes you a victor. Because it's a victory against self-hatred, Ro. A small one, but it's still a victory. And when you decide to go to fight with that, and trust me, it's going to be a long war, you're not going to be alone."

He stopped thinking back to the dream.

He needed something to protect himself. An armour. A shield.

"I will be your shield, Roman" he said and Roman actually gasped. He started to shake his head, but Virgil pressed on "Because you deserve one."

"But... I have hurt you in the past! So how can you..."

At that Virgil has actually smiled.

"Because, and listen to this carefully, Romano, you regretted it and you made a conscious effort to improve. I told you earlier, I have noticed the effort that you try to dial down your insults and they are more playful, than anything else now. And if you could do that then, you still can do that now. You are a good person, Roman. A good person, who, yes, has made some mistakes but is able to recognize them, apologize and is willing to improve. And that's what makes you different from Remus. That son of a..."

"Language" Roman muttered weakly. Virgil playfully rolled his eyes.

"That... Side never even apologised to you for smacking you with a mace from all of things. And honestly I cannot imagine Remus apologizing to anyone. Plus imagine how the Imagination would look like if Remus took the wheel."

Roman immediately shuddered at the thought, which made Virgil's lips quirk up. He was on the right path. So when Roman shook his head, trying to say something, Virgil didn't let him.

"And I know that you are confused because of the last video. Yes, Patton can be wrong, but that doesn't make him wrong about everything. And you have the qualities of the prince, Ro. You are good. You are kind. Just. Strong. Brave. And above all, you are loved. We all miss you."

During the conversation, Virgil inched a bit closer to Roman, and finally they were touching by their foreheads, which made both of the sides blush a bit because of the intimacy of the gesture.

The last sentences, Virgil whispered.

"All of us. Absolutely every single one. Patton worries about you so much. Logan as well, and yes I am sure of that, because he was the one who informed me first. Talk to them if you don't believe me. I assure you, they will agree with me." He took a shuddering breath. Now or never. "So, Roman... Take my hand. And I'll help you. I promise" he finished and held his breath.

For a long, scary moment Roman was just staring at him, teary eyed. His breathing grew quicker. But as Virgil was about to accept his defeat, suddenly one of Roman's hands shot up and grasped his extended one. The creative side used it as a leverage to pull Virgil closer and he hid his face in the crook of his neck.

"Please" he whined with a broken voicr, scooting himself closer to the anxious side. "Please, help me."

At that Virgil started to sob as well. He used is unoccupied hand to encircle them in a hug and enterwinded their fingers with the one that Roman held in his grip. He hid his face in Roman's hair and sighed.

He won this battle. He actually did it.

"I promise" he whispered. "I promise, I will."

And even though Roman still didn't promise him that he won't duck out, Virgil felt somewhat calmer. Because now...

Now there was some hope.

On the floor, the sash gained colours.

[beerecordings]

so what was it like for chase in favored puppet au when he first got to the house? i assume he was closed off or shy at least? how did anti get him to open up so much? (besides like, being there for a year i suppose haha!)

dude he was literally terrified!!! for months!!! ahhh June it was torture for him seriously!!

like you said this more recent fic is a huge time gap, like ten months or something, i don’t remember if i said that but it’s been a long time. but like the real terror that he has at the end of the first fic does not disappear quick. even if he didn’t know what Anti was, it would still be super super scary to get kidnapped by a supernatural creature, know that it killed the people who owned this house before it trapped you here, and then realize that apparently it wants to keep you permanently?? ahhhh. but it was even worse because this creature had literally tormented Chase for months. he thought Anti was literally an embodiment of his suicidality because that was what he represented to him. so this fic definitely skips over the parts where Chase would just cry and rock himself and scream every time Anti came into the room for days on end.

it took about two weeks before Chase started to realize that Anti was like... trying to be nice to him. it was still really creepy, and he was still terrified of him because of their past and because Anti did hurt him on accident a few times, but then whenever Anti did realize he had gone too far, he would like purr at him and pat him and garble things like “it’s okay” even though he could barely speak at the time. Chase was really scared about what he wanted from him, but he didn’t hurt him at least. so Chase stopped screaming so much and just started clamming up, like, constantly. he would just be this frozen little guy in the corner, never meeting Anti’s eyes unless he had to. being that scared actually made Chase really compliant, so Anti was able to teach him things like eat when I tell you to, stop fussing when I pull on your hair, take care of this plant so that you will be less sad, etc.

Chase was really confused by Anti’s attempts to make him less depressed. why does this demon want him to keep a garden and feed the chickens?? um??

Anti gave him space for a long time. The thing about this Anti is that honestly he’s not that much nicer than any of the others, but unlike the others, who understand that Chase has the same intellectual and emotional powers as they do, this Anti truly does not see Chase as being all that much more than an animal. it’s gross, yeah, but it did allow him to be nicer to Chase because to him it wasn’t like someone equally as smart as him was purposefully causing him problems, it was like if he had adopted a dog off the streets and the dog was really scared of him because it had been beaten in the past or something. so Anti is just like “it’s a little scared animal so I will just be really nice to it and take care of it and one day it will warm up to me! cute human”

(his perspective on humans might have changed a little since those first few months, but that was definitely his premise at the time).

Chase started to grow comfortable around Anti because honestly his brain like HAD to find a way to cope with the fact that this wasn’t ending. he couldn’t accept emotionally that this horrible, horrible monster was going to keep him a prisoner forever - no one could - so he changed his perspective. this is why Chase calling Anti “he” instead of “it” is really important. Chase subconsciously started to find ways to see Anti as more human and less the terrifying being that would scratch him in his sleep and haunt him with images of his dead child. (not to say that “it” is inherently dehumanizing if those are your pronouns in your language, but to Chase personally that was what it represented).

and to make him seem more human, Chase had to start doing human things with him!! Anti would always follow Chase around, just watching him because he’s always liked to do that, and one day Chase really timidly asked if Anti wanted to help him feed the chickens. and he started to look for ways that Anti’s expressions and curiosity and learning were human and normal and comprehensible to them. and actually, he started to think it was kind of cute the way that Anti is kind of like a kid when it comes to human things and needs to learn. he started to kind of enjoy hanging out with him because he could teach Anti things like cooking and how to talk and Anti would be so curious and determined and just, like, really interested in Chase himself!!! if you remember the first fic, part of the reason Chase fell apart from Henrik was because Henrik became obsessed with time travel and didn’t have time for Chase, and Chase was totally isolated from all his neighbors too... but then, after all that time of feeling totally alone, here’s somebody who just thinks Chase is really great and clever and fun and always wants to hang around him! and Anti was positive and cheerful with Chase, loving that his pet was letting him in a little bit more. which moved Chase on to step two: letting Anti convince him that he’s the one who loves him, he’s the one who takes care of him, and it was good for Chase that Anti has kidnapped him and keeps him as a prisoner. And Chase was just so scared and Anti was so warm and cuddly and always bringing him treats and games and anything he wanted and taking care of him and telling him he’s his good nice little human...

yeah lads you guessed it it’s that sweet sweet Stockholm Syndrome. and honestly Chase is even aware of this sometimes, which is why he has conversations with Anti where he’s like “you know you like literally kidnapped me right??” and Anti’s genuinely does not see the problem. Chase has doubts sometimes, but because Anti’s been taking care of him and loving on him in his own messed-up way for so long (and Chase was really love-starved!!), and because he has to have a way to cope with what’s going on, he’s allowed Anti to convince him that Anti knows what’s best for him and that he would kill himself if he were left alone without him :(((

plus there’s that whole character trait of Chase being really interested in stories about like “chosen ones” and going on supernatural adventures and things like that, so, paired with the fact that he was honestly too depressed and sick from withdrawal and grief to fight Anti very hard or even find the energy to want to get free of him and go back to his old life, Chase let himself settle into this new life and started searching for ways to prove to himself that Anti is actually one of the nice monsters in the stories he used to read as a kid. and Anti is constantly reminding him of how bad his life was before Anti came and took him away. over time, Chase has learned to be grateful.

and then the last thing is that honestly Anti and Chase get along really well!! they really truly have a lot of fun with each other! Chase feels like he can be himself around Anti and he loves teaching him things, and Anti loves spending time with his pet and entertaining him and making Chase happy. it’s a weird dynamic because in a way both of them feel like they have to take care of each other. Anti has to keep Chase alive and sees himself as his hero, but Chase feels a need to teach Anti things he needs to know because he’s really paternal and lets himself perceive Anti as childish and emotionally needy to excuse the fact that he kidnapped him and does things like slapping him. it’s not his fault!! he’s just a little new to the human world!! Chase can teach him to treat him right, he’s sure of it. he refuses to see Anti as this ancient, terrifying monster. that was the old Anti. this is his Anti. this is his monster, and he loves him.

[anika-ann]

Let’s Do Something Different Tonight (Or Not)

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 1840

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Characters: Matt Murdock, Reader, few others mentioned

Summary: It’s been two years since the day you married Matt and tonight, you’re going out to celebrate, like normal couples do. --Yeah, about that...

Warnings: blood and injury, mention of alcohol, attempt at humour (bordering on crack-ish)

A/N: A post Valentine’s day fic for everyone who has deals with loveable idiots. It’s hard to with them sometimes. Often, it’s even harder without them. Enjoy!

Matt was almost on time. You had your reservation for eight and it was five after eight when he finally showed up at his – and for a while now, also yours – apartment, so you would be able to make it to the restaurant only a little late.

Key word? ‘Would’. That would be if he hadn’t used the rooftop access instead of the front door and hadn’t been clutching his side when he stumbled in with his hair being a perfect mess with a smear of blood in it.

You stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him as he walked down the stairs with an apologizing expression.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said out, hissing as he stepped down the last stair with not so much grace. You just kept staring, this time incredulously. “I got mugged,” he explained, his lips turning into a reversed U. Also, blood was now soaking though his suit under his fingers.

You shook your head to snap yourself from your trance, reaching for the hem of your dress only to pull it over your head. When you tossed them over one of the armchairs and turned to Matt to give him the attention he deserved and needed, he looked utterly taken aback.

“What are you doing?” he asked, perfectly baffled.

“I’m not playing doctor with you in this dress. It’s new. I don’t want blood on it.”

It was expensive. You had chosen it carefully – just like the rest of your new clothes ever since you had gotten together with Matt –, paying extra attention to the material, anxious about the fabric feeling good under Matt’s fingers. Shopping had kinda become a nightmare since you had to pick clothes which not only looked good, but mainly felt good; however, with the way Matt appreciated it, it was totally worth it.

“The material sounded really soft. You looked beautiful in it.”

You scratched your forehead, abashed, as you walked to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, returning to Matt who seated himself on the couch, stripping his jacket to reveal a huge bloodstain on his shirt.

“Jesus, Matt.”

The man in question honest to god pouted. “You’ll wear that dress again, right?”

“Of course I will,” you reassured him tiredly as he took off the shirt as well. “That was the whole point of stripping it – keep it clean of bloodstains so I can wear it again…. for our like, thirtieth anniversary when you won’t be coming home bleeding anymore.”

“I had to let them cut me. I didn’t even call the police to make it home faster. I was trying-“

“I’m sorry, you what?” you asked incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“I was trying?” he repeated hesitantly, well-aware that it wasn’t the part that caught your… ear, so to speak.

“No, no, did you just say you let them cut you, didn’t call the police, so you could be home faster? Are you insane?”

“I didn’t want you to wait. We rarely get out for a dinner or something else. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Though I did come after the guys to chase down my wallet because that would mean a whole new set of time-demanding problems. But don’t worry, I crashed the lights before I went down on them,” he added hastily as if it would made the whole situation better.

You wordlessly let the gloves smack against your skin louder than necessary. Matt winced.

“Matt Murdock, I love you, I love what you’re willing to do for me and the world, but I swear to God, sometimes you’re just being utterly, utterly stupid. Priorities, Matt. Now show me.”

It turned out that Matt hadn’t let them cut him once, but twice. And by ‘cut’ he meant what could almost be called a stab wound. You silently worked your way through it, reminding yourself to buy Claire another fruit basket. A year supply of chocolate. Spa weekend, maybe. She had not only taught you the basics of the first aid to reckless loveable idiots, but also had shared her tips and tricks that she had discovered during the years of working on ER, making your life easier.

Matt was wisely silent while you were stitched him up – whether it was because he was controlling himself not to let out a single sound of distress or because he didn’t want to piss you off by saying something to make you snap, you didn’t know.

“Do you really think I prefer you getting home earlier so we wouldn’t miss our reservation coming with the price of you being injured to actually showing up healthy?” you asked as you finished your work of art.

His pout grew bigger, providing you the answer.

