#to just quietly 'disappear' like just keep things like they are rn just without the yearly email and such

[thesoftestcowboy]

.

[httplvki]

a/n: i don’t do/write for requests btw, but i take suggestions or take inspo from messages <3 anw dad jake x daughter is all im writing rn (dad sully x daughter!reader, hurt comfort?, tw for reader getting shot, lol i took one line from shakespeare, ended short sorry)

though everything was a blur, all you feel is pressure on the bullet wound on the side of your abdomen. your once-seated heart now feels like it’s knocking against your ribs.

trying to make out the screams of your mother in the background and the shouting from your father.

“neteyam! keep putting pressure on the wound!” jake shouted while he scurried to find a cloth to wrap your wound

you start to feel a soft texture tightly wrapping around your abdomen.

“hey, hey, hey baby, keep your eyes open for me, yeah?” your father’s voice sounds rushed

you let your eyes adjust to make out your father’s concerned face

“dad, i wanna go home,” you stuttered out, trying your best to keep your eyes open

“i know, i know, don’t worry we’re going home, just focus on me alright?” your father says

you did your best trying to keep your eyes on your father while he slowly picks you up from the rocky surface.

“we’re going home, baby,” was the last thing you heard before you passed out in his arms.

faint noises can be heard once you gain consciousness back.

“sis, please wake up” crying can be heard.

“tuk, it’s fine baby, she’s a strong girl,” reassurance can be heard.

“oh great mother, please!” pleading can be heard.

“i’m sorry” apologies can be heard.

it was all too loud for your cloudy head until everything fell silent again. you fell asleep.

you feel something gently caressing your face. it was a hand much bigger than yours that was stroking your cheek. you slowly start to open your eyes to see what it is or who it is. you let your eyes adjust to see your father’s relieved face gazing down at you.

“oh baby girl, you’re awake,” he said quietly with a smile of relief on his face

you tried to sit up too quickly without thinking. still, it just caused you more pain

“easy there, stay down, alright? you’re going to hurt yourself if you move too much,” jake said, grabbing onto your shoulders and slowly guiding your back down on the mat to lay on.

tears start to prickle your eyes

“daddy..” was the only thing you could let out

who would’ve thought that one word was enough to make the Toruk Makto cry?

the vulnerability and condition of you started to form tears in jake’s eyes. he reached his hand out to cup your left cheek and gently caressed it while his other hand held your right hand like you were about to disappear right in front of him if he wasn’t holding onto you.

“don’t worry baby, you’re alright now,” he reassures you with a shaky voice

“i was so scared,” you cried out with tears running down your face

“i know, i know, you’re here now and nothing is ever gonna take you away from me, alright?” he comforts you while he also tries to comfort himself with his own words.

[leilakisakabiri]

Hey love! Could you maybe please do a negative ending to Your Losing Me. Like after she says “I don’t even know if i wanna be in this relationship rn” she leaves and ofc Pablo chases her she says that “they will talk in the morning” but they obv don’t and Pablo realizes he messed up HARD. You don’t have to do it no pressure.❤️

You're Losing Me (Gavi) *Alternate Ending*

Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior. 

A/N: Hi anon thanks for the request! I'd love to do a negative ending, even though it's a bit late. Making this more of a drabble.

Read the original fic here before continuing. Masterlist

You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.

The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.

after that day you didn't see Gavi again, and while for the first few days he denied it, insistent that you would call like you promised you would, his hope soon turned to anguish as he realized that day wouldn't come.

There were several days that Gavi had to physically restrain himself from driving to your house just to beg for you back. He lost you, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He would be doing a task as mundane as laundry and his mind would start to wander about all the memories the two of you created in this very room - dancing around the area like a bunch of schoolchildren.

Every time the yearning for you came so did the pang of guilt. He couldn't believe that he had once had you all do himself and treated you so poorly. If only he knew how good he had it.

If someone ever granted him a wish, he decided, without a doubt, that he would go back in time and change the way things ended between you two, to save you both, and make sure that he could be the guy for you.

Once he told his friends they quietly talked amongst themselves, muttering about how it was for the better, or how it was just a matter of time till you got back together.

It was only Pedri who took time to talk to the lone midfielder, pulling him aside during a particularly rough day of practice.

"What's going on? Why are you playing so bad?"

"Today's her birthday."

That was all it took for the sympathetic look on Pedri's face to return, as he offered his friend a hug, "I'm sorry man, I know it's hard, but you just have to keep pushing."

Gavi pulled away, shaking his head, voice cracking, "It's so fucking hard. I-I miss her everyday. I just can't believe that for the rest of her birthdays, I won't get to be there."

Pedri chewed on his lip unsure of what to say, "Maybe you can get her back eventually?"

"No she won't take me back. We're over. For good." Gavi confirmed. He knew that you deserved better, and as much as it killed him, he loved you enough to want the best for you, and as much as he wished and prayed, it didn't change the fact that he knew that it wasn't him.

[words-and-threads]

I'm having some complicated feelings about Old Gods of Appalachia rn....

So...in two different stories, groups of societal outcasts, many of then racialized (as well as an openly genderfluid/trans person), have gotten involved with Bad powers and the good witches (usually with the white land-owning Walker family in the center) have intervened because the wrong people (in their opinion) are getting killed, or are getting killed too publicly. Basically, upsetting the status quo where only the isolated, poor, and criminalized get murdered.

The Walkers help, sure. They'll even kill. Quietly, when they're sure the consequences won't hurt too much.

Good Mother Ministries begins represented by the poor and the rejected, but the only one present for the Big Fight is just a venomous vengeful bitch. The rest of them, judging from the wiki, just disappear from the story. They're sympathetic...but wrong, misled, naive. And ultimately forgotten.

No, they should listen to powerful women from families which pass down that power, and only from the right families which are established and respected. If ordinary people or even other magic workers without the authority of a respected family try to do something the Walkers would disapprove of, it turns out they're wrong and a danger to themselves and others.

But like...are the Walkers braving transient camps to bring food? Are they challenging the wealthy families that use and discard poor women? They help the women of the Clutch to get a girl out of danger, but they don't even visit the place until a few too many men die in animal attacks. They leave that commmunity alone on its poisoned land, no idea what's going on, and they only even look closer because the problem got too big to ignore. But the story proves them right, moral, clear-headed unlike the poor people on the sharp end of society who keep getting carried away.

Oh, but in the second season it's a middle class white girl who's the problem! Except that the whole Good Mother group was quite keen on the whole vengeance and revolution thing, but they will never be seen or heard from again. Let's not discuss their grievances, legitimate or otherwise. Let's not question why so many people were so desperate they turned to a zombie queen and a horde of undead animals for help.

It's so frustrating for a story that touches on mining strikes, fighting off the Klan, the theft of land from indigenous people...to keep shying away from the actual messy edge of systemic change and taking refuge in safe unproblematic heroes who prioritize order over justice.

[thesmpisonfire]

[Last post I'll make about this]

Okay so, everything I, as a person who has been seeing this going down for 6 years now and is not a particular fan of neither side, know about the Cellbit and Sasa situation

First thing first: I'm really not a fan of Cellbit these past years. Yes he was a big part of my childhood going from 13-16 yo following him. I got to see the breakup first hand and it was around the time he was shifting his content in a way i didn't like so it was just another push for me to stop following him as close. As for nowadays, hes the BIGGEST ttrpg streamer of Brazil, he changed a lot, he has achieved SO MUCH. He's a great storyteller and rper. But its a guy I'd never sit in a bar table to talk to.