“Christ, Matt.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly fight them off, at least not completely. Identity and stuff,” Matt defended his actions. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of something being a little strange about him. Like… stranger than usual. The way he talked…

“Well, you still didn’t need to get cut or— or at least you could have deflect it partly, this is awfully deep. Was. All done now.” Truth to your words, you stripped the gloves, rolling them up and placing them on the coffee table. You looked at his face, running your hand through his sweaty hair. He leaned into it slightly, like always. “Oh Matt… what do I do with a man like you?”

“Kiss the pain better?” he offered shyly, the corners of his lips twitching. You rolled your eyes at this ridiculous man.

“Ha! You’re hilarious!” His expression changed, transferring into- “Oh crap, not the puppy eyes. Come on, Matt, don’t-”

You sighed, leaning in, kissing him lightly on the lips. You were never able to resist the huge imploring eyes of his.

“I hate you,” you murmured as you withdrew – or wanted to, his lips following yours instead, sinking into them, caressing gently, testing your will when nibbling on your lower lip.

Oh, he always knew what to do to keep your fingers tingling, to have your heart fluttering – the feeling might have faded a little with the years, but it was still here. You opened your mouth for him, a clear invitation for his tongue. He didn’t hesitate.

“And I love you,” he breathed into your mouth, his hand rising.

“Don’t touch the bra-“ you warned him, curling your fingers around his wrist to stop him. You withdrew so it didn’t temp him. The bra wasn’t nearly as expensive as the dress, but it wasn’t cheap either.

“But it’s laced and they always feel so, so nice-“ he whimpered and you blinked. Okay, that was new. Seriously, where had his brain (possibly lower brain)-mouth filter left to?

“Maybe, but it’s also skin-toned. Not blood-toned. You smear it with blood and I’m not wearing it again.”

“But you said we were playing doctor,” he noted, looking honestly confused. You had really said that? And what the hell was it with him…?

You gaped at him when the realization finally hit you.

“Oh my god. Are you drunk?”

Matt was silent for a short moment; the kind of an answer that spoke volumes. Matt Murdock was drunk.

“…the client insisted on two glasses of scotch…,” Matt admitted with hesitation and you sensed some sort of a ‘but’ coming. “And then said the third time was a charm.”

Three glasses of scotch?!

“So you’re not only late for our anniversary dinner, you’ve not only gotten yourself half-stabbed, but you’re also drunk. Wow. I want a divorce,” you stated resolutely, only joking of course. Still, you couldn’t believe him. It should have been your night out. Together as a couple. To celebrate the two years you had been together as husband and wife. And he… wow. You probably should be mad, anyone else would be, but… you were kinda used to dealing with Matt’s bullshit (to be fair, Matt also had to deal with yours) and it was usually more scary and life-threatening. This was actually kinda funny. The drunk part anyway. “You think Foggy will charge me a fortune if I hire him?”

Matt frowned. “You don’t mean that. And if you did, do you honestly think he would represent you?”

You raised your eyebrow, waiting for him to realize what he had just said. Of course Foggy would represent you. You were plotting against Matt together oh so often… he would take your side. Matt probably came to same conclusion, because he grimaced.

“Yeah, he probably would. Well, would want to and then Marci would bully him so she could take your side instead of him.”

“I barely know Marci,” you noted, confused.

“Yeah, but she’s up to a challenge and she always claimed me and Foggy will get married one day and  was actually jealous of me. She would take any opportunity to take our duo down in one strike.”

“I thought Foggy was friends with her.”

“They are somewhere between friends and frenemies. I guess that happens when you end the whole friends with benefits thing.”

Huh. Marci was still bitter about that? Who would think Mrs. No Strings Attached had feelings? To be fair, Foggy was insanely likeable, so you could really blame her-

…why were you thinking about Marci?

“After all this time… you still manage to distract me perfectly,” you complained, actually ashamed. Damn you, Murdock. And Murdock.

Matt tilted his head slightly, challenging. “I know a whole lot more ways of distracting you. If I wash my hands, can I touch the bra? I mean, we’re already too late for the dinner, aren’t we?”

You watched him incredulously for a minute; his messy hair which was the result of him rushing home, his absolutely not kissable lips inconspicuously pursed, his hopeful eyes with a spark of mischievousness somehow seeing you even after losing sight. Your gaze flickered to the fine suit he had prepared for the dinner. It was too late to go to the restaurant, wasn’t it?

When you looked back at him, you could tell he knew he had won, because a tiny smile appeared on his face, a careful elevation of the corners of his lips.

You sighed. You were so weak. “Go wash your bloody hands, you overgrown child. We’re going to bed.”

“Love you,” he chipped happily and kissed your cheek, rushing to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes at him fondly.

“I’m on top, you’re injured!” you shouted after him, closing the box with medical supplies and walking to the fridge to get Matt a glass of juice. He needed liquids and sugar dammit.

“Whatever you say, honey!”

You blinked, taken aback. ‘Honey?’ Matt had never called you that – mostly he stuck to your name or a nickname, occasionally calling you ‘love’ if he was being particularly tender. Endearments weren’t his thing.

Oh boy, he really was so royally drunk, wasn’t he?

You smiled for yourself at the idea. This should be fun.

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Thank you for reading! 

If you enjoy Matt fics, I’ll be posting a few more RI, but mostly I’ve written for Matt x OFC. 

If interested, check out my M.M. masterlist ;)

[spiderman-homecomeme]

day two - i found

SOULMATE AU

A/N: Here we are!! day 2!! I have been having so much fun looking at what everyone’s created! our fandom is so talented!! now, i have made it no secret how i feel about soulmate aus (lmao) but I found myself really enjoying working on this one! the title is based off of the song by Amber Run!

Again thank you so much @spideychelleweek​ for organizing this!!

And a HUGE thank you to @machiavelien​ for creating such a beautiful work of art to go with this story!!! You are amazing!! Find it here.

So, without further ado, here is an 8.6k (phew) colorblind soulmate au filled with fluff, angst, and love!

Read here or on AO3 

-

                                                              i.

The words of the textbook melt and warp together, his brain unable to focus on the convoluted phrase structure long enough to take in any of the information. 

So far, studying for that first decathlon meet in Philly has been going… not too well.

Peter tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie—the one May so graciously marked with a label that reads “blue”—before pulling the hood down over his eyes. He takes a deep breath, a moment to try and reset, before pulling it back, the brightness of the gray and white room almost blinding. 

At the beginning of the spring semester, he’d figured he could get a good change of pace by going to the library for his free seventh period everyday instead of his usual, the empty band room. Maybe studying in a place that specifically promotes concentration and learning would prove to be much more helpful. 

For the most part, it’s worked for him. He’s able to at least get half a page in until recently.

Now, his mind starts to drift to the girl in black and gray sitting at the table across from him. 

He knows Michelle, mostly from Acadec. Sometimes he passes her in the hallway on the way to Advanced Physics, and she’s been in a handful of the same classes as him since the beginning of high school. Sometimes she makes funny comments—usually under her breath—during lectures, and he has to either keep himself from snickering, or take a moment to try and understand whatever she just said. When he greets to her in between decathlon practice and meets, she most of the time only offers a tight-lipped smile and nod in return. 

But while he knows who she is, and while he certainly sees her a lot, he still doesn’t know her. 

This—both of them sitting in the library during 7th period right before practice—has happened a lot more often since the beginning of the new semester. Michelle’s always sitting in that same spot, nose stuck in what seems like a different book every other day. Peter’s not sure if he’s really coming here every day because it’s a good study spot, because he always somehow gets distracted by the fact that he has the best opportunity to make a brand new friend. His own thought process here becomes a bit too distracting.

So, he decides that he needs to make a change. 

Peter wants to get to know Michelle. Maybe get a laugh or two out of her. Be her friend. 

The next day, at the same free period during seventh hour, he pushes the doors open to the library. His eyes fall on the same sight; the same students sitting in their same places, Michelle included. 

He moves to her table, yet his pace slows the closer he gets as his nerves get the best of him. He hasn’t really thought of what he wants to say, or even how he wants to go about this. It isn’t like this is all that difficult in theory. Michelle is just a person; not someone that he should be afraid to talk to. 

In his internal monologue, Peter hasn’t realized he’s made it to her table. She clears her throat, knocking him out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, Michelle,” he says, startled, still trying to get his bearings. 

“Uh… hey. Peter,” she offers, thumb tapping against the pages of her book as she glances from side to side. “What’s up?”

“Can…” Peter breathes, still not sure where this question is going. “Is anyone sitting here?” He asks dumbly. 

MJ’s expression remains impassive, though her eyes narrow the slightest bit. “Yeah.”

Peter’s mouth forms into a small ‘o’ as he rocks back in his heels, now unsure as to what he should be doing. “Uh, cool. Nevermind.”

But quickly, MJ shakes her head, seeming to be just as ansty as he is. “I’m kidding. Just—Just messing with you.” She gives a faint, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grin before looking down at her book again. 

“Oh.” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “So…” He points to the chair. “I—I can sit here?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.”

Peter slowly pulls out the chair across from her, his movements deafeningly loud in the quiet of the library. He throws a sheepish grin over his shoulder as he sits, gently dropping his things on the ground beside him. 

For a moment, they sit in silence, Michelle reading and Peter… well, Peter not knowing what to do with himself. He pulls out his physics book, ready to study again, mulling over some possible conversation topics in his head as he cracks it open. He doesn’t want to seem too nosey, so he refrains from thinking of anything too personal.

He returns to his bag, grabbing his notebook, seeing the bag of pretzels he had packed this morning for an afternoon snack. Peter pulls that out too, setting it on the table and opening it. 

They sit in silence for a while longer, Peter quietly munching on his salty snacks. He can feel Michelle glance up at him every so often, and he immediately feels himself warm under her fleeting gaze. 

He looks up at her, mumbling a ‘sorry’ as he tries to quiet his chewing, still struggling to come up with something—anything—to talk about. 

She waves him off, the corners of her mouth quirking downward into a slight, unbothered frown. 

“You want some?” He asks after another beat, holding out his ziploc bag. 

And again, Michelle’s gaze shifts to his for the briefest of moments, her cheek resting against her knuckles. At first, she doesn’t say anything, only lowering her book the slightest bit. But then, she reaches out, taking a pretzel. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. 

“You’re welcome,” Peter says almost as quietly. 

And they sit like that for the rest of seventh period, reading and munching on pretzel sticks in an awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable silence. It’s not much, but Peter can’t help but feel that it’s a step forward in their friendship. 

They’re both so content in their sharing that they don’t notice when they reach at the same time for the same piece. His hand brushes hers, a fleeting touch before they both pull back immediately, both of them apologizing. Yet, as quickly as it had ended, Peter swears he can still feel the warmth of her fingertips. 

And when he looks up to meet her gaze, he’s sure she can still feel the coolness of his. 

He clears his throat in an effort to mask his nervous chuckle. When the final bell rings, he’s unsure of whether or not he considers himself saved. Sure, from further embarrassment yes, but he finds himself wanting the hour to keep going.

Still, as much as he wants to get to know Michelle, he can’t help but feel that they’ll be just fine.

                                                              ii.

“MJ?” Peter asks through a mouthful of popcorn as they lay on the living room floor of his aunt’s apartment, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah?” She asks, not fully tilting her head towards him, curiosity piqued. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

She just manages to muffle the snort of laughter that escapes her, quickly glancing at at a sleeping Ned on the couch, making sure her sudden outburst didn’t wake him. Turning her attention back to Peter, her face is scrunched. “What?”

She almost thinks that he’s joking. He has to be. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He repeats earnestly.

“Dude, you remember that neither of us has a soulmate yet, right? The only colors we can actually see are gray, white, and black. That’s only three options.”

“Yeah, I know, but—” Peter sits up on his elbows. “—Like… what do you think your favorite color is?”

MJ follows, staring at him incredulously. 

“Okay okay okay,” he relents before a pause, his expression calculating as he tries to find a way to better explain himself. He sits upright, arms rested on his knees as he takes another moment’s contemplation. “Like—we know about certain colors, right? Because there are other people we know who have found their soulmates. May and Ben, your sister and her husband, and now… Ned and Betty. And they—they know what everything looks like. They see every single color. So, I dunno, we’ve heard a lot about them. We may not be able to see them, but…” 

He looks up to find MJ still staring at him, though it’s a softer look, not as harsh and confused. “We can try to understand them,” she nods. 

“Exactly!” Peter says, smile returning. “So, like—I think my favorite color would be red.”

“Red?” MJ asks. 

“Yeah. May’s always talked about how it was her and Ben’s favorite color. And when she tells me about it, I dunno, I’m just kinda drawn to it, I guess.” He shrugs. “I think it’s because it’s a color that’s attached to a lot of really intense emotions? Like, yeah, anger’s one of them, but it’s also love and—and… passion, and... It’s just bold. Ned says it’s like a really warm, really hot color.”