Since he was so big, i still saw all this developing as the years passed. I saw the exposed thread, and i saw sasa's first stream on the subject and his own tweet admitting to have done everything Sasa had said (and a clip, that I can't for the love of god find rn. It was in the exposed thread but some tweets have disappeared since then so :/) and to stop harassing her because she was saying the truth and he was the toxic one and he was going to do therapy

A LOT OF PEOPLE showed their support to Sasa at the time. Cellbit lost a lot of subs and a lot of YouTubers covered the situation. It WASN'T pushed under the rug, it was front and center, EVERYONE that was in the Brazilian yt environment at the time knew about it

Both him and Sasa stopped talking about it after, they said everything had been said, Sasa's friends backed her up with screenshots and sharing her vod. Sasa changed everything about her media presence, trying to distance herself from Cellbit, but ppl never stopped asking her, ever since 2018/2019, getting worse whenever Cellbit did something big, ppl relived her stuff, and she got SHOWERED in hate for it, everytime

And she asked to stop bringing it up because it wasn't doing any good, it was just bringing her more hate and making ppl distance themselves from her bc she was becoming = to drama in online communities

And then she had a breakdown on stream in 2021 about it. Y'all seen the clips with caption.

First thing i have to say: These clips are out of order. And out of context as well

This is the thread with the almost entirety of her Livestream

First thing to point out: She has not healed from her relationship with Cellbit at that point (2021). She didn't manage to get support immediately after and only got psychological support in 2020, 1-2 years after everything she went down

She is crying and she is saying how she is getting tired of being silenced and being ignored. She says she's her own person and did everything to distance herself from Cellbit but people keep bringing that up. She says how everyweek someone still shows up to ask her about Cellbit, how when the exposed came out she got so much hate it badly fucked with her mental health. She says ppl started spreading around she was also toxic, when she wasn't AND cellbit never said she was. She then says she doesn't wanna keep talking in details or bringing it up again (which y'all can see at the very start of this same captioned clip), plus saying she left a lot of details out BECAUSE she didn't want to enter in those details

She then asks if ppl are going to keep ignoring her words (dismissing her abuse, twisting her words, ignoring her pleads to be left alone), to do it quietly without invading her chat or personal socials bc she is tired of being hammered with that everyday and she just wants to heal

Once again: Cellbit confirmed everything, and both have ended discussion, Sasa wants to be left alone

This is all I know. Now please, stop dragging Sasa back into this. I've seen this poor girl crying way too many times

[withclawandvine]

the world is being.... a lot rn and i needed something Cozy. so here’s another fluffy bkg drabble where reader has adhd (:

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of your name, even though Katsuki had spoken as quietly as he was capable of. He smirked a little when your wild eyes met his, before it melted into something softer, more fond. You let yourself study it, that rare openness in his eyes and posture, for just a second before turning back to the half-finished scarf in your hands. 

At least, you thought it was a scarf, or that it could be one. The truth was that when you’d sat down that afternoon with a ball of yarn, a crochet hook and a string of YouTube tutorials, you didn’t have much of a plan beyond finding something to do with your restless fingers that wasn’t scrolling endlessly through your phone without even absorbing any of the content. Now you had two feet of something coiled in your lap. 

“I thought you were already asleep,” you explained, just a little breathless. He’d trudged past you almost an hour ago, heading straight for the shower only stopping long enough to ruffle your hair with a heavy hand. 

“I’m goin’ now.” 

But he didn’t. Even after you told him goodnight, he just hovered there, blinking at you expectantly. You tilted your head a little, waiting. Thinking he was going to give you a kiss or return the sentiment. Instead, he just said, “It’s getting late.”

The getting was for your sake. Because for Katsuki, it already was late, even by his new standard. Since moving in together, your nightly rituals had slowly reshaped themselves to accommodate the other, carving time out of each night for quiet togetherness before you slept. You’d known just by looking at him that tonight would be a deviation from this new routine. But the thought of having to keep still and silent made your fingers twitch involuntarily. You completed another stitch to mollify them, “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

He made a dismissive sort of noise, “Do whatever you want.” 

You wanted to finish the row you were on so you didn’t lose track of the stitches, while half-expecting that proverbial finish line to keep moving back, until you either ran out of energy or yarn. Whichever came first. But it was as if a spell had been broken, leaving you feeling lackadaisical and painfully aware of the silence. Your mind started again to wander, as it tended to do. The runaway thoughts drifted to Katsuki, as they tended to do. You thought about the weary slant of his shoulders, and the way they’d seemed to slump further as you watched him disappear down the hall. 

You finished the last stitch in the row and carefully folded it up before rushing through your nighttime routine. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since he’d turned in, but when you crept into the bedroom, Katsuki was already curled up on his side, breathing steadily, cast in the barely-there glow of the bedside lamp he’d left on for you. You slipped under the covers and wrapped yourself around him.

You pressed your nose into the nook between his shoulder blades and murmured, so softly, in case he was already asleep, “You could’ve told me you wanted me to come with you.”

You weren’t sure why you said anything; you already knew why he didn’t, and that he likely never would. Katsuki was still learning to be comfortable with vulnerability, and asking for attention or affection was one of the few things that didn’t come naturally to him. 

His response was slow and slurred, “Knew you’d say no.” 

You were starting to think that no matter how well you knew Katsuki, there would always be moments like this to prove that he knew you a little bit more. Since the start of your relationship, Katsuki had watched you learn and forget a language, perfect a macaron recipe, and watch the same TV series three times back to back. He knew how easily and frequently you disappeared into things. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kissed his warm skin. 

“Not mad.” He wrapped a hand around the wrist you had draped over his ribs and tugged on it, pulling you even closer to him, as if to prove it. You maneuvered your other hand so you could run your fingers through the soft spikes of hair at the base of his neck. Katsuki sighed contentedly, then amended, “Anymore.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty, and the mental image of him pouting into his pillow, but you were serious when you said, “You should be. You had a hard day, I should’ve paid more attention.”

“Shuddup.” Katsuki’s response was more of a sigh than a demand, the sound muffled by the rustling of sheets as he rolled over, throwing a leg over your hips and nestling his face into the crook of your neck. As he returned your hand to his head, you felt him mumble against your skin, “ ‘S way past my bedtime.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor. 

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point  towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and  unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair.  Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly. 