“You’ve really thought a lot about this, huh?” MJ watches him, the corner of her mouth turning upward. 

“Yeah…” Peter’s smile turns timid, sheepish even, as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s—It’s weird I know. Forget I asked—”

“—No.” MJ stops him. “No, it’s fine.” 

Peter nods in understanding.

A beat passes. 

“I think blue would be mine.” MJ says softly. 

“How come?” Peter asks in a barely audible voice. 

She sits in silence for a moment before speaking again. “Well, everyone always says that the ocean’s blue, the sky’s blue… that it’s a really calming color. This one website I read said that it represented calmness and tranquility. Wisdom, too.” 

“You’ve thought about it, too?” Peter asks hopefully. 

MJ gives a single, slow nod. “I’ve done some googling in my spare time.”

“Cool,” Peter grins. “What do you think it’s like when you kiss your soulmate?” 

The faint scoff that comes out of his friend causes his stomach to do a tiny flip. “You haven’t heard Ned talk about it enough?” MJ cracks a smile, shaking her head. 

“Well, I mean, yeah…” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “But, like… I feel like it’s different for everyone, you know?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Another moment of true quiet passes as they both think. MJ sits up fully now, mirroring Peter’s seated position. 

“What do you think it’s like?” MJ throws the question back at him. 

Peter glances away, suddenly finding the skin on his thumb very interesting. “I dunno…” He mumbles with a shy shrug as he starts to play with the edge of the throw blanket. But he can feel MJ’s eyes on him, waiting and expecting, but still holding a certain gentleness to them. He sighs, letting his hands fall onto his knees again. “You know when you’re listening to this really amazing song, maybe a symphony or something, and it like—swells and crescendos to this beautiful chord—maybe with some dissonance and resolution in there? And you just get goosebumps, and you feel so warm and—”

“Like Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet?” MJ teases, just lightly. “The one that always plays in movies and TV shows?”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that one.” He’s quiet again, lips twisting in thought before his face lights up again. “Or like, when you’re reading a really good book, and you’re at the end, it’s happy, and everything’s working out and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy? Maybe there was some bad stuff in the middle, but when you get to that point in the story, you know that everything’s gonna be okay, even if you don’t quite understand why? And then… when you open your eyes… the world just looks so different?”

“Wow, aren’t you a romantic,” MJ deadpans, though when Peter glances up at her, he can see the faint smirk tugging at her lips. She nudges him gently with her shoulder. “I’m kidding. Kind of. Still cheesy, but—” she pauses, shrugging. “It’s sweet. It sounds… It sounds nice,” she decides.

And once again, for the umpteenth time that night, Peter can only grin at her. “It does,” he agrees. “Do you think you’ll ever meet your soulmate?”

“Better question: do I even want to meet my soulmate?” MJ counters. 

“What do you mean?”

It’s MJ’s turn to feel the spotlight, and she does almost the exact same thing to distract herself. She picks at stray threads on the gray blanket. “I don’t know, I mean… I feel like this whole soulmate thing… I feel like it takes the choice out of it, if that makes sense?”

Peter tilts his head in confusion. 

“We’re supposed to have free will, right? As humans. I mean, we can debate on whether or not we actually have free will, but that’s not the point. But—” She pauses, tilting her head from side to side, weighing her words. “What if I never meet my soulmate? Do I just… wait for them until I’m dead? What if my soulmate doesn’t want to be with me? What if my soulmate is a terrible person? Do I have to be with them because they’re who fate, or the gods, or whatever higher power picked for me?”

“I don’t think your soulmate would be a terrible person, MJ.” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” she reasons.

“Your soulmate’s supposed to be perfect for you.”

“But what if I don’t want perfect?” She asks. “And what if… what if my soulmate dies in some tragic accident? Am I just doomed to never love again? Is my soulmate my one chance at true, controlled, measured happiness?”

Peter goes silent for a moment, brows pinched together, lips twisted in thought. “I guess I… I guess I never really thought about it that way.” He sighs. “But don’t you… Don’t you ever want to see what the world looks like not in black and white?”

“I mean, if I found the right person, I don’t think it’d matter what colors the world was or what I could or couldn’t see… as long as I had them, right?”

A small, teasing smile tugs at Peter’s lips. “Now who’s the romantic?”

“Shut up, loser.” MJ rolls her eyes.

“It’s so cute.”

“I swear to God—”

“—no really. Adorable.”

“I’m going to murder you—”

“—awww. Love you too, MJ.”

She lets out a long exasperated sigh, falling back onto the carpet, rubbing her eyes with her hands. The entire time, that same stupid, smug, teasing grin stays on Peter’s face; and honestly, he can’t help it. 

He also can’t help but feel that MJ has a point about this whole soulmate thing. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s not something that he should be striving for, not something he should really be all that worried about. 

With the right person, whoever they are, the world around them doesn’t matter. 

But still, there’s a part of him that knows he’ll always be curious about it. Who did the universe consider to be his ultimate match, his equal in every possible way? Would he ever meet them? What were they doing right this very moment? He also wonders if he’s already met this person, if he’s seen them in passing on the street. 

He thinks of all the chances he might have met this person, and he’s filled with this strange sense of anxiety. 

But again, maybe that’s why MJ was right about this; the very idea of the perfect person being out there for you proved only to be debilitating knowledge. In a way, he could see that it might keep someone from living their life to the fullest. They might miss out on meaningful, true relationships and friendships in order to make room for someone they might never have the chance of meeting, all to see the world in bright, vivid color. 

Besides, it’s really not something he needs to worry too much about. He’s got his friends and family; May, Mr. Stark even… Ned…

And MJ.

                                                             iii.

“Wanna hear something cool?” Ned asks MJ as they wait for the first five minute warning bell to ring before school starts. 

She looks up at him from behind her book, one brow quirked in his direction. “What?”

“Your sweater—” He looks down at her outfit. He pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s red.”

Her expression falls, and she stares at him, unimpressed. “Wow.”

It’s not like that trick’s getting old or anything. 

 “—And your shirt’s—”

“—Ned.”

Ned immediately shuts his mouth, though it’s easy to see the smile hiding. “My bad.”

“All good,” she says slowly, throwing a warning glare, though her eyes quickly soften—consciously or not, it’s not clear—when she sees they’re friend Peter enter the library. 

Ned and MJ exchange a knowing glance, understanding that today of all days is one where they have to really embrace this whole Peter Parker Protection Squad™ thing. They both know this day well; the anniversary of his Uncle Ben’s death is always hard. And every year, they are there for Peter. There to comfort him, to talk to him, to listen to him, or even just to be in the same room as him. Whatever he needs, they are more than happy to provide. 

So, when he acts completely normal, as if nothing’s wrong at all, they’re confused. 

He moves quickly and quietly, plopping his stuff down at the table with them wordlessly. He seems to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him; he looks up, brow furrowed as he eyes them both carefully. “Uh, hey guys.”

Ned’s the first to speak. “Hey, man. How’re you doing?”

Peter’s gaze shifts left and right as he lets out a light scoff. “...Good?”

“Pete,” MJ cuts in, faint concern disguised under a veil of nonchalance. “You okay?”

Peter only seems to get more weirded out. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Again, Ned and MJ exchange looks, neither of them really wanting to explicitly say it, lest they ruin his mood. 

Ned clears his throat, nudging MJ under the table. 

She wants to slap him, but she doesn’t, and instead turns again to Peter. “It’s just… we know that… today is usually… kind of a hard day.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah.” Peter’s expression falls for a split-second, before returning back to normal. He shakes his head. “No. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Ned asks, unsure himself.

MJ isn’t too convinced either. 

Peter gives a short, resolute sigh, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

But both Ned and MJ continue to worry throughout the rest of the school day. Peter just doesn’t seem himself. Yes, he’s acting positive, smiling and joking like he normally does, but they can both tell that something’s not quite right. There’s tension behind his eyes in every smile, like it pains him—even though he hides it well—to force such an expression. To anyone else, he might seem fine, just like he’d claimed to be this morning, but Ned and MJ—they know him better than anyone else. 

The two of them text back and forth throughout the day, making sure they’re both following the same set of rules they gave themselves. But Peter never gives them a reason to implement any of those rules. 

Finally, as the last bell rings, Ned and MJ talk at his locker. 

“I think you should try to go to Peter’s tonight.” He tries to say quietly, but just loud enough so that she can hear over the chatter of students. “I gotta work, but I’m gonna try to switch shifts with someone so I can show up later.”

MJ nods solemnly. “Got it.”

“I think May has to work late tonight, so he might be by himself,” Ned adds. “Not that anything bad’s gonna happen, but I dunno… He might like to have the company, you know?”

“I know,” MJ gives another understanding nod. “I’ll text you.”

Ned gives a single thumbs up, and they part ways. 

MJ only gives it about an hour and a half after school’s out to head over to Peter’s. She doesn’t text him or anything—as per usual—but she does debate on giving him some kind of heads-up. Before five, she’s at his apartment, climbing up to the seventh floor, her feet feeling as if they’re made of lead with every step she takes. 

She raps lightly on the door, three gentle knocks, and is met with radio silence. She knocks again, a little more insistent this time, the sound echoing hollowly in the building, and still no response. It’s then that she takes liberty, opening the door, surprised to find it unlocked. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen. MJ steps in, her footsteps leading her to the open living room. Her heart nearly snaps in half seeing Peter just sitting there, curled up by himself, staring into the cold fireplace. 

She stands there a moment, waiting to see if he’ll acknowledge her, to see if he’ll invite her to sit with him. 

But he stays silent, his lips pressing together tightly. 

“Hey,” She offers softly with a weak wave of her hand. 

Finally, Peter spares her a look, his eyes red-rimmed, his hair disheveled. The corners of his mouth twitch upward into another forced, anaemic smile. “Hi.”

She doesn’t ask how he’s doing, knowing that it’s not a very smart question at the moment. Instead, she asks, “Can I sit?”

Wordlessly, he scoots over for her, pulling the blanket wrapped around his shoulders with him. 

She lowers herself onto the couch, slowly, and for a long time, they only sit in silence. 

Eventually, Peter lets out a long, tired sigh. He leans forward. “I guess…” His voice is rough and raw from lack of use. He clears his throat. “I guess I just thought it would get easier, you know? And then… when it didn’t… I thought… well, maybe if I just fake it, if I pretend… then I can convince myself that it is, right?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “And clearly, it kinda backfired on me.”

MJ only nods, still listening. 

“And some days… it is easier. Most days, I’m fine. But then… everything just kinda… piles on all at once.” With a shake of his head, he sits back. “I don’t know, I guess… I guess I was thinking—or I guess trying to tell myself—that I was better, or that—that I was done? I don’t know. I mean, I know that it’s not going to be easy. At all.” He huffs, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense right now, I’m sorry—”

“—Peter, it’s okay,” MJ says, shifting so that she can face him on the couch. “It’s okay,” she repeats. “It’s—It’s okay to grieve. You don’t have to convince yourself that you’re done; that after a certain point, you have to stop. There’s no timeline for it.” MJ insists. “Believe me, I know it never gets easier, but it’s okay to allow yourself to miss him.” She grabs his hand. “It’s okay.”

Peter looks up at her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. His mouth twitches, his chin trembling violently as he gives her hand a hard squeeze. 

She squeezes his hand back. 

                                                            iv.

It’s a really dumb excuse, and Peter knows it. 

MJ definitely knows it. 

But it’s probably the only one he could even think of in the moment. There wasn’t a lot of time between the distant crashing, the loud wail of sirens, the police cars zooming by, and the panicked screams for him to come up with something a bit more believable.

No, “Uh… I have to go… Call my… aunt…” was probably in his top ten most piss-poor excuses to date. 

Really, nearly four years of being Spider-Man and he still doesn’t have this whole thing down.

Which is why MJ figured it out approximately less than four months into their friendship. 

But now, as she watches him lamely run away in the opposite direction of her, she can’t help but feel the slightest bit frustrated that he hasn’t figured out that she knows already. Sure, she doesn’t really need him to tell her, mostly because one, she already knows, and two, it’s his business. If he never wanted to tell her, fine. It wasn’t going to end their friendship. 

Honestly, though, she could do without the bad lies. 

At least try harder, dude. 

And then, there’s also the small part of her that always gets annoyingly worried at the idea that this idiot—her best friend—is constantly putting himself in danger. There’s this thought, this fear, every time he says his bullshit, every time he runs away to fight some bad guys, that he’s not going to come back at all. That she’s going to lose him. 

And that’s why, right then and there, she decides to follow him into the fire.

It might be just as stupid for her to do it as it is for him—given she doesn’t even have powers—she knows this… But again, it doesn’t stop her. 

It doesn’t take long to find the scene; all she has to do is follow the sound of lies and other bullshit, and maybe some of the shouting and what not. 

As it turns out, a small group of men had broken into a Jewelry store, but in their attempt to infiltrate the security system, one of the breakers had exploded, alerting absolutely everyone nearby. 

Spider-Man, of course, now in his gray and black suit, is there in no time. He webs up the leader first, blasting him in the face with a quick click of his webshooter. Two others try to sneak up on him, but Spidey leaps out of the way, webbing both goons before they can even find him again. 

The fourth guy sees his ever so slim chances of winning, weighing his options, before bolting for the door, but that masked vigilante’s faster. 

Once he’s got four out of five of the guys webbed up, he can see that the last one—the tech guy, he’s guessing—is nowhere to be found. 

MJ sees all of this, of course, from just outside the police perimeter, when out of the corner of her eye, she sees the last goon getting away. She makes a break for it, taking a shortcut through the alley to meet him at the next street. Something in her forces her to run faster, and she’s not sure what, but she knows that this has to work. 

She waits behind a corner, the fast approaching footsteps falling with the erratic hammering of her heart. Slowing her breath in an effort to calm herself, she waits. Along with the criminal, she can hear the thwip-thwip of Peter following, swinging from the rooftops above. He seems to have caught on as well. 

The man gets closer and closer, and quickly, MJ acts, sticking her leg out, tripping the runaway effectively. It’s an old, borderline cartoon-y trick, and honestly, she’s a little surprised it works so well. The man falls, groaning as he face plants into the asphalt below. 

Spidey drops down in front of him, instantly blasting him into a web cocoon. 

The masked hero turns. “Hey, great job, citizen—” His mechanical eyes widen when he looks up to see just who helped him out. “What are you doing here? I mean—” He at first demands, but then he remembers himself, clearing his throat. “What—Uh, what are you doing here, ma’am?”

“Was in the neighborhood. Hanging with a friend.” She replies, looking at her nails, the very essence of feigned nonchalance. “Then he ditched me, saying some dumb, bullshit excuse about how he had to go call his aunt. Have you seen him?”

She looks pointedly at him. 

His white, wide eyes narrow slightly. He brings a finger up to the side of his head. “Yeah. Yeah I got it.”

MJ rolls her eyes, knowing he’s probably talking to one of his superhero besties. 

Spider-Man continues to stare at her, and she stares right back.  

“M—Uh, ma’am.” He coughs. “Do you need a lift home?” 

MJ glances from left to right, her arms folding defensively across her chest. “Uh, no—”

Before she can add any sort of retort to the response, he’s scooping her up, leaping into the air and swinging the both of them away. 

“What the hell—” MJ shouts. “You’re just gonna leave that guy there?”

“Ms. Marvel’s got it,” He answers before letting go of the first web.

Her piercing screams go right into his ear as she clings for dear life to him. She doesn’t dare look at the ground below, instead burying her face into his shoulder, her eyes screwed shut as she waits for it all to just be over. No part of her even considers the idea of watching the world pass, of looking at the twinkling white city lights over blocks of dark gray and black. The wind whips around her violently with each swing, her hair flying in all directions as she begs Peter to put her down.

She’s just about gotten her bearings when he lands them on the rooftop of some nearby building. 

“You—You can’t just—! Do that!” She shouts at him, her voice shaky from all the screaming. 

He doesn’t waste any time as he rips off his mask. “What the hell were you thinking, MJ?”

She’s not even shocked seeing his face underneath, but she does take a step back when he moves to her. “What do you mean?” She shoots back defensively, arms folded across her chest. 

“You know what I mean!”

“I don’t see the problem here.”

“Are you crazy?” He groans in exasperation. “Putting yourself in danger like that? You could have been hurt!”

“Would you calm down?” She can feel the rising, white hot anger bubbling up in her chest, her throat feeling as if it’s been coated in barbed wire. “It’s not like it was one of your dumb Avengers-level bad guys. It was just some random guy.”

“That ‘random guy’ had a gun, MJ. What would you have done if he didn’t fall, or if I wasn’t there? Huh? You don’t have powers to keep you from getting hurt. What would you have done?”

Michelle stares back at him, mouth setting into a tight line.“I’m not a damsel in distress, Peter.”

“God, I know you’re not, but—” 

“You can’t control me, alright? And—” She groans in frustration, flexing her fingers. “If—if you don’t want me following you into stupid shit, then—then stop doing stupid shit!”

Her words give him pause. His gaze falls to the concrete, his jaw clenching as he releases a sharp exhale.

Another heavy silence falls.

When he finally speaks again, he struggles to bring his gaze to meet hers.

“MJ, please.” He roughly cards a hand through his hair. He takes a deep, shaky breath. When he looks up again, she can see the raw emotion in his face, the angry, pleading unshed tears threatening to fall. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad… But—but you can’t just… you can’t do that. Please. I don’t—I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you… It… It happened with… with… I can’t… I—God… if something happened to you...”

She sucks in a sharp breath, holding it, mouth parted slightly as she stands there, finding herself unable to speak.

“I can’t lose you, too.” He adds, his voice breaking. 

Instantly, she moves to him, and he crumples into her arms, his tears falling silently onto her black jacket. She wraps herself around him, holding him close. 

They stand there in silence, just holding each other. 

MJ squeezes him, pulling him even closer, as if he’d disappear if she let him go for even just a moment. “Pete, you’re not gonna lose me,” she murmurs into his neck.

He clings onto her even tighter in response, saying nothing. 

She shuts her eyes as she breathes with him, feeling her own tears falling down her cheek. Releasing a shaky sigh, she burrows herself into his shoulder, whispering, “You’ll never lose me.”

                                                              v.

Peter watches as the black liquid in his coffee slowly swirls into a much lighter gray. 

He adds more creamer when MJ’s not looking from her place at the tea bar, hoping that she doesn’t notice. Last time they’d gotten coffee together, she’d roasted him endlessly for how he took his international delight with a hint of actual coffee. 

She comes back to the table moments later, her own tea in one hand, her Italian notebook in the other. “Are you drinking milk?”

Damn.

“Shut up,” he pouts. 

“It’s okay,” she waves him off. “Coffee’s bad for children anyway. You’re just being smart.”

“Hey!” Peter sits back, mouth hanging open in offense. “I thought we were having a friendly, no nonsense study date.”

He tries not to stumble on that last word, and he succeeds (for the most part). Heat still rises to his face, burning his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

She shrugs, taking a sip of her hot tea. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop messing with you.”

He’s not sure if he ever wants her to stop.

“I should’ve known…” He trails off, shaking his head in mock disappointment. 

“Okay!” MJ sets her mug down. “If you’re done complaining, we should get started on chapter six.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he laughs. 

“Cool, so—”

Her words are cut off by the abrupt vibrating of her phone next to her on the table. 

She picks it up, brow furrowing as she reads the text message.

Peter pretends not to notice, though he can’t help the way his eyes strain just the slightest bit. Of course, it would be a complete accident if he happened to see her screen. 

There’s a minor twitch in her face, a cringe almost, when she finishes reading. Before he can even ask, she’s back to normal, putting her phone face down on the table. “Sorry,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“No, you’re good,” Peter says softly. He toys with the pencil in his hand, every so often glancing up at her to gauge her expression. 

His eyes ask the question he’s too scared to. 

“Harry,” she answers for him. “Wanting to… talk, I guess.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice is barely audible. “Are you… Are you going to?”

MJ leans forward, bracing herself on her elbows. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s just… I’m… Tired.” She lets out a half-hearted laugh.

Peter nods quietly, immediately understanding. 

After years of friendship, of the both of them constantly seeing other people, they had both thought Harry was the one for her. 

But, after a single kiss, nothing had changed, and he left. 

And now, he wanted to talk again?

Peter could see her frustration, her weariness. 

“He’s done this before… once. And he changed his mind. Just like the first time. I’m not dealing with that shit again,” she says, folding her arms and pulling them to her chest.

“No, I totally get it.”

She cracks a small, yet genuine smile. “I know you do.”

And he did know. In fact, the same had happened to him. He’d thought he’d found the one with Gwen, only for her to bail months into their relationship. After their first kiss, after the black and white stayed, she swore up and down that it didn’t bother her. 

But all along, all those months after, Peter knew that it did, deep down. 

Sure, Gwen didn’t give him the run around Harry was giving MJ, but it was still painful. 

And with his understanding, there’s this strange sense of… he’s not sure, relief? Relief that none of the people MJ’s dated in the past few years have been her “soulmate.” No one’s been deemed her complete match yet. There was always this knot in his stomach when she’d go out with someone like Brad or Felicia, and then he’d find himself feeling as if the weight was lifted when she’d come home, still seeing in shades of black and white. 

He wondered if she ever felt the same. 

He tries not to think about that particular feeling throughout the rest of their study-date. Of course, that proves to be extremely difficult, given what she means to him. 

He’d be an idiot and a liar if he said he hadn’t had some form of crush on MJ throughout their friendship. That was all it was to him. A dumb, silly crush on his best friend. One that would go away as time went on. 

But the more he thinks about it, sitting here, the more he realizes how they just… make sense. What, with their long, close history, the intimate secrets and moments shared between them, all of it. He honestly, truly, cannot picture any sort of life without her. 

And then there had been all those times that Ned would joke about Peter and MJ being soulmates, calling them “PJ,” poking fun at their close friendship. To all of that, the both of them had vehemently denied any sort of romance between them. 

It didn’t make sense. 

But now, years later, both of them older and a little wiser...

It made sense. 

All of those people they’d dated, and nothing ever working out. It had to be. All these years they’ve been searching and waiting—even though neither or them would admit that this soulmate stuff even mattered to them at this point—and all along, it was right in front of them. 

And here he is, sitting across from her in a gray scale coffee shop, not able to hear her drilling questions over the sound of himself thinking about how much he likes being with her.

MJ’s right in front of him.

And it hits him then as she gently smacks his arm, telling him to pay attention, to stop staring, and she calls him loser...

He’s stupidly in love with Michelle Jones. 

MJ.

His best friend. 

Suddenly, after such a revelation, he finds that speaking is damn near impossible. He sputters, apologizing (somewhat, he can’t really get coherent words out), and she gives him this funny look that he can’t quite identify, and it brings about this fluttering in his heart that he can’t quite explain.

It’s a moment he wants painted forever in his mind. 

But then, they go back to studying, the moment is gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and  Peter is forced to sit on this new information he’d just gathered only ten seconds before. 

That night, Peter paces the carpeted floor of his apartment, beating himself up for not realizing any of this—any of his feelings for MJ—sooner. His first thought is that he’s too late. She couldn’t have felt anything for him now, at this point in their friendship, right? They couldn’t have both been so stupid and blind to each other’s feelings. 

If there was any chance for them to become more than friends, it was certainly gone by now. 

Sleep doesn’t come that night. He tosses and turns, haunted by the teasing, adorable toothy grins; quiet snorts of laughter or the quiet, deadpan stares whenever he does something stupid; curls falling in her face as she looks down to hide a smile. 

And now, Peter’s not sure how he’s ever going to function normally around her ever again. 

The next day, he finds her at the campus library, in her own little corner, legs tucked under her body as she reads quietly. 

In truth, he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, what he’s about to do, but he knows he has to do it. 

“MJ,” He blurts out, perhaps a little too eager. 

She looks up, startled, but then her expression falls into one of familiarity. She throws him a loose grin, accompanied by a strong peace sign. “Sup?”

“I uh—” He pauses, running his hands over his dark gray jeans in an effort to wipe the sweat off. “I had a question.”

Her eyes flit left and right before she sits forward, intrigued. “Okay?” There’s a hint of nervousness to her tone, one that he doesn’t recognize. 

“Well, I guess, um…” Peter can look anywhere but directly at her. The air feels thick, his breathing doesn’t come easily. 

God, he doesn’t know how to get this out. 

“First, uh—” His voice shakes, and he disguises it under a cough. “I should start by… by saying that—” Oh, God here we go. “I really like you.”

MJ stiffens, again glancing around. “I… like you, too.”

He huffs out a short puff of air, growing frustrated at himself for not being able to get his feelings across well, even as a grown-ass college student. “No, no. I mean…” He finally looks up at her, eyes earnest and warm, yet anxious. “Like, in a romantic… way.”

She definitely seems taken aback by that, but there’s the minuscule, upward twitch of her lip that gives Peter a glimmer of hope to cling onto. 

“Oh?” She asks. 

“Y—Yeah,” He breathes.

MJ looks down at her book, biting at her lip to keep herself calm. She raises the book up a little, as if to hide the way the corners of her mouth are quirking upward. “I… really like you, too,” she mumbles, her bangs falling over her face. “In a romantic… way.”

“Oh,” Peter mimics her earlier, eloquent reaction. “That’s… that’s cool,” he laughs airily. “Did you… maybe wanna… go out with me?”

Her lips stretch into a toothy smile. “Uh… Yeah. That—That sounds cool.”