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

[kkoongiee]

txt scenarios — txt comforting an overwhelmed s/o ‹𝟹

prompt, :00 txt + comforting a vv stressed s/o who hasnt eaten in a while because they were busy with school?? thank u sm ^^

## angst % gn!reader % wc: 1426 [ cursing, anxiety, depression, mental health discussion, ]

yeonjun will be worried the whole week before he comes by with a SHITTON of snacks because u deserve them??? ur still hunched over ur laptop and he goes to u and ur eyes are bloodshot .. hes like baby this won’t do .. 🧍 yeonjun will take over proof-reading for u while u get something to eat n go freshen up!!! he tells u to get into those jammies and he will be waiting for u to come back so he can finish up with u laying down next to him :((( he’ll prolly give u little pats on the head while he clicks away at keys to finish it up, if u can’t sleep then junnie will want u to talk to him about good things 🥺 he’ll listen to u talk about ur day and talk about what u r gonna do, then he’ll give u a gentle reminder that he loves u and that he wants u to take better care of urself!! yeonjun doesn’t want u to be hurting urself and neglecting urself because of school, he’ll be snuggling into u and tells u that he’ll be up to make u breakfast in the morning .. this boy is a saint!!! he will do anything and everything to make u feel good & keep u happy, he wants to see u and hear u always be lively 🥺 yeonjun does not mind picking up the slack around ur place, he just wants u to be healthy rly that’s all

soobin will ask u like .. can we go on a date?? later?? :] baby hasn’t seen u for the past week so he rllyyy wants to see u, but ofc he receives a no bc ur too busy?? so he’s like oh ok, i can just come over??? and ur like, no i’m busy i don’t want anyone over rn so soobin won’t accept that and ur room is dark asf, as well as the fact the house is a literal mess and not clean at all?? ur skimming thru ur books quickly, as if ur life depended on it which he presumed u thought that .. he’ll talk softly to u, hand on ur shoulder and presses a kiss to ur head :( ‘dont u think u should relax bub? 🥺 cmere’ ur kinda upset but u rllyyyy missed soobin and u just didn’t want to work anymore, so u supposed u could just take a moment to be with him?? ‘this is why u couldn’t come out with me?’ and u just nod softly ughh his heart would just hurt so bad 😭 rly it would, but to just hear u say u haven’t done like anything?? these past few days, cleaning, eating, laundry, or just going outside — this is not okay with him!!! he’ll order something for u & let u go take a shower/bath while he puts some of ur things in the laundry,, soobin wants u to relax and when u finish eating and close ur eyes to sleep,, he will begin on cleaning the place up 😣 he wants to take rly good care of u, the thought of u unhappy or sick and whatnot it literally hurts him to think of that, especially bc of school??? soobin hates school more than ever now

beomgyu will be coming over for his twice a week meet-up and he’s used to ur half clean half dirty place, but ur apartment is spotless?? there’s nothing in the sink, no food wrappers nada, no stray clothes on the ground so he’s like 🤨 something is wrong. then he remembers it’s time for exams and such + the added on school work and extra time spent studying??? like wtf??? beomgyu will find u on the bed, ur eyes are so tired and he can’t act like he hasn’t seen u like this before .. he’s seen this a few times - u disappear and u hole urself at ur place, beomgyu needing to talk u down and get u to come and rest. it pains him to see u so upset over being the perfect student, he could not care if u were as dumb as dirt (he appreciate the smarts too) but he thinks ur a pretty great student!!! gyu will pull u away from the screen and give u the tightest hug, which will probably lead to tears on ur part and he’ll pull u back on the bed. he already presumed u hadn’t ate or done anything for the week, so he already came prepared??? duh?? beomgyu know he can’t feel what you’re feeling or like help u thru all the rough patches, but u bet ur ass he will try his hardest to help u feel better or at least get u out of bed!!! he’ll talk for awhile, listen for the most part, and then gyu puts away everything so he can lay down on the bed without the stray papers and books poking him 🧍

taehyun is kinda used to it, he just seems like he wants to hear allll about u, the good and the bad and he is always checking up on you. he’ll know before hand about school and after a few days (he doesn’t wanna bother u he knows u like ur space sometimes and the last thing he would wanna do is interrupt ur zen mode during school cause he’d hate it if someone did that to him too) taehyun knows it’s time for him to go over to your house. u live in dorms with a friend, but it’s pretty empty most of the time and the house is cluttered but it’s usually like that,, however ur room is just .. a mess. he has to stop himself from thinking like wow this is bad, taehyun would never want to think bad of you — just sometimes he ponders on these small thoughts. he doesn’t interrupt u, he gives ur head a few pats before sitting on ur bed and watching u. he gets the feeling u haven’t been taking care of urself whatsoever, so he heads off to the kitchen for a water and an apple, very simple which taehyun doesn’t think you would refuse. when he deems its time to rest only five minutes later, there’s the whines because u don’t want to but taehyun insists. u can always finish tomorrow, or in a few hours if u be quiet .. u might cry or just stay silent, whatever it is — he’ll lay there quietly with you and he’ll just toy with your baby hairs before his hand rests on ur cheek, giving you a kiss that makes really anything feel better .. it’s all temporary because taehyun knows there definitely will be more tests and stress in the future, but he always has time in order to help u out.

huening kai 😭 well for starters, idk i feel like he’d be just a smidge sad that u didn’t tell him about these things .. but nonetheless he is over in a heart beat upon your phone call!! well he actually stays on the line the whole time for u, mostly because hyuka knows how nervous u are and he just wants u to not be alone :(( he has been there for a few anxiety attacks + he knows the feelings of stress from school all too well, so he wants to go out of his way to do these things for you. he’ll be so quick to come to u inside, asking silenty if u want to be touched or just left alone :( at that point ur heaving and huening kai is kind of petrified to leave u alone, so he just gets water and turns on the fan before coming back and sits there before easing into a hug, he can quite literally feeling ur heart nearly beating out of ur chest, but ur arms weakly wrap around him and huening kai is just like 🥺 because yes u r very cute but he feels awful for u!!! he’ll share a few words, mumbling to u and rubbing ur back because obviously u won’t go bounce back immediately but he treats u like u hung the moon!!!!!!! as for the fact he knows u haven’t done anything, the first evidence being yes your oily hair, hyuka is more comfortable with staying there until u fall asleep & then he’ll sneak off to make u something in the kitchen to make u something and then come to wake u up, it might be very simple like ramen 😭 but he puts all the effort and knowledge he has to make u happy

[angelanimedesaray]

hey i saw your requests are open and i have the BIGGEST dad levi brainrot rn, can i request Levi and Reader in a long term relationship, reader’s sibling has a newborn kid and reader takes care of the kid and Levi sees how motherly reader is being, how would he react? i’m curious about what you think!

AN:  Ohhhhhh I love some Dad!Levi, I’ve got at least two or three fic ideas with eventual Dad!Levi, so it’ll be good to dip my toe into the waters a little earlier than I otherwise would have :D  I had these two little short scenes almost immediately come to mind when I read this and while I was at work, and its the first thing I started to do when I got home :D  Thank you for the request--I don’t get many <3

Plus, I think everyone needs some happy fluff after the two story whammies I just delivered XD

Fanfic One-Shot Request is below the cut.

~*~Different Kinds of Gifts~*~

*Levi’s POV*

He was midway through his day, finished with his daily cleaning routine (besides his own room) and finished with helping with morning training.  He was giving himself a bit of a break, and by break, he meant he was going to spend a few hours in his office doing paperwork.

When he opened the door to his office, he was met with an unexpected sight.

It wasn’t the same office that he used to have--once the two of you had solidified your relationship as a serious one and started practically living with one another, Erwin had moved the two of you into a larger space that was more like a small apartment than a simple office and bedroom.  The main front room was still his office, but it doubled as a living room as well, with a couch, fireplace, bookshelves, and lounge chairs taking up a portion of the room off to the side, though Levi’s desk and workspace was still center, and a straight shot from the front door with nothing in the way.  Instead of one branched off room there were three--the bedroom, of course, off to the right, as well as a washroom and a small private kitchen whose doorways were along the left wall.

Practically the lap of luxury by Scout standards.

However, right now the little sanctuary you two shared was occupied by more than just you.

Levi paused just in front of the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob and the door hovering open just a crack as he processed the sight in front of him.