“Cool!” Peter breathes. They share a quiet, giddy chuckle. “We could… we could go tomorrow night?”

“Or we could go tonight.”

“Tonight sounds good.”

“I’ll see you tonight then. Your place.” She gives him that adorable, shy grin he loves so much. 

“Cool.”

Peter has to fight the skip in his step as he makes his way back home, but once he’s out the door, he allows himself one victorious, cheesy fist-pump in the air. 

--

He’s not sure if he’s more proud of or angry at himself in this moment. 

Proud, in that he followed his gut, asked out the girl of his fucking dreams; angry, in the sense that it took him so damn long to do it, that they could have been doing this the whole time. But when he looks up at MJ as she’s eating at her mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, he doesn’t feel anything but pure, warm, giddy happiness. 

Apparently, they’d both realized that these mutual crushes weren’t new, beginning as early as high school in fact, embarrassing as it was for them both to openly admit. They share a laugh at their oversight, teasing each other relentless throughout the evening for the both of them being so dumb. 

“I liked you first,” Peter had insisted. 

“Of course you did,” she’d teased. 

And although he’s still feeling that fluttering nervousness in his stomach and his hands are still sweating, there’s an ease to being with her. He can’t help but think how lucky he is, getting to be in this park with her, just walking and talking. 

He glances around, hands shoved into his pockets as they walk side-by-side, and he wonders how all of this could change; how the twinkling lights in the trees or the simple pattern of MJ’s pretty skirt might look in full, vibrant color. 

He shivers in nervous, giddy anticipation, knowing that all of this could change tonight, that he could finally see the world beyond the shades of black, white, and gray he’d always known. But if there’s one thing he’s sure—absolutely sure about—it’s that no matter what the world looks like, in color or not… nothing can change the way he feels about MJ. 

She finishes her cone, letting her hand fall to meet his. There’s the faintest brush of her pinky against his, and it’s all the cue he needs as he intertwines their fingers. His thumb brushes over the soft skin of her hand, and he feels his heart soar when she returns the touch. 

They find a quiet bench, not far from the path, sitting together, still holding hands as they continue to talk, both of them lost in this glowing warmth. 

And finally, when she looks at him, her eyes flitting between his eyes and his mouth, Peter truly feels as though he’s lost his breath. 

She smiles, eyes drifting shut as she leans into him. He follows readily, though still stunned.

And out of all the kisses in his life, this one blows them all out of the water. Truly. It’s everything he’d imagined it would be. It’s that kiss all those years ago he’d told her about on the floor of his living room. It’s an opus that deserves a standing ovation. It’s the book with the ending that makes him feel incandescently happy. And they fit so well together, her soft lips moulding against his in the most perfect way. 

She wraps an arm around his shoulder as his hands comes up to tenderly cradle the back of her head, pulling her into him. Her free hand rests against his forearm, squeezing gently. 

When he pulls away, his eyes still closed, he can feel her smile against him as her lips chase his, kissing him again, both of them lost in the feeling of one another, finally. 

He could almost live in that moment forever, just kissing her on that park bench. 

But at some point, they both need to breathe. 

He pulls away again, still smiling. 

And when he opens his eyes, there’s a feeling as if he’s been punched in the gut. It’s ice cold, his heart cracking, the seams now worn and tearing.

The world hasn’t changed. 

The trees are still dark gray. 

The lights are still a blinding white. 

And MJ’s skirt is still a black and white pattern. 

When he finally comes to look at her face, he shatters seeing the realization dawn on her features, even as she tries to hide it. 

She smiles still, and as anemic as it is, he returns the expression as she makes up some excuse about needing to turn in early. He nods, understanding completely, even though his chest feels as if it’s been filled with lead. There’s a certain, familiar stinging behind his eyes as he walks her home and a tense quiet falls over them. 

And he goes home alone. 

Peter can’t sleep, but it’s different than the other night. He tosses and turns, wrought with sadness and shock. Haunted by her touch, her lips against his, the feel of her soft curls under his fingertips. Then, dark trees, blinding white lights.

And he drowns in his confusion. It doesn’t make sense. Everything’s there. Every possible requirement that cruel fate has. They meet it. He doesn’t understand. Why had the universe made everything seem so right, so real, and then give them nothing? What more could it possibly want?

What MJ and Peter have—or had… it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. It’s a closeness he’s never known. The history they have together is unmatched. MJ’s been there for all of his highs and all of his lows. All his years of relationships with other people, the dates, the nights spent together… they pale in comparison to this one evening with Michelle. Every moment with every other significant other. It’s not the same, and he can’t for the life of him fathom why they’re both still colorblind.

But then, Peter remembers what MJ had said all those years ago, warning him about this; how letting fate have too much control can only make things worse in the long run. 

She had been right. 

She had been right. 

Suddenly, he sits up in bed, rushing to grab his suit. 

He can’t let this go on like this, cliche as it sounds. He has to see her. He has to talk to her. She has to know how he feels. 

In less than ten minutes, at nearly two in the morning he’s at her apartment, outside her fire escape, tapping frantically at her window. 

And MJ answers, looking about in the same state he is. No ounce of sleep yet. 

“Peter, what—”

“Can I talk to you?” He spits out before she can finish. “Please.”

For a moment, she only looks at him, her eyes distant and sorrowful. “Uh… Yeah,” She steps aside, eyeing him warily. “Sure. Come on in.”

Peter rushes in, pacing her floor as he had his own just yesterday. “Listen, I know you’re upset that… that we’re not… soulmates—”

“—I’m not upset,” she instantly denies, though her tone says otherwise. She stands in front of him, arms folded across her chest. 

“You are,” He responds, then his voice lowers, and he speaks again before she can argue. “I am, too. Well, I was. But…” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. He shakes his head, not knowing how to even begin to explain his feelings. It’s funny, minutes before, in his apartment, the thoughts were running rampant, but now, here, standing in front of her, he can’t seem to find any words. 

“But?” Her voice is almost a whisper, and she dares a short glance from under her lashes. 

“I don’t care,” He decides, tone held strong with finality. “I don’t. Care. I wanna be with you, MJ. I don’t care what fate has to say or—”

“Peter,” She stops him, wrapping her arms around herself. “We’re not… we’re not soulmates. It’s not… It’s not going to work. We’ve seen what happens when you actually try to go against fate. It never works out. I know I said it was bullshit before… but—”

“But this feels right, MJ!” He pleads. “I said, I don’t care what fate says. I love you!”

“You said it yourself, Pete,” MJ murmurs sadly, shaking her head as she looks at him. “Your soulmate is supposed to be perfect for you.”

Peter stares at her a moment, a beat passing. 

“Who says I want perfect?”

MJ immediately looks away, trying to subtly wipe at the bottom of her eyes. 

“And… I don’t care if I never see what the world really looks like. I don’t.” Peter moves forward, taking one of her hands in both of his, his gloved thumbs running soothing lines over her skin. “The only thing I care about is being with you. You, MJ. As long as I get to be with you, all that other stuff doesn’t matter. I’d happily see the world in black and white for the rest of my life if it meant I got to spend it with you—”

He’s cut off by MJ crashing her lips to his in a searing, heartfelt kiss. 

When she pulls back, he sees the welling tears in her eyes matching his. A stray drop falls on her cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away. “I love you,” he repeats tenderly so that only she can hear. 

She looks down, smiling timidly, letting out a tearful laugh when he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I love you,” she says back eagerly, easily, just as soft. 

He takes a breath, pulling back again to capture her lips into another sweet kiss. And he feels all those same feelings from earlier, each and every time. No matter what the universe says, he chooses her, she chooses him. Nothing else matters. 

And when they part, hands and hearts intertwined, they slowly open their eyes again. 

[graaythekwami]

A Good Actor - ML one-shot

Summary: To avoid auditioning for the role of Ladybug, Marinette finds herself trying out as Chat Noir for a school performance. It’s just her luck that she’s trying out with Adrien, who she can barely get a sentence out around. So when she’s told to improv the heroes’ patrol night she does the easiest thing– and repeats exactly what Chat Noir said to her on patrol last night.

Also read on ao3!

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“Y-you want me to what?” Marinette cried, taking a step back, staring at Alya with wide eyes.

“I want you to play Ladybug for the school performance!” Alya said, holding up the poster excitedly. “Every class needs to send in a video of two students to audition for the role of Ladybug and Chat Noir, and just about everyone in our class agreed that you’d be the perfect Ladybug!”

“Hahaha, me? Perfect Ladybug? What are you talking about we’re nothing alike,” Marinette said hastily. “I’d just trip across the stage and get tangled up in the yoyo string if I tried it, you know me!”

“For once I actually agree with Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe piped up from the other side of the room, arms crossed. “I would be a much better Ladybug than she would ever be!”

Alya ignored her, pressing closer with a smile. “Yes you, girl! Who better than our ‘everyday Ladybug’? I saw you dressed up for Clara Nightingale’s video, and you pulled off Ladybug’s costume so well. And sure you can be a bit clumsy sometimes, but that doesn’t mean a thing. Remember when we were shooting that school film and you were going to step in as an actor? You were doing awesomely!”

“B-but wouldn’t you be a better Ladybug?” Marinette stuttered out. “I mean you run her blog, you probably know the most about her, you’d pull off Ladybug perfectly! You’re her number one fan!”

Alya grinned. “Also, did I mention that we’re going to have Adrien play Chat Noir? That’d mean you’d get to play a role where Adrien’s flirting with you, and even if you guys aren’t chosen as the final actors you’d get to spend some time with him...”

Marinette was mad that this made her pause for a moment– because that was not how she was supposed to act as a superhero. Rule number one was to protect her identity, and everything else comes after that. She already had put herself in a role where she had almost been fully dressed up as Ladybug before, and she was not going to do that again. Even if it meant working with Adrien.

“Ha! I knew that would change your mind!” Alya said triumphantly, taking her pause as a yes. She grabbed Marinette by her arm, dragging her away. “We got our Ladybug!”

“Wait Alya, I didn’t say–!” Marinette began, only to be cut off by Adrien on the other side of the room.

“You want me to play Chat Noir?” He asked, looking quite startled at the idea.

“Well, yeah dude,” Nino said with a grin. “I mean, you were his voice actor for the movie, right? You look kinda like him too... ‘cause you know, blond hair and all? Even the Clara Nightingale wanted you to play Chat Noir in her music video. Who would be better in the class?”

“I mean, I don’t know, you know I probably wouldn’t have time to do it, with my schedule and all–”

“But you have time today, you’re here after all, and just about everything else will be done during school hours,” Nino countered, still grinning. “So we could film the audition today and submit to the school, and if you guys make it then the rest would be during school.”

“I–”

“Marinette is going to be playing Ladybug for our class audition,” Alya said happily as they pulled up near the boys. She pushed Marinette forward, who was stiff. “You guys work so well together, won’t it be perfect?”

“Alya I–”

Adrien gave a small smile. “I think Marinette is an awesome choice, but I don’t think I will be able to do this. I don’t want to disappoint, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to step down.”

“Come on dude!” Nino begged. “There’s no one else in the class that can pull off a better Chat Noir.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “I’ve seen the call for auditions– they specifically stated that looks don’t matter at all for this, it all comes down to acting skills. You don’t need me and Adrien just because we happen to have the same hair color as the heroes. There’s other people that can do it better, so choose them.”

“Adrien has the most experience with acting though!” Rose piped up.

“And I’ve run the statistics, and out of all the females in the class Marinette would be the most suitable candidate for acting,” Max remarked.

“We–” Adrien began, but he was cut off by their class.

“You would be awesome, man,” Kim said, leaning over his desk. “Both of you, just give it a try?”

“Neither of you would mess up on stage,” Mylene said softly.

Ivan nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to at least try, right?”

“You owe me girl,” Alya reminded Marinette. “And I’m cashing in right now– you need to try out for this audition. This would be an awesome chance for you!”

Marinette swallowed, barely noticing as she bumped up against Adrien, slightly startled at how adamant her class was on it being them to audition. Of course they didn’t realize what pressure they were putting on her, if anything they were just trying to work up her courage, not realizing just what could be at stake if she were to do this. She nervously looked up at Adrien, who surprisingly looked just as worried about this as she did. He glanced at her, offering a nervous smile, but also seemed to be quietly asking for her help as well. Of course he had enough pressure on him from his family, and pushing his schedule probably never went over well for him.

“Guys,” Marinette said, trying to make herself heard over the clamor of encouragement. “I don’t want to play Ladybug in this. I’m flattered that you think I’d do such a good job... but I don’t feel the same.”

“It’s just an audition,” Alix said. “Come on, would it hurt to give it a shot?”

Marinette swallowed, they weren’t going to let this go, were they? She closed her eyes, mind racing. She could feel Tikki pressing up against her through her purse. Once again her class began reassuring her that she would do an awesome job, to at least give it a shot. That there would be so many auditions that it would be unlikely that she would be chosen anyways. Ideas raced through her mind, trying to find some solution.

“Fine!” she suddenly cried, and she felt Tikki stiffen up. “I’ll do the audition!”

“Woo!” Alya cheered, and the class was grinning. “We got our Ladybug.”

“Wait–” Marinette said hastily, holding out her hands. “I’ll do the audition– but I don’t want the role of Ladybug. I want to try out for Chat Noir.”

Everyone stared at her.

She scratched the back of her head. “He’s my favorite of the two heroes, and I think I’d be more comfortable doing all this if I was trying out for his role, you know? Besides, the flier said this was going to be more focused on talent than anything else so why not...?”

“Besides!” Adrien suddenly interrupted, throwing himself into the conversation. “I’d love to try out as Ladybug! I think I would have a lot more fun with that role anyways, she’s awesome!”

“Well, um, I don’t see anything wrong with that, you are like her biggest fan,” Nino said with a shrug. “You’re both awesome actors, I think you could pull off any role.” 

“But it would be so perfect the other way,” Alya muttered. “I still have pictures from Clara’s music video auditions, you were both so cute...” Nino nudged her, and she smiled. “But whatever you guys are most comfortable with doing– I know you two are going to be awesome!”

She winked at Marinette, who flushed slightly. She didn’t know why Adrien now seemed willing with the role swap, since he had acted like his tight schedule was the issue before– yet now he seemed much more relaxed. Maybe he was tired of always being dragged into the role as Chat Noir? It seemed to happen so often with him, so it was no wonder he wanted to play Ladybug...

That’s when it hit Marinette. Adrien was going to be auditioning for the role of Ladybug. He was going to be acting as her. And if she was going to be playing the role as flirty Chat Noir that would mean that she would be flirting with Adrien.

Suddenly the room seemed a lot warmer, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks. No one said a word as she and Adrien were dragged towards the front of the classroom. Nino had his phone out to record the audition, while Alya was looking over the requirements one last time.

The next thing Marinette knew she was positioned across from Adrien, a plastic Chat Noir mask being pressed onto her face. It was far from comfortable– the mask the Miraculouses provided always seamlessly sat on her face, not obstructing her vision nor poking into her skin. She had to adjust this fake one several times, the elastic that held it into place digging into the sides of her head.

Adrien had a Ladybug mask on, fidgeting with it himself, shooting her a hesitant smile. She smiled back, knees feeling weak seeing him with her signature colors on him. In fact if you messed up his hair a bit he could probably pull off a Mister Bug costume– but she was sure the last thing he wanted was to be compared to Chat Noir if that had been what made him uncomfortable about all this in the first place.

“Okay!” Alya said, scrolling through the school website on her phone, holding the audition flier in the other hand. “No costumes are needed for the auditions, I just want to help you guys to be in character. Minimal props are allowed, and we just need to send in a two-to-three minute video of the two actors doing an improv performance of any scenario involving the heroes. ‘We’re looking for actors that can naturally fall into the role’, blah blah blah, ‘no script of any kind is needed to be followed for the audition’, blah blah, ‘only one video submission per class’... and I think that’s everything!”

“Here,” Juleka said, holding out two objects for them to take. “For props.”

Marinette was given a long cardboard tube, and considering the fact that Adrien was handed a yoyo it was probably supposed to represent Chat Noir’s baton. She had to stiffen a laugh, the image of a cardboard-covered Chat Noir leaping into battle popping into her mind. She didn’t know why, but it definitely seemed like something he would do.

“Okay!” Alya said excitedly, grinning at them. “Just relax, we can do as many takes as you guys want. Sure it’s supposed to be improv, but the beauty of video auditions is that we can just send in our best one.”

Adrien laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So then, what scenario do you want us in then?”

He had looped the yoyo around a finger, but it was quite clear he didn’t have much experience with the toy. The yoyo only came back to his hand once before losing momentum, and he had to wind it up. Marinette tried to avoid yoyos for the most part, mostly because she had become very skilled with them both in and out of the mask. Also she found regular yoyos to be very boring– no endless string and it doesn’t function as a grappling hook? Where’s the fun in that?

“An akuma battle!” Kim said eagerly. 

“And what are we supposed to do? Have them jump around the room fighting a non-existent monster?” Alix rolled her eyes.

“They need a speaking role– something to show how amazing they are!” Rose said happily, beaming at them.

Alya grinned. “Okay, I got it– you two are meeting up for a nightly patrol, okay? Marinette, go off screen for a moment, because Ladybug would definitely be the more punctual of the two... perfect!”

“Actually–” Adrien began, before stopping.

Chat Noir was actually the more punctual one of the two– he tended to arrive early on patrol nights and on time for anything else, while she ran late as both Marinette and Ladybug. The only time Chat was late was when he was busy with his civilian life– meaning he was still being punctual in that part of his life.

“How should we start?” Marinette asked uncertainly, stepping back as Nino held up his phone to record.

“Your choice girl, just be Chat Noir,” Alya sat up. “Okay, everyone quiet... and go!”

With that Nino started recording. Adrien stiffened up for a moment, before leaning up against the desk, looking over to Marinette. Improv or not she had no idea what she should be doing, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Patrol... she went on patrol every week, this shouldn’t be a problem. She just needed to do as Chat Noir did, and no one knew him better than she did.

She had literally been on patrol with him last night, this would be easy.

So Marinette sat up, putting on her best Chat-grin, and sauntered onto the camera. She twirled her ‘baton’ the best she could with her hands, before slamming the tip onto the ground and leaning against it like she had seen Chat Noir do so many times before. Her heart was hammering, considering the fact that she was smirking slyly at Adrien, but she reminded herself to just play her part.

“Hey there Bugaboo,” she said as smoothly as she could. “Tonight is purr-fect, isn’t it? Absolutely mew-velous, just like you.”

She couldn’t help but let her grin widen– saying the exact same thing Chat Noir had said to her last night. Adrien stared at her for a moment, blinking once, and she decided that he was adorable in his little Ladybug mask. He looked surprised, probably because she wasn’t a stuttering mess, before composing himself. He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“Really, Kitty?” He asked in what seemed to be an attempt to mimic Ladybug’s voice. “Can’t we have just one patrol without your puns?”

Huh. That had been basically the exact same thing she had said in reply to Chat Noir last night. That made her feel warm, the fact that Adrien understood Ladybug that well. Nino had said he was a fan, but still.

“No puns, My Lady?” Marinette replied, once again echoing her and Chat’s conversation from last night, and she put her hand on her chest in mock-offense. “But that would be so claw-ful. A cat-astrophe! Purr-haps you need to reconsider just how pun-derful my puns are.”

Adrien struggled against a laugh as she rattled off her cat puns, and she hated the fact that they came to mind so easily. Thank goodness Chat Noir wasn’t here to watch her now, because she knew that he would never let her live this down. Mimicking him and making puns? He would probably think he was in heaven.

“I will not hesitate to push you off of this building,” Adrien replied with a huff, crossing his arms just a bit more dramatically than she had when she had said this last night. “Now, I’m going to patrol the east side, you take the west and–”

“Meow-ch!” She cut him off without a second thought, because that was what he had done to her last night when she had tried to divide up patrols. “Separate patrols again? I would think that you’re trying to avoid me, but considering how many messages you left me last night–”

“I was worried about you, you stupid cat!” This time Adrien cut her off. “You took several hits for me with that akuma yesterday– then left as soon as the battle was over! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“My Lady was worried about me!” Marinette swooned, clasping her hands together– but had to swiftly grab the cardboard tube before it fell over, because unlike Chat’s actual baton it couldn’t shrink down. “Your Miraculous Ladybugs did heal me up, but I have to say I am still a little sore...” she held out one hand, smiling slightly. “Kiss it better, Bugaboo?”

On the outside Marinette was flawlessly playing her role, but on the inside she was panicking. She was calling Adrien Bugaboo! She had just asked him to kiss her hand! Audition or not she was still freaking out... but that wasn’t the only reason. She had just used what had happened on patrol last night as a starting point for this improv shoot, yet somehow the conversation was going exactly how it had gone last night– and she had no idea what that meant.

Adrien was watching her with wide eyes for a moment– was there something on her face? Did he think she was weird? Was she making him uncomfortable? She didn’t have time to question him further as he slipped back into character, rolling his eyes and pushing her hand away. He attempted to spin her yoyo about a few times, though it didn’t go too well so he stopped.

“Such a needy kitty,” he said as he turned away. “We can patrol together if you want to so badly– but if you call me Bugaboo again I’m throwing you into the Seine.”

Alarms were going off in Marinette’s mind at this point– because that had been exactly what she had said, nearly word for word. She had given Chat Noir that same threat last night, she had turned away in the same way, she had been spinning her yoyo about– had Adrien been spying on them or something?!

“Must you wound me, My Lady? Purr-haps you should reconsider.”

Adrien let out a dramatic sigh. “You already used that one tonight, Kitty.”

Marinette had stiffened up, and was now staring at Adrien in shock. There was only so much that could be a coincidence, and this had now reached far past that. Her mouth was dry, knowing that what she said next would either confirm or deny the racing possibilities in her mind, because she could only think of one reason on why Adrien could parrot her conversation from last night so perfectly.

“W-well,” Marinette stuttered. “I think you should appreciate my puns more, even P-plagg likes them.”

This time Adrien stiffened up, having gone still. He didn’t say anything for a moment, before slowly turning around, watching her closely. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then paused. She swallowed, and then he spoke again, each word said with some hesitation.

“Well... Tikki says Plagg has no taste,” he replied slowly, and Marinette’s world came crashing down as he said her kwami’s name. She took a step back, face pale as she stared at Adrien. The audition was long forgotten, Alya’s wave at her for her to continue having gone unnoticed. She just stared at her crush and partner, mouth part way open.

“Ohmygosh!” She blurted out, hands going to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, n-no, this isn’t– you can’t– you’re not–”

Adrien was staring at her with awe, like he had never seen her before. She paid no heed to the confused looks her classmates were giving her, taking a step back from Adrien. He reached out, hesitating, looking stunned– but he had a huge smile on his face.

“Can I just say you make a fabulous Chat Noir?” Adrien said with a grin.

“Shut up!” She cried, voice muffled by her hands.

“You just pull him off so purr-fectly,” he continued. “Anyone else would have done a claw-ful job, but you just captured his essence–”

“I will throw you into the Seine!” She shouted, being fueled by nothing but panic.

“Cut!” Nino called, pausing the recording. “What happened, dudes? The first half was going perfectly.”

“Purr-fectly,” Adrien whispered under his breath, a gleeful smile on his face, and Marinette reflexively chucked the cardboard tube at him.

Adrien stepsided with ease, winking at her, and she felt herself turning red.

“Hey Nino, could you send me a copy of that take?”

“No!” Marinette yelped. “Nino, no! I will sic Alya on you! Don't you dare!”

“I'll do whatever you want, just save it!” Adrien called, arm wrapping around her waist as she sprang towards Nino’s phone, holding her back. “I need it for the memory!”

“I will sic Alya on you too, Agreste!” 

“...What is happening?” Alya whispered, and the rest of the class seemed to echo that sentiment.

Adrien seemed to gain the upper hand as he scooped Marinette up in his arms, causing her to let out a startled squeal, turning bright red. She most definitely wasn't protesting as she looked up at Adrien, but the startling thing was that Adrien was doing it in the first place. He seemed surprised by her reaction, but was grinning.

“Wipe that smirk off your stupidly handsome face!”

“Handsome face, you say?”

“I will tie you to the Eiffel Tower and leave you there all night!”

“As long as you're there~”

“Shut up, Agreste!” Marinette snarled, punching his shoulder, which only made him laugh.

He leaned in close, still cradling Marinette in his arms. He was smirking, a gleam in his eyes as he leaned in close.

“Make me, little lady.”

Marinette, who somehow had gone even redder, glared up at him. She reached up, grabbed the sides of his face, and pulled his lips down into hers. The whole class exploded as she did so, Adrien stiffening up as they kissed.

It only lasted for a moment, and then instantly Adrien melted into the kiss. He pulled her in closer, his grip on her shifting. One hand found the center of her back, the other supporting the rest of her as they kissed. Part of Marinette was panicking– because Adrien– but the rest of her now recognized him as her partner.

Chaton. Dork. Trustworthy. Safety. There was no reason to panic, but plenty to keep kissing.

They were breathing heavily as they pulled apart, resting their foreheads together. His smirks from before were gone, his gaze nothing but soft, joy pouring from him.

“Oh kwamis,” he whispered, his warm breath on her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, and she felt a purr building up in his throat.

“Say it again?”

She gave a small smirk. “How about you kiss me again?”

He grabbed her chin, and did just that.