You were sitting on your usual spot on the couch, somewhere he actually knew to look for you whenever he needed to find you.  However, in your arms was a small, carefully wrapped bundle, tiny arms hanging free and moving involuntarily around in the air, coming to curious stops whenever they collided with your chest, neck, or chin, little fingers curling instinctively against the human being they found.  A small face of soft and not-yet defined features was peeking out from the bundle, the cloth wrapped around its head like a snugly fitting cloak, and its eyes were open, staring widely at your face as you peered down at the babe with a soft smile, a mouth that could probably be covered by the pad of his finger working as if it was trying to copy the sounds you were making as you spoke softly to the little one.

For a moment, Levi was just...confused.  What were you doing with a baby in his office?  Where had the baby even come from?  He was pretty sure that whole thing about storks coming to deliver swaddled babies to expecting parents was an out for parents who weren’t ready to have the babies talk.

He was pretty sure.  The sudden appearance of a baby in your arms made him doubt for a couple of moments.

With the initial surprise passing, Levi shut the door behind him much more quietly than he initially would have, though you had already looked up by now to see him entering the room, that soft smile still on your face.

“Hey--didn’t expect to see you for a couple more hours, at least,” you said, as if it wasn’t noteworthy that you had a baby in your arms.

“Paperwork--what’s with the...”

Levi was dismissive about why /he/ was here, considering he was much more interested in why the /baby/ was here.  You only chuckled at his confusion, though, one of your fingers brushing against the baby’s little cheek and making the baby try and look to see what touched them, eyes following the finger as it traced lazy circles in the air in front of the baby’s face.

“You know how my sister had her baby the other week?” you said pointedly, and the pieces clicked into his mind.  Ah, /that’s/ what was going on.  Babysitting.

“I thought their boy already had a reputation for his lungs,” Levi said wryly, moving over to his desk and taking off his jacket, draping it carefully over the back of the chair for the time being until he was ready to put it back on and get back to work /outside/ his office.

“Oh, believe me, he does--he came here screaming and crying and people kept checking in to see what the hell was going on,” you said with a chuckle.  “But we got pretty well acquainted.  He seems to like me, now.  Don’t tell my sister, though--she’ll want to know what my secret is.”

“What is your secret?  They were having a rough time getting him to quiet down,” Levi remarked as he took a seat, remembering the tired circles under your sisters eyes the last time he’d seen her and how she’d been running through an exhaustive list of what they’d already tried to calm their newborn son down.

You shrugged.  “There is none.  I guess I just have a gift for it,” you said with a twinkle in your eye, turning your attention back to the newborn as he seemed to be burying his face in your chest.  “Hey, that’s not going to give you any food, I’m not your Momma!  Where’s that bottle.”

“Hey, hands off, those are mine,” he grumbled at the baby as he pulled a stack of papers towards him.  You shot him a look which he returned with the ghost of a smile flickering across his face, a bit of amusement in his eyes as he kept track of your movement through the office and apartment as you sought out the bottle to feed him.

Levi’s attention turned back to the paperwork he was planning on doing once his curiosity had been satiated, a relative silence falling over the room.  For the most part.  There was the occasional noise from the baby that got to eagerly suck on the warm milk after you’d disappeared briefly into the kitchen to heat up the milk.  You walked in slow, directionless lines around the room, wandering around to keep the baby entertained and in motion while you fed him, and a few minutes afterwards when you burped him (Making sure there was no mess left behind, of course), and as you simply hummed or talked to him, finger brushing against his lips, or his ears, or his cheeks, just giving him little reassuring touches until one of his hands curled around your fingers.  The smile you had when that happened was heart-melting, even if you had prompted it by letting your finger brush against the baby’s tiny hand, and it might have been a reflex more than anything else.

It wasn’t long before the baby was sleeping, but instead of laying him down on, say, the bed in the bedroom, you simply brought out a crescent moon pillow from the stash in the bedroom your sister had apparently given you while you were babysitting, and sat on the couch.  There you cradled the baby closely to you, mostly laying him on the pillow so he was securely held to you and you wouldn’t have to keep a hold of him with your arms, though they rested around him along the rim of the pillow.  Once he was safe and secure, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh and slipping off into a light sleep, something Levi could tell by the sound of your breathing.

The entire time, his attention kept getting drawn off the paperwork in front of him, watching you out of the corner of his eyes so you wouldn’t catch him, gaze following you as you paced around the room, watching how you interacted with the baby that seemed so content in your arms.  Now that you were asleep, he gazed more openly, even putting the pen down for a few moments with his arms lying loosely in front of him on the table, a small smile curling across his lips as he watched you and the baby sleeping soundly, the peaceful silence in the room somehow warmer than the sun outside.

A few days later, and the sight of you with your sister’s baby still hadn’t left his mind.

Currently, the image was plaguing him as the two of you stole some time for yourselves, the door to the apartment/office locked, with you sitting properly on the couch and Levi stretched out along the couch, his head in your lap as you gently threaded your fingers through his hair in a relaxing, soothing manner, allowing him to relax and stew in his own thoughts as he gazed up at you.

He was thinking about that peaceful moment when he’d watched you after you’d fallen asleep with the baby situated securely within your arms on the pillow.  He thought about that warm smile and the bright look in your eyes, how quickly the baby had taken a liking to you, how you’d said you had a gift for it.  He was looking at you in the present, but his mind was projecting an image that had been slowly solidifying in his mind since that day, of what it would be like, what it would feel like.

“What if we had a baby?”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden question as you looked down at him in your lap, your hand pausing halfway through his hair.  “What?”

His cheeks colored with a light blush as he realized he’d just blurted that out loud without any context or explanation, just dropped it on you without warning.  “Not right now, there’s too much risk, but...eventually.  What if we had a baby?  When this is over?”

Your eyes were wide with surprise, lips moving without words coming out as if you were seeking for the right thing to say.  Suddenly, he got worried he’d somehow said the wrong thing, that he’d simply assumed, that he’d let his little fantasies run away with him without stopping to see what you thought about it.

“Unless...you don’t want kids,” he said, quickly trying to retreat and take back his blurted out question, already mentally kicking himself for springing this on you.

“No, I...I think I do, some day, I just...wasn’t expecting to be talking about it right now.  Honestly, I thought I was going to be the one to bring it up, not you,” you said with a slight laugh, hand running much more tenderly and intentionally this time through his hair to soothe him and any worries your hesitation had caused him.  “I do.  I’d love to have a child with you one day, Levi,” you promised him quietly.

Levi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes to conjure up that mental image of you holding a child you’d had with him, that same warm look in your eyes--no, warmer.  Sparkling.  Like they were right now as you promised to have a child with him.

“One day...” he agreed in a low murmur.

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds

[kanene-yaaay]

Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans.  ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

                              [~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did. 

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it. 

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup  brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact. 

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

    “Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot? 

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it. 

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.  

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses 

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~] 

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit. 

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over. 

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!” 

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence. 

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

[arigatouiris]

remember... me? // nakahara chuuya x reader

Author’s Note: Being awol for so long could only mean I was drowning in Bungo Stray Dogs and am now a hoe for Chuuya and Dazai. No regrets. I’m on season three rn and I’m only going to go on and read the manga after this, so I’m just THIRSTY. Hope you like this!

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Summary: Ever since laying his eyes on you, Chuuya sensed a familiarity that almost suffocated him. The ever-growing sense of deja vu didn't disappear even as he had you locked in his arms, or even as he stayed away; there was no explanation to it, whatsoever. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love? But then again, what didn't he?

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft chuuya, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of blood, swearing (because Chuuya ofc), slight amnesia? ah, you’ll see, ig that’s it? 

Even before you fell in love, you had always known that it was a bad idea. As unfortunate as you were, every time you felt a close connection with someone, it ended negatively. Whether it was the first boy you had ever kissed, who had broken your heart ruthlessly by kissing another boy a few days later, or the first person you thought you were in love with who had broken your heart by declining your proposal. Love had always left a remnant of displeasure and fear in your heart, and even without these experiences, you were certain that the concept of love was scary as it was. It wasn't as if Nakahara Chuuya was any different. Well, at least, he wouldn't be.

As soon as you opened your eyes, you noticed how the sun blossomed right outside your window. You knew from the telltale signs of dawn that it was your cue to leave; getting dressed would take less than 30 seconds, and heading out the door would take another 30. In less than two minutes, you'd be out of Nakahara Chuuya's hair, and live your life without the worry of any unnecessary attachment sticking to your psyche. However, for a moment, you lay there, admiring the lone tear that leaked out of his left eye, and you mindlessly wiped it away before it reached his cheek. You wanted to smile at his apparent softness, something you knew he'd try to hide with everything he had. You quietly got off the bed, careful not to throw the covers off his naked torso, and just as you were putting on your pants, your eyes darted to a very asleep Chuuya on the bed, obviously naked from the events of last night, before a thought crossed your mind—oh, how you'd kill just to linger around, but duty calls. A person so devastatingly afraid of love had no business to wish for fluff, it was just roll-call. A sigh exited your lips as you traversed on, mindful not to lay any loud step to awaken the sleeping beauty. To Chuuya, you were someone he had met just the night before, you weren't aware of his opinions on one night stands, but you were of the firm belief that they had to remain just one. Goodbye, Chuuya, you thought before sneaking out the door, almost as easily as you came in.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. He felt a long-forgotten feeling at the back of his eyelids as if he had cried—but Chuuya stopped doing that long ago. He never cried again, he had seen and lived through too much even to consider letting his emotions loose. Yet, why had there been that feeling lingering behind that morning? His eyes searched for any sign of you but when he found none, his heart sank; he was familiar with one night stands, but he hadn't imagined that you adhered to such rules so stringently.

Ah, f*ck, he thought, as he sat up on the bed. He let out a shaky breath before feeling his eyes burn once more. His left hand reached forward and wiped off an incoming tear from his right eye before he frowned. What the f*ck? He thought before groaning. Something must've gone into my eye, he thought; desperate not to think of you. You had left behind your smell and as people say, memory and smell are intertwined. However, Chuuya didn't know that.

A short while after his shower that morning, Chuuya's phone rang indicating that he was needed elsewhere. The stupor that he had been transported into was over, and the feeling that he may have forgotten something had to be buried.

    "Yeah?" Chuuya grumbled, ignoring his aching stomach; he knew he was forgetting something, something almost vital to his existence and identity, but his common sense reminded him that post-sex emotions can be overwhelming.

    "Oh, rough morning, Chuuya-kun?" Mori's voice from the other end did little to ease his growing uneasiness.

    "What is it, Mori-san?"

    "I'm starting to worry about you. Chuuya-kun. You disappeared last night and just left. Regardless, your private affairs are your own, after all. I need you to look into something."

Took him long enough to come to the damn point, "What is it?"

    "There's a large collection of ammunition that the mafia's stored by the bay. Rumor has it that someone's discovered that location and is intending on... borrowing our merchandise. I can't have that happen, you see. It's our produce, after all."

    "Ah?! You can send someone else for something so small! Why can't you send the Black Lizards or something—"

    "Oh, Chuuya-kun! I'm asking you because I know I won't have to ask again."

Chuuya hated taking orders from someone else, but he liked to believe he held some amount of agency in these areas. Letting out a long breath, Chuuya ended the call once accepting what needed to be done. It was simple enough, considering he didn't have anyone to kill or torture for information. As long as this meant he could work alone, Chuuya was glad. His life had reached a certain blissful limbo ever since Dazai's disappearance, not that he was complaining. Walking over to his hat, which was gracelessly laying on the floor, he felt the familiar smell reach his nostrils again—your smell, to be precise—and he almost froze as he reached to pick his hat. A sense of deja vu burned through his veins; strangely, these moments were occurring far too many times for him even to count. Some days, Chuuya could sense mornings repeat themselves, and nights disappear. Days would sometimes come to a standstill and sometimes, he'd lose them entirely. Time was breaking itself down rapidly, and sometimes, it grew numb.

Chuuya then did what Chuuya did best and ignored the entirety of it before letting his legs carry him to his next destination; he had always been a journey first, destination later type of guy, but Chuuya had mellowed down through the years. He wasn't the same free-spirited, arrogant 15-year old—he was now a man.

On reaching the bay Mori had mentioned, Chuuya's eyes narrowed when he spotted members of the Port Mafia having already been posted there. If people are here, then why'd Mori-san tell me to come here? Chuuya walked toward them before tapping a seemingly large man on his shoulder and waiting to hear from him.

    "Ah, Chuuya-san! Thank goodness you're here!"

    "What the f*ck's the hold up? If our guns are here, then just relocate—"

    "We'd do that, but... there's a deranged person inside who's locked themselves in there! I think they've got an explosive and that could jeopardize everything! The guns, the dock, uh... Mori-san will—"

    "Shut up, will ya?" If this was already annoying him, Chuuya could only wonder what the rest of the task would do. "Did you take a look at this deranged person?"

The man shook his head, "N-Not really. They've been here all morning, in fact."

    "Oh? No one's seen this person get in?"

    "I don't think so—"

    "Tch, useless." Chuuya turned toward the entrance of the building and noticed how the shutters were closed.

    "Also, one more thing, Chuuya-san," the man admonished, "There was a letter that was slipped out of the shutter. It was addressed to you."

This got his attention. Addressed to me? That's why Mori-san sent me here. Chuuya took the slip of paper before opening it, and on it was written with a neat cursive — 'I'm willing to speak to only Nakahara Chuuya, not anyone else. You do not know my ability, so if anyone approaches the building apart from him, I'll blow this place up.' A smirk landed on his face at the seemingly suicidal note that this person had written, and half of his mind wondered if it was Dazai who had played this ridiculous scheme. Letting out a breath, he waved his hand before walking toward the building and standing right in front of the shutters.

    "Alright," He said loudly, "Open the damn shutters. It's me. Nakahara Chuuya!"

When the shutters did open, Chuuya stepped inside without a second thought; once he took close to six or seven steps inside, the shutters closed right behind him, keeping the light away. His eyes didn't waver, though. He had spotted the person in question's silhouette before the light left the room.

    "This is mighty stupid," Chuuya said, laughing, "Blackmailing the Port Mafia? You're some idiot, aren't ya?"

    "It isn't blackmailing, really," Came a familiar voice, and Chuuya froze. "It was a bad calculation, is all. I got a tip that there were illegal weapons here and I wanted to find out myself if that was true, but little did I know..." You stepped out of the shadow, with a sweet smile plastered over your face, "...that the Port Mafia was involved. By the time I could think of a justification, I trapped myself here and willingly gave myself to you."

It took him a couple of seconds to register what to say. He wasn't always thrown for a toss, Chuuya was sometimes quick-witted, but you seemed to have that annoying wit that reminded him of a certain suicidal moron. Your smile was infectious. But then again, so was the plague.

    "You're not very smart, are you?" Chuuya countered with a straight face.

You only tilted your head in that annoyingly sweet way and said, "It wasn't a problem last night, was it?"