[natewallace]

COMMISSION:  The Sound of a Voice

After confronting Kurogiri/Oboro at Tartarus, Hizashi has a falling-out with his friends and partner.

for: @scattered-imagination ♡ by Sam WC: 3802

                                 Thank you so much! this was lovely to write.                                                                      commission info + AO3 + ko-fi

Shouta Aizawa likes the quiet of the faculty room at the end of the day. In the fall, the midday sun pours gentle light in through the window and casts a warm glow over Shouta’s spot by the window, allowing him time to think and grade papers before returning home. 

It’s not often that someone him this late in the day. But when Yagi Toshinori’s hesitant face peers through the door of the lounge, Aizawa greets him with a low hum.

“I figured I’d see you here,” Toshinori says with a small smile. Aizawa nods, looking up from the stack of papers to be graded at the table. 

“You don’t usually stay this late,” Aizawa murmurs.

Toshinori rubs the back of his head. “I know. I, erm...I wanted to talk about — about Yamada.”

Aizawa sighs. The very way in which Aizawa’s posture shifts at the mention of the other man is enough to make Toshinori flinch. 

“He’s burning himself out, Aizawa.”

Aizawa blinks and remains silent.

Toshinori takes a careful step inside the. With a glance at the floor, he moves to stand across the table where Aizawa sits. 

“And you can’t...can’t reach him at all, can you?” 

Aizawa glares at him under hooded eyelids. Behind the thick strands of his hair, the former number-one hero almost feels intimidated.

“I’m not delving into the details of my relationship with — with him, right now. We don’t speak as much as we used to. That’s it. I can’t reach him any better than you, Nemuri, or Tensei can. Admittedly, I...I haven’t noticed the change in his behavior until you and Nemuri brought it up to me today. This...this thing he does isn’t entirely abnormal. He goes on these crazy energy-splurges and then sleeps for a week.”

Aizawa sigh as a pang of guilt creeps through his stomach. Estranged or not (and God, Aizawa hates that word), he should have seen this for what it is. This behavior isn’t Hizashi — this is far, far worse. And he’d been ignoring it; he’d been ignoring a lot of things, save for work, since their visit to Tartarus.

“But this isn’t normal, no.”

Toshinori sighs. Aizawa watches him with measured eyes.

“What do you propose we do?” 

Aizawa’s voice is strained around the question, and Toshinori notices a desperation in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. When he speaks again, it’s hardly above a whisper.

“I...I don’t want to see him get hurt.” Toshinori manages a small smile. 

“None of us do, Aizawa. Nemuri proposed we go to his apartment tomorrow night. It would technically be breaking and entering, but erm — we figured you’d have a spare key. Just know I’m not supporting this, and that it’s highly illegal and — “

Aizawa gives him a flat stare. Toshinori shrugs sheepishly.

“I’ll be there, then,” he says quickly. “With the key.”

That seems to please Toshinori well enough.

_____________________________

The racing in Hizashis head shows no sign of slowing. Even as he pushes open the door to his apartment, no one train of thought seems to settle enough for him to follow it long enough to make any sense. His eyelids dance like hummingbird wings and unfocused eyes dart every which way as his hand trembles to unlock the door. 

He needs to sleep. Or to sit down. But something deep in his chest looms within him like a vast, inky trench that he dare not let anywhere near the surface of his own psyche. He scratches his head idly, almost throwing off his directional speaker before he notices the four people sitting on his couch with a sudden jolt.

Across from him, Shouta is slumped across the couch cushion, a sigh that makes his chest ache. He sputters, feeling like he needs to say something. They had hardly spoken in weeks. Since speaking with Oboro — Kurogiri — at Tartarus, meeting Shouta’s eyes has been a near-impossible feat. That looming, dark expanse of water threatens its way up Hizashi’s throat, and he quickly shoves it down with a weak smile.

Nemuri is leaning on the back of a chair beside the couch, and to Shota’s right, Toshinori stands awkwardly near the corner, his hand on the back of his head. Tensei has his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly together until he looks up when Hizashi enters the room.

“Oh hey!” he chirps. He curses inwardly as his voice cracks. He’s mentally exhausted, and he’s suddenly vividly aware that it’s painted all over his face.

Nemuri offers a small smile. Toshinori just sighs, looking around with a weak wave. Shouta and Tensei look away.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Hizashi continues. He takes off his speaker, placing it on the table in the middle of the four. “Let me put some dinner on, yeah? You four have gotta be starving.”

“That won’t be necessary, Yamada,” Toshinori says with a raise of his hand. Nemuri nods in agreement. 

“Hizashi…” she begins carefully. “We actually wanted to talk to you. About that. We don’t want you to take care of us. We want you to talk to us.”

He swallows thickly. He feels their eyes burning into the front of his skull, no matter how much he tries to look away.

“Oh. Well, we could’ve all gotten a drink or something. Not that I don’t love when you guys come over and all, I’d just like to clean up a little first!”

“You wouldn’t have agreed to come,” Shouta says lowly. He takes an uneven breath, forcing himself to meet his eyes. “Because this isn’t a friendly call. Hizashi…”

He sighs softly. Shouta feels suffocated — why were Tensei, Toshinori, and Kayama here when they weren’t the ones in Tartarus? Nemuri had been Oboro’s friend, but they didn’t have to watch as Oboro all but clawed his way out of Kurogiri —

He shoves the thought aside.

“You haven’t been yourself,” Tensei points out when Shouta is clearly lost for words. “Not since you and Shouta visited Tartarus.”

Hizashi freezes where he stands. “Look, man, I don’t wanna talk about what happened at Tartarus, okay? That was me and Shouta’s business.”

“He was our friend, too,” Nemuri says softly. The hurt in her eyes is enough to make Hizashi want to cry.

“And I may not have known him,” Toshinori says quietly, “But I consider Oboro Shirakumo’s...situation...to be a failure of hero society itself. And as a representative of what is meant to be the best of the best of Pro Heroes here in Japan, I consider this to be a personal matter in regards to your well-being. I also consider you to be my friend, Yamada, and I worry about your well-being.”

Hizashi presses his lips together as Toshinori looks at the ground with a hard expression.

“Guys, I appreciate this,” Hizashi says softly. “But I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re not,” Shouta snaps. He clamps his mouth shut when Tensei gives him a warning glance. His tone had been far too harsh.

“You’re not fine,” he says again, slowly this time. He stands up, if a bit awkwardly, to approach Hizashi. His hands twitch to take the other man’s hands in his own — to hug him and cling to him as he had before. But he can’t. Their relationship had deteriorated in the past few weeks, and they both know it.

“We want you to talk to us, Hizashi.”

Hizashi raises his hands defensively. “I told you! I’m fine.”

“Hizashi...you’ve lost weight,” Toshinori says gently. “Your smile used to be the brightest smile across U.A. and...I can tell when someone is forcing a smile, Hizashi. I’ve had to do it many times myself. You aren’t smiling — you’re acting.”

Hizashi looks at them in disbelief. He shakes his head, his eyes wide and unfocused as he harshly grabs a chair and drags it into the makeshift circle. He sits down, worrying his chapped bottom lip between his teeth before staring at the four of them in silence.

“I’m tired,” he admits. “I’m really, really tired. I want to help you all. I love it — it makes me happy. But sometimes, I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. You know?”

The four of them look at one another in silent confusion, unsure of what to say. He stares at Shouta, first.

“You’ve been complaining that I’m too loud,” he whispers. “You almost never do that. You forgot about all of our dates last week.”

Shouta’s lower lip trembles, but before he can respond, Hizashi turns to Tensei.

“Tensei — you locked me out of your classroom when I was shaking. You couldn’t handle it. I — I don’t blame you. I haven’t had a panic attack since I was a kid, and — and I know I — I hurt someone the last time that happened. My voice got out of control. But I needed you, Tensei.”

His gaze darts to Nemuri when Tensei, too, is at a loss for words.

“You’re drinking more,” he points out. Her face flushes.

“Hizashi, I — “

“No,” he snaps. He bares his teeth. “Nemuri — let me continue. Please.”

Never one for being told what to do, she bows her head in meek obedience.

“You were drinking,” he says again. “And wouldn’t let me stop you. You blacked out. Thank God you were at home, or else you would’ve been destroyed by the press and God knows what else.”

Speechless, she blinks and says nothing more.

“So,” he continues, addressing the group. “You see? This is why I’m tired. I love you — all of you. But...I can’t do this anymore. We lost Oboro as children, and it was devastating. I’m done lying to myself — I changed, that day. We all did. Seeing him like that again at Tartarus made me feel like a scared, lost little kid who suddenly got smacked in the face with the reality of Pro Hero work at the age of fifteen all over again. And now, I’m stuck wishing he had just stayed dead. You know how screwed up it is to wish your old best friend was dead instead of — instead of a monster?”

His voice cracks in the silent room.

“I can’t pretend to know what you have seen,” Toshinori says softly. “But I know that it’s a burden that not even a Pro Hero should have to bear.”

Hizashi manages a weak, tearful smile. “Then at least you, Toshinori, understand why trying to be there for all of you all of the time has not been working for me. I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

He sighs. He hadn’t expected to feel better after letting everything air out — but Hizashi feels lighter, somehow, even amidst the struck and devastated faces of his friends. He winces, unable to meet their eyes. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them — but he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I think Hizashi is right,” Tensei murmurs. Shouta looks up and meets Hizashi’s eyes, but the two say nothing at all. Nemuri nods.

“We’re sorry, Hizashi,” Nemuri says quietly. “We...we’ve hurt you. I think...I think it would be good if we spent some time alone. None of us have been processing this well. I’m glad you told us.”

Hizashi bites his lip. He wants to cry; he doesn’t want them to go, but he knows there is nothing else to be done. Nothing else to be said.

“I’d like to stay,” Toshinori murmurs. “If that’s okay with you, Yamada.” He looks around the room, stricken by the others’ response. Maybe this was for the best, but is leaving Yamada really what’s best right now? He doesn’t know.

Hizashi offers him a weak smile and, much to Toshinori’s relief, nods in weary agreement. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. The rest murmur pained goodbyes, and Hizashi wishes them well. Shouta opens his mouth as though to say something more, but Hizashi only shakes his head.

“Shouta. Not now.”

Shouta looks down and nods. Shuffling out the door, he follows his friends out of the apartment door, leaving Hizashi alone with Toshinori. The silence that follows feels stifling, and when Hizashi hides his face in his hands in a barely-concealed sob. Maybe it’s the way Toshinori approaches him and places a hand comfortingly on his shoulder; maybe it’s the way he says nothing at all, merely lets Hizashi cry and cry until there’s nothing left in him to weep for any longer.

His silence and his simple, gentle touch are enough for Hizashi to let go.

“You can’t be there for everybody all the time,” Toshinori murmurs. “You have to separate that roll from yourself. Without learning to do that from a young age, I would have destroyed myself much more quickly than I already did. You can’t do that to yourself, too. You have a bright and promising career that is still years ahead of you, Yamada. Embrace it for you, and don’t let yourself be dragged down by impossible expectations.”

Hizashi nods in agreement. Toshinori smiles and offers him a hug, which Hizashi gladly accepts.

Over the weekend, Toshinori comes to visit Hizashi frequently, offering to cook for him and bring him takeout on Sunday night. They laugh and talk about television shows and work. Toshinori even helps Hizashi clean the apartment, which Hizashi had, admittedly, let get to an unacceptable level of disaster over the past couple of weeks. All at once, Hizashi vividly understands just why Yagi Toshinori is Japan’s Number One Hero. He’s kind — terribly, terribly kind and patient beyond even Hizashi’s own understanding.

Maybe, having someone simply let Hizashi let go had been exactly what he had needed.

_____________________________

On Monday night at the bar, Nemuri, Shouta, and Tensei drink in uneasy silence. Shouta nearly didn’t come. His silence weighs on them all like a heavy blanket.

“We need to do better,” Nemuri murmurs. “All of us.”

The other two nod in agreement.

“We’re all struggling. But it was no excuse to treat Hizashi the way we did,” Tensei points out. “We’re all at fault. We need to get over our own crap and get through this together. We did before — we can do it again.”

As doubtful as Shouta is, he agrees for the sake of agreeing.

The following week, Hizashi’s behavior is strange, to say the least. He says nothing of their conversation at his apartment and seems to almost back to his usual self — but without Hizashi’s typical and endearing over-the-top cheer. He calls Shouta ‘Aizawa’ even when they’re alone, which isn’t often. And while he gives pointers on grading and offers to help open a door when Tensei is carrying an armful of books and other supplies, it’s as far as the extent of his help goes. Hizashi keeps a measured, practical distance, and it’s enough to leave Shouta dumbstruck and quietly scrambling for any sign of his old partner and friend.