Chuuya's face brightened at the sudden recollection of your interactions from the night before. He turned his face away from you, not before regretting the action since that caused you to laugh at his sudden change in behavior. Chuuya wasn't shy, he didn't have a shy bone in his body—but, Chuuya could be put in awkward situations that made him feel bashful. Once your laughter ceased, he noticed how sullen your expression got suddenly. A dim look of hesitance plastered all over your face and there it was again—the deja vu—he recalled someone having written in a book he had once read that deja vu was simply a remembrance of the future. But then why had your facial expressions struck a chord in him the way that it had? Letting out a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket before dialing the one person who could end this.

    "Mori-san? Yeah, it's me. The issue's solved."

As soon as he placed his phone back inside his pocket, Chuuya chose to accept what he was feeling right then. Yes, it had been a one night stand with you, but something had been altered in the due course of time that he had spent with you. Ever since he laid eyes on you drinking alone in that bar, wine that he knew was cheap and low-class, ever since he had offered to buy you wine that you swore you'd love more than the cheap stuff you were drinking, Chuuya knew that interacting with you was a poison that he willingly swallowed, as if his life was dependent on it. Your quirky smirks, the way your eyes crinkled at the pressure of his gaze, the way you licked your lips after tasting the wine he had recommended, the way your eyes widened at the tenacity of the flavor, and the way your eyes met his, just a moment after, and a smile crawled its way to where a surprised look was—Chuuya was quite aware what this feeling was.

But, you had gotten out of bed hours before he could open his eyes. You had run away from the possibility of Chuuya getting to see those very reactions from you again. If you had denied him those experiences in the future, could Chuuya even ask them from you? It felt deeply insulting that you didn't choose to give them to him yourself, but for some reason, Chuuya didn't mind taking another step forward.

    "What is it? You want me to repay you for saving my life?"

Chuuya scoffed before straightening his posture. "That's right. You owe me."

Your eyes twinkled at the teasing tone of his voice, "Oh? And what is it that I owe you, Nakahara Chuuya-san?"

    "A date," He said, almost too quickly, knocking the air right out of you, "I want a date."

You were staring at Chuuya as if you were a blind person staring at the sun for the very first time. You weren't just surprised at his blatant honesty, but you were surprised that he had outright asked you out as if it were some demand. There was no hint of hesitation lodged in his voice, but that was Chuuya; he never hesitated before doing something he was sure would result in success. You had to give him more credit than that, honestly. You would have honestly laughed if your heart wasn't accelerating like a fawn running for its life, but at the same time, you were glad. More or less.

    "I'm... surprised."

Chuuya scoffed before turning around to leave, "Yeah, I don't like it when I wake up to an empty bed. If we f*cked last night, then I'd like to know it was stellar. Or I'd rather it doesn't happen."

If that's the premise, so be it, you thought, a soft smile etched on your face. A smile Chuuya had seen many times before but simply had forgotten. When you walked out of there, no member of the Port Mafia followed you or even gave you a stink-eye, you were left to wander on your own. However, a hand gripped your wrist just as you were about to leave—your eyes widened to see Chuuya's intense gaze burning yours.

    "Not a word to anyone about this."

It took you a second to realize he was talking about the ammunition and not him asking you out. When you blushed right then, you were glad he didn't spot it; or if he did, he didn't make too much of it. There was no need to say anything more, you knew when to meet him and what time as well. Just as the previous night. Chuuya never had to wait three days to know if someone was interested; Chuuya took what he liked because, for the most part, it definitely liked him back as well.

*

Unlike what most people believed about Nakahara Chuuya, he hated being angry. Even though he sported a constant frown across his face that he seemed to carry with pride, anger was quite rare for him to carry around with it. Anger made him feel vulnerable, dangerous—in a way that he didn't like; it deprived him of control, agency, dominance; it was a paralyzing emotion that rendered him helpless. He didn't need anger to get anything done—in fact, Chuuya was beyond that. However, that night, when he waited two hours for you to show up and you didn't, Chuuya felt a different sort of anger.

An ire born out of devastating humiliation was no ire at all. It was a rage nestled in a dark place, reminding him of the Corruption that he desperately wished to forsake. Chuuya not only felt humiliated for being stood up, he felt a deep, growing sorrow—a sorrow that didn't involve tears or screaming but silence, which was the worst indicator. Quietly, he left the bar where he had first met you and walked out only to notice that it was raining. One of the things he prided about himself was his ability to deduce things quickly—sure, he wasn't as witty as Dazai was, not that he'd ever admit that, but he was smart where he needed to be. Recalling details about you that most people would have forgotten seemed simple not because he was as talented as he thought he was, no, it was because you were impossible to forget. A drug that he just couldn't shake off.

His legs then carried him toward an area that seemed so familiar that he felt a wave of nausea itch at his throat. Chuuya clawed at his collarbones to stop the feeling from spreading but the nausea had reached his head and he felt as uncomfortable as when he had too much wine in a single night, on an empty stomach. Reaching a particular door that screamed at him for some godforsaken reason, Chuuya didn't bother knocking; the confidence bubbled inside his chest alongside the nausea. He spotted you on the couch, a bottle of wine in your hands—the wine he had recommended to you the night before—and your eyes widen at his sudden appearance.

    "Chuuya!?"

    "You f*cking stood me up—"

    "How did you remember where I lived?"

Perhaps it was your choice of words. He was always good at guessing what people meant from the words they use, it had always been a certain gift he carried with himself. However, Chuuya didn't care right then. The ire rendered him blind. He rushed to you and knocked the glass off your hands, having it spill all over the carpeted floor before grabbing your collar and pulling you close. He was seething but for some reason, just the sight of you—surprised and quite possibly drunk from the wine—burned down his ire as if it were embers sparking off a tree trunk on a rainy night. Your silky robe slid off his hands with ease as he let you go, before darting his gaze away from you.

    "Chuu—"

    "I don't f*cking understand it either, alright?" He said, eyes stuck to the spilled wine on the floor. "I don't understand what this is, I don't understand why I can't let it go. I've had sex with women whose names I don't even bother to remember, but I can't forget your stupid f*cking face, or your stupid f*cking smile or the way you annoy the crap out of me. I can't forget how you'd rather drink cheap wine at the store and drink the wine that I f*cking recommended to you in secret, so I know there's something there, alright?!"

    "Chuuya, I'm sorry—"

He looked at you with a deep frown, "What is it, then? Was the sex bad? Was it me—"

Your hands sprung to his face and it hit him again—the wave of deja vu—the feeling of your skin against his; it was intoxicating. He breathed in deeply, trying to recollect where he had smelt you before for it to have become so deeply rooted in his mind.

    "How is it..." You began to mutter something under your breath but Chuuya's hand lifted your chin and forced you to meet his gaze, "Chuuya, I... I'm sorry. It's not that. It's not any of that. You're amazing. You're... I love you."

His eyes widened. Words that he normally would have run away from suddenly felt like home—he swore he had heard them before. He had heard them, from you, a long time ago and the smell of it resonated with the way you carried yourself. Apricots and honey, a smell so utterly natural yet devastatingly intoxicating, Chuuya was certain that whatever it was had to be love; because if it wasn't, then he didn't know what love was. Moving in, Chuuya's lips captured your own, and your hands quickly reached his hair before pulling him closer as if your life depended on it. A lovely trick designed by nature, Chuuya used it to silence you from uttering words right then. There was no need for words when action spoke so loudly. It didn't take long for his hands to reach your neck, pasting your body to his; and for this to lead further to a place of no return. Not that you minded, of course.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. There was no long-forgotten feeling, there was no remnant that he desperately needed to remember—there was just you. You were breathing beside him, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, looking as peaceful as he had ever seen you; a sight he believed he had seen many times before. The intensity of which made him wonder if this was what people meant when they said soulmates existed; perhaps, he knew you in a past life, and had reunited with you in this one. Whatever it was, he felt content. His hand reached to brush a strand of stray hair off your cheek before noticing you inch closer toward him, blinding him with your scent again.

As established before, Chuuya was good at guessing what people meant by the choice of their words. He instantly remembered something odd that you had let loose the night before, something that made him wonder if there was a reason why he felt so intensely for you. Reaching forward and placing his hand at the back of your head, he pulled you to his neck, feeling your arms wrap around his naked chest. Chuuya's gaze fixed at the wall behind you before trying to decipher just what you had meant by 'How did you remember where I lived?'

A second later, you stirred before looking up at him and he cocked an eyebrow at your emotionless stare.

    "God help me..." You said, "You're so pretty."

    "Don't call me pretty." He argued, and you swore he could kill you with his morning voice and you'd be glad.

    "Hey," He began, clearing his throat, "What did you mean by... what you said yesterday?"

    "That I love you? Aw, Chuuya... Don't you know what that means?"

   "No, you idiot. You asked me how I remembered where you lived. Why would you ask me that unless I..." His eyes widened. "Unless I somehow forgot..."

    "Wrong choice of words, I guess. Forgive me, I was down three glasses of wine before you got here."

Chuuya laughed at your words right then before pulling you closer, feeling more content with your explanation than the gnawing suspicion that raged inside his brain. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love?

But then again, what didn't he?

*

Blissful days were cursed, or so he believed; Chuuya noticed how quickly they passed. He could, on some occasions, watch the days as they passed, exiting his body and seeing himself interact with the everydayness of things. The only thing that brought him life was to return home to you. Even with the ever-growing blissfulness, Chuuya didn't malinger. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that every word that exited your mouth was a red herring—something that you were deviating from a fact that he had missed. He hated feeling like he was missing an important detail, but each time you smiled at him or stole a kiss, Chuuya was taken back to the very moment he fell for you.

Suddenly, as if his mind was taking him somewhere else, he recalled something. He didn't know if it was entirely a made-up scenario or something that happened in a past life because if it happened in this one, he'd have remembered. He spotted you, stumbling in front of a broken wine bottle, the owner of the store screaming in your ear—and you were trying to sound convincing. Chuuya watched himself walk over to you, and turn to the owner of the store before quickly understanding what had happened. You had dropped an expensive bottle of wine, and you had no means to pay for it; it caused him to chuckle a tad bit before throwing some money (or more) at the owner, causing you to turn to him with wide eyes. "It's alright," he had said to you, "I've got money."

Chuuya watched as he walked away from you, but missed how you had removed one of your shoes and thrown it at the back of his head. He froze before turning to you with a deadly expression, but instantly blinked when he noticed how heavily you were blushing before thinking, 'Holy shit, she's cute,' before having you walk over to him and scream—

"What do you think you're doing, pretty face?"

Chuuya stared at you as you chopped onions without shedding a single tear; he had no clue how you had learned to art to do so, but boy, was he glad you knew how to cook. You reached forward before using your wrist to wipe off a tear from his eye, scrunching a bit before realizing the onions must have done it. You giggled before turning back to them, chopping them quietly. That wasn't it, Chuuya thought, narrowing his eyes. That wasn't how he met you. He met you at the bar, where he spotted you drinking cheap wine and he walked over to you and recommended something else. He didn't meet you in a wine store—he didn't have a shoe thrown at the back of his head. Yet... His hand reached the back of his head and his fingers grazed the area where the shoe supposedly landed, It feels like it actually happened.

He shook his head before entwining his hands around your waist, before kissing the back of your neck. He wasn't usually so affectionate, but you didn't mind. Every time Chuuya touched you, it left scorch marks that were welcome; it was passion breathing fire, reflecting the color of his hair, the aura of his heart.

    "What're you thinking?" You hummed, unaware of how intensely Chuuya was watching you.

    "Nothin'."

Blissful days were cursed, Chuuya knew this for a fact. He could watch happy days pass by with him barely breathing, existing, feeling; but the bad ones lasted ages. He remembered walking into his own home one day, drenched in blood, covered with soot and mud, the urge to feel human contact was strong just then. He knew he could call you, he knew that he could rely on you especially since you had said the words 'I love you' to him over and over again, despite him having not said it in return. He wondered if that bothered you, he wondered if that made you want to leave him but you made no sign so far that you were displeased. He watched you like a hawk, after all, with that growing suspicion that drowned him on nights like these. He rang you in a moment, before feeling the phone vibrate next to his ear, his eyes ghosting on a dark patch in front of him. He needed your hands, your body, the smell of your hair; he needed the familiar apricot and honey to cover his nostrils whole. He needed you, just before asking you why you lied.

    "Chuuya? It's 4 a.m., what's—"

    "I need to see you."

You were quiet on the other end, wondering if he had figured it out. He must've, you thought, a bitter smile formed on your lips.

    "I'll be there in—"

    "No," He wasn't going to risk it, "I'm coming to you."

*

Your eyes glanced all over Chuuya's bloodied appearance before hearing the sound of your heart break—it was a soft sound, like a twig snapping under the weight of a stone. Your heart fell as he gave you his hat and removed his coat before you threw it into the wash. You led him to the bathroom, having him strip, and let him sit aside while you filled the tub. You knew he was watching you, you knew he was going to tell you the very same thing he had always told you.

    "We need to stop this."

You didn't know why, but you laughed. Every single time that it had happened before, you had cried and asked him for an explanation, or even threw things at him—but this time, you laughed. This time, you desperately tried being away from him until he magically appeared at your home, shocking you to your very core at how your powers were slowly slipping off of him. You turned to spot Chuuya's eyes fixed at your form before a nasty frown formed on his face. You touched his cheek before whispering, "The bath's ready."

He sat in the water before letting out a groan, indicating that this was what he needed before he could reprimand you and leave you once again. However, just as you were about to leave, his hand gripped your wrist, another action that shocked you, and he stared at you.

    "Wash my hair."

You nodded wordlessly before following through with it, wondering where this was going. All the other times, Chuuya would leave instantly after saying those words. All the other times, he'd ensure that he wouldn't see you for another month or so—before realizing that he had never met you. You weren't a cruel person, you were just desperately in love, having uncovered an ability that you thought could save you from torment. Yet, it presented more than it took away. One of the things you admired most about Chuuya was his hair, of how soft and luscious it was despite it being coated with blood on many days. You admired how well he took care of himself on the days that he could, and how he'd managed to put on that responsibility to you as well. You only began taking care of yourself because of him; and in a way, he had saved you.

    "I..." Here it comes. "I didn't meet you for the first time at the bar, did I?"

You were quiet. But, silence at an occasion such as this was admittance.

    "I've met you for the first time an exact three times. When you broke the wine bottle, and when you were scrambling around during a case, that's when I learned you were a journalist. And then... And then the bar,"

You didn't answer.

    "I was chasing this guy, this..." He leaned his head over and sighed, "...this guy who ran off from the Port Mafia with some documents or some shit. He... He found you, and I... I thought I lost you," You couldn't tell if he was angry or just overwhelmed, "That's when I left you for the first time."