“Distance,” Toshinori had told Hizashi gently before leaving on Sunday night, “might be the kindest way of taking care of yourself. I am not suggesting you abandon your friends. But you have to place yourself at a distance away from them that they relearn to take care of themselves while you heal, too.”

Hizashi had agreed. And once he’d committed to the practice, it had been easier than he had expected. But he’s angry — angry at himself, angry at them, and angry at the world, most of all. He doesn’t like the invisible emotional barrier he’s committed to placing between him and his friends. But, at the end of the day, he can’t deny that it just might be helping him. Even his distance from Shouta seems to be taking some of the weight off his shoulders when he returns home after teaching class. 

At the end of the day, Shouta checks his phone. Hizashi would have texted him at least twice by now — be it about a date, or even just a stupid picture of a cat that he found online. But there’s nothing. He had grown used to that ridiculous point of contact from the other so much that he hadn’t realized just how much he’d relied on it until now.

One, single text from Nemuri sent to him and Tensei vibrates across his phone.

We’re losing him.

Shouta doesn’t respond; but he knows that the simple statement is nothing but the raw, unyielding truth.

A week of Hizashi’s emotional and psychological distance comes and goes, and Shouta isn’t so sure he can handle it anymore. He misses Hizashi more than he ever thought he could miss a person he sees almost every single day. He wants him back, not as a caretaker or a bearer of Shouta’s own tight-knit emotional burden, but as a partner; as someone to spend the weekends with, someone who can make him laugh ‘till he’s snorting and red in the face, and someone he can simply spend time with without the weight of the world across their backs. He never thought he’d find himself craving the physical touch that Hizashi so willingly doles out — even when Shouta isn’t exactly in the mood for it — or the way they used to embrace late at night, quiet and unrelenting in the dark of Hizashi’s quiet bedroom.

He’d treated Hizashi like something disposable. He, Tensei, and Nemuri all had. Not willingly, no — but in their own, self-centered grief, Hizashi had been the last ray of sunshine they’d clung to in hopes that the world might treat them kinder once they’d dragged their feet to the end of whatever long, relentless tunnel that seeing Kurogiri at Tartarus had thrust them into. 

They just hadn’t realized Hizashi had been left behind, unable to reach the light they had to believe existed, even if they couldn’t see it just yet.

Shouta lays in his bed early that Friday night and stares at the dull, unchanging ceiling of his bedroom. Hizashi had always brought so much color into the dullest of places. His bedroom never felt so barren as it did when Hizashi wasn’t here. Sighing, Shouta grabs his phone off the nightstand and all but jams his fingers into the buttons to dial Hizashi’s phone number he’d memorized long ago.

Hizashi picks up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

It takes Shouta a moment to answer. He feels his pulse race in his throat like he’s a teenager talking to Hizashi for the very first time all over again.

“Hey, Hizashi.”

“Hey, man.”

They remain silent on the line, and Shouta sighs.

“How are you?” Shouta asks quietly. He drapes an arm over his eyes, gritting his teeth. His voice sounds fake, and he hates it.

“I’m alright!” Hizashi chirps. “Hands Up Radio just got another sponsor last night, and I’ve been freaking out about it. It’s great news, y’know?”

Shouta breathes a quiet laugh. “That’s good to hear,” he murmurs. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks!”

The line goes silent again. Shouta closes his eyes and takes a steady breath, choosing his words carefully.

“Would you want to get coffee this Friday night? Maybe to celebrate?” Shouta asks. “I’ll buy.”

Hizashi is hesitant to respond.

“You want to get coffee?”

“Yeah. Honestly, Hizashi, I miss you and I feel like shit for the way I’ve been treating you.”

Shouta hears Hizashi sigh quietly. “Shouta, it’s — “

“Don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not,” Shouta snaps. He bites his lip as he tries not to sound harsher than he intends to. Emotional vulnerability is completely and utterly not Shouta’s thing. And maybe, just maybe, his precise lack of emotional vulnerability is partly what got him into this very particular mess in the first place. Swallowing his pride, Shouta grits his teeth and lets the words come out as honestly as he can muster.

“It’s not okay to treat you like a disposable therapist just because you cope with shit by throwing yourself into the midst like an eager cocker spaniel while the rest of us sit on our asses and mope. We all lost someone, and yeah, it’s especially fucked up to lose someone this way. They didn’t teach us this stuff in school. But we didn’t become heroes for the ease of it all, Hizashi.”

Shouta clenches his teeth, gripping the phone harshly in his hand as he forces himself to keep his voice steady over the line. Doing this is hard; but so is everything else about this situation. He’s never given up before when something was hard, and he doesn’t intend to start now.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says slowly. “But my last, lingering shred of narcissism makes me think that maybe I’m worth it enough for a second chance.”

After a moment, Hizashi sighs again.

“You’re so lucky you’re hot, you know that?” he says finally.

Shouta lets out a sound between a harsh laugh and a sob.

“I know I am,” he croaks, laughing quietly into the receiver. “Trust me.”

Hizashi lets out a soft giggle.

“Thank you, Shouta,” Hizashi says seriously. “Thank you for...thank you for apologizing. Look, in your defense, I should have said something sooner. I shouldn’t have kept how I felt bottled up for so long. I didn’t communicate what I felt because I was afraid it would only push you all further away. This past week...I just needed space. And...maybe a small part of me needed to know whether or not you would reach out when I pulled away. I guess at heart, I’m still a kid desperate to be the center of attention.”

They both laugh bitterly.

“We’re all emotionally stunted,” Shouta mumbles. “I don’t know how Toshinori does what he does without losing his goddamn mind. Number one hero and that man still has it in him to smile. I know some of the shit he’s seen, but there’s gotta be stuff that he just doesn’t talk about.”

“I don’t know,” Hizashi admits.

Shouta hums. “Have Tensei and Nemuri reached out to you?”

“No, they haven’t.”

“They will. Just — give them time.”

That seems to please Hizashi well enough, and he agrees that he would.

“So, coffee this Friday?” Shouta asks again.

“Yes!” Hizashi chirps. “Maybe we can...head back to my place afterward..?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“And have sex?”

Hizashi’s small, hopeful voice makes Shouta laugh harder than he has in weeks.

“And have sex,” he confirms. Shouta’s smile never leaves his face. “And maybe,” he continues, “We can even cuddle and watch a movie after.”

Hizashi’s pleased yelp hurts Shouta’s ears, but the sound is quite possibly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 14: How Could You?

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve

Word count: 1530

Brief explanation of El’s fear hallucination

Elianna awoke the next morning with a sore throat, a headache, and a dull ache in her wrists and ankles. With a groan, she rolled onto her stomach, half hoping to suffocate herself in the pillow. She gave up on that after a few seconds, reaching for her phone to check the time.

8:37? I'm late for work. Shit.

She scooped herself out of bed as quickly as possible, fighting off all the various pains in her body, and stumbled to the bathroom. She was halfway through brushing her teeth when Jonathan entered with a mug of coffee, which he placed on the counter next to her.

She recalled the night before and how angry she was with him for leaving her alone there.

But she was in no position to refuse coffee, so she finished brushing her teeth and rinsed her mouth before taking the mug from him with a glare.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ugh," she shook her head, pulling her makeup bag closer to her.

"Alright, stop getting ready; I already called in. You're taking a sick day, and I'm taking care of you." El shoved the bag away from her again and picked up her coffee as she walked to the kitchen for breakfast. Jonathan rolled her eyes at her tantrum and followed her; this was clearly about more than hating mornings.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong? You're the one that insisted on doing it."

"Yeah, I am." She retorted angrily, slamming a cabinet shut. "And you left me alone in there." Jonathan was taken aback, both by the statement and by her anger. It had been a long time since he had seen her like this, but it had never been directed at him or anyone else who didn't deserve it.

"What are you talking about? I was in the room with you the whole time."

"No, you weren't! I thought you would be, but I looked over, and there was someone else there, and you were gone, don't lie to me!" He raised his hands in surrender and slowly walked closer.

"Elianna, listen to me. I didn't get up from that seat until you finally passed out, okay? Just think about it, whoever you saw sitting in that seat was just projected over me." Her glare didn't falter for a second as he spoke, but he could tell that she was thinking. "Why would I lie to you about this, of all the things I could have lied about since you've known me?"

She didn't reply to that, and the glowering look never left her face, but she looked away from him, clearly considering his words very carefully. Eventually, her brow softened, and she put her face in her hands, shaking her head.

"No, you're right." She strained, pushing her hair out of her face. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just got agitated; it made me a little fragile."

"That's better." Jonathan nodded. "Let's go sit, and you can tell me about what you saw, and then we can have breakfast because I get the feeling that this should take priority." El bobbed her head in agreement, and they walked together to sit on the couch.

Over the next few minutes, she explained everything she had seen; the shadows (explaining that the one in his seat clearly represented Zsasz), the spiders, the holes (when she got to that part, she began to scratch nervously), and finally the way the shadows had broken her bones before she lost consciousness.

"How long would you say that it lasted?" Jonathan asked clinically, his face inscrutable.

"I don't know, maybe...half an hour?" It was a low estimate. Her first estimate had been a full hour, but she knew that the trauma could have affected her sense of time. Even so, she was shocked when Jonathan shook his head.

"Actually, it was about fifteen minutes. A little less, maybe." He took in her look of surprise and confusion. "I know it's disorienting. Do you have any questions?" El thought for a moment.

"I understand most of it, I know what I'm afraid of, but I just don't get why Shadow Zsasz took your place instead of just coming with the other one. I mean, does that mean that I'm somehow afraid of you?"

"No, the toxin changes your perception of your environment, that includes people. That being said, I think there is a reason, but it's more abstract than physical."

That would make sense. El knew that she had some mild abandonment issues, and the way that Jonathan explained it, that was the best explanation she could come up with. It made sense that she would be afraid of Jonathan leaving her behind, given that he was the only person of significance in her life. The initial shock had worn off, and after the constructive conversation that they had had, she now found herself preoccupied with other things.

"So...they're not going to have a problem with me taking the day off, are they? I mean, I've barely been here for a month."

"El, I think if anything, they'll be relieved that you're taking a personal day. After everything with Zsasz, people were surprised that you would even go back to work."

"What can I say? I'm a fighter." She grinned. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast." They returned to the kitchen, and El thought about the duration of the hallucination. It had felt so real and so long. I guess that's the point, though, isn't it?

"So, fifteen minutes? Is that a normal amount of time for that strain?" He shook his head.

"When I first tested it, they all lasted closer to half an hour, like you thought." He ran a hand through his hair. "I normally don't continue to test a formula once I make a new one. Now I'm wondering if the effects don't last as long if the batch is older, or if that was specific to you."

It was an interesting thought. The deeper she fell into this plot, the fascinated she became with the idea.

Purely professionally, of course, for the science of it. It was strange to admit that she had always had a hard time empathizing with people. Sympathy was easy enough to fake through, but empathy was a different beast entirely. However, her experience with the fear toxin had made it incredibly easy to empathize with its victims.

Not Zsasz. He had deserved the treatment, and she was sure that given another chance to do it again that she would take it gladly. But even her recent harsh thought that the people of Gotham all deserved punishment (or release, depending on the type of person), now that she had experienced the effects for herself, it was hard to hold onto that thought.

She knew it would happen one way or another, regardless of her level of involvement, so the best option was just to keep with it to avoid the fallout. And she didn't necessarily feel the need to prevent the city's apocalypse, but maybe she would keep her interest in the project purely for educational purposes.

"Well, can't you just test it on someone else?" Jonathan pulled it over.

"I suppose we could run it on Zsasz. I have just enough left of that batch for him, although his previous exposure may skew the data..."

"I mean, it's not like you'll be using an old formula for the attack. This test would just be for your own edification. In which case, the fact that it still works should be enough." He turned his head and gave her a look, a sly smile on his face.

"You just want to poison Zsasz again." El flushed slightly, stammering for a response.

"Now that I know what it's like," she began defensively, "I feel like I might be able to follow his experience a little better. Appreciate it more." He just looked at her, still with the corners of his lips turned up knowingly.

"Whatever you want, El. Sometime this week, I promise. I've been developing a new recipe as well. I think it'll maximize the potency; maybe you'd like to help me mix the testing batch." She nodded. It would satisfy a curious thought to watch the toxin be made.

"I'd be happy to."

"Good." She could see a thought cross over his face before he spoke again. "I'll need to run an errand later today. It shouldn't take long."

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"That woman from the DA's office, if she thinks I'm doing something, then she isn't going to stop until she finds out. I'm going to see if there's something that can be done about her."

Elianna decided that she'd rather not know what that meant or who he was meeting about this particular issue. Unsure of exactly what to say, she offered a noncommittal, "good luck," in response.

The rest of the morning passed without incident: breakfast, idle conversation, followed soon by Jonathan getting dressed and heading off to...wherever he was going.

What exceptionally convoluted bullshit I've gotten myself into this time.