    "Chuuya..."

    "I left you one more time after. I can't remember everything..." His eyes met yours, steady and intense, "...and that's thanks to you, isn't it?"

    "Chuuya, I—"

    "You have an ability," He said, finally, "An ability to make people forget you."

You sat there, behind him, with your hands sunken in his locks. Your heart was rummaging against your chest and you bit your lip enough to draw blood; if he asked you why what could you say? Was there even a reason why you did what you did? Despite having him forget you for a total of three times, he had somehow magically returned, somehow asking for more and staying longer than he did before. It was almost a curse than anything else. The more you used your ability on someone, the less of an effect it would have each time. It was only a matter of time Chuuya figured things out. And now he had.

After the bath, he silently wore a change of clothes that you surprisingly had. He wanted to ask if this was from the first or second time he had met you, but he didn't. He turned to spot you standing a few feet away, before meeting his gaze.

    "You did that for me, didn't you?" He was expressionless. To see Chuuya this way broke your heart. "So that it doesn't bother me."

    "Also because I genuinely wanted you to stay away from me." You let out a laugh.

    "I didn't f*cking stay away, did I?" He demanded, taking a step toward you, "No matter what stupid trick you used, I kept coming back!"

    "You were the one who left first." You snapped, gritting your teeth.

Chuuya bit back his words for a moment before turning away. This action always melted your heart, when Chuuya turned away from you because you had stolen his words away.

    "Things are different now, aren't they?"

    "Yeah," They were different. He didn't leave. "Yeah, they are."

Silence followed a deep revelation such as this. His eyes didn't leave yours and you stared right back—it almost reminded him of the shoe-throwing incident. He chuckled before earning a frown from you.

    "For being played around like that, I should be the one glaring at you." He scoffed.

    "Chuuya, I love you."

It was at that second he remembered something. He believed you'd leave him because he hadn't told you he loves you or even bothered to say it back even when you had said it multiple times before already. However, at that second, he remembered that the first person to say those words between the two of you was Chuuya himself. I'm not going to leave, he thought before letting out a breath. He kissed the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist.

    "Don't f*cking do that again." He scolded you.

    "I could have stayed away from you each time, but you're like... a disease." You laugh.

He rolled his eyes before raising his voice, "Who're you callin' a disease?! If anything, you're a goddamn manipulator. F*cking stupid."

He rested his head on your shoulder before smelling the apricot and honey attached to your skin. It was just as intoxicating as the first time.

    "I ain't leaving so..." His voice was muffled with how his mouth was pressed to your shoulder, "...I love you too."

[briswriting]

『 tamaki captures a picture perfect moment with you in a field of autumn leaves 』

pairing: tamaki amajiki x gn!reader genre: fluff wc: 1701

a/n: ahhh another collab! this is for the attack on academia server! a whole bunch of other amazing writers are participating so go check them out too yay!!! also this is my first tamaki fic i love him with my whole heart but i'm so sorry if i wrote him ooc ajsdhfgjkdsflks also thank you @leiasfanaccount648​ for giving me a plot idea because my brain rn is not big ahahahaha collab masterlist here!!! 

Tamaki Amajiki was socially awkward, everyone knew that, it was no surprise to see him hiding his face away whenever his anxiety spiked and he grew nervous. Yet here you were, the two of you alone, walking side by side as a gentle autumn breeze swept around you, the both of you one your way to the nearest pumpkin patch. A small content smile on his face as he listened to you ramble about your week, the anxious jitters in his body calming down with just the delightful sound of your voice.

Maybe it was the way you looked absolutely radiant in the soft glow of the sunlight, but Tamaki couldn't help the way the usual tension in his body, whenever he was around others, seemed to be at ease when he was with you. Everything but the beating of his heart, which happened to beat a little faster than average every time he caught a glimpse of you.

He wondered if his presence made you feel the same way; wondered if your heart went sporadic every time you saw him or if your breath got caught in your throat when you saw him smile just like his does.

He knew the two of you were just friends, never really showing you any way to indicate that he held feelings for you that were not platonic but deep down he hoped that maybe, just maybe you felt the same way he felt. Little did he know, you did harbor feelings for him that were romantic, that’s why you were rambling to him about your week after he politely asked you how you have been. Words flying out of your mouth because his mere presence made you want to run a mile, your heart going ten times the speed it should be; causing your brain to short circuit and not make your mouth shut at a simple I’ve been well, how have you been.

“Thanks again for coming with me. I know it’s the weekend and you probably had plans but I appreciate it, even if Nejire probably is the one who made you come along.” You smile at him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeves as you look at him.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing Y/N, I came because I wanted to,” he whispers out.

What he tells you isn’t completely a lie, but it also isn’t the full truth. He did want to accompany you to the local pumpkin patch after Nejire had told him that you wanted someone to help you take pictures there, but he was quick to say no after learning that it was going to be just the two of you, alone. But with a lot of pushing from his two very insisting friends, he had agreed to go, thinking of all the possible scenarios that could happen while the two of you were alone.

“I didn’t know you were the one who took all of Nejire’s photos that she posts! They’re really good, I can’t believe you just take them off your phone,” you compliment him, a blush rising to his cheeks at your praise.

“I-It’s nothing really. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time,” he stammers out. “They only look good because it’s Nejire in the photos.” He quickly tries to dismiss your appreciation for his photos, not wanting to combust then and there if you try to compliment him even more.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, everyone knows that! But I think most of the skills come from the one behind the camera otherwise she wouldn’t have any pictures,” you point out to him as he becomes a blushy mess beside you. “You’ll make me look pretty right?” You jokingly ask, a quiet giggle following your words. It took everything within Tamaki to not outright tell you the truth; that you didn’t need some pictures to make you look pretty, you already were in his eyes.

The pumpkin patch, thankfully, was not that busy, making it perfect for taking pictures among the red, orange, and yellows without pesky photobombers in the background.

“So how do you normally take pictures with Nejire? Do you usually, like, tell her what to do?” You ask Tamaki as the two of you walk around trying to find somewhere to start.

“Oh, umm usually I just follow her directions because she knows what to do. I just snap pictures whenever she tells me to,” he quickly replies. His words from earlier proven true as he nervously looks around the field, eyes scanning everywhere but towards your direction as thoughts flooded his mind. Thoughts that you were disappointed that he didn’t know what he was doing, thoughts of regret that you asked him to come along and not someone else.

From his body language, you can quickly tell that he was getting anxious, thoughts of having to tell you what to do even though he himself had no idea as to what he was doing. Softly you place a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. “Hey, it’s okay. Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves and whenever you think the timing is right you can snap a picture? I always liked the more natural and candid photos,” you smile at him, trying your best to ease his nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s a good idea,” he agrees quickly, the tension in his body calming down at the sight of your smile and calming words.

So with that, the two of you set off to enjoy what the pumpkin patch had to provide for its visitors, spending hours enjoying each other’s presence, not even realizing that every time you weren’t paying attention to him, Tamaki snapped a quick picture.

As the sun started to set, basking the field in a warm golden glow, the two of you ended your little expedition with a cup of fresh apple cider. A breeze picked up as the sunlight disappeared, sending a chill through your body as you sat next to Tamaki on a park bench. The two of you silently enjoying the sweet golden liquid that pleasantly warmed up your body.

“Want to see the pictures I took?” Tamaki asked, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded the two of you.

You had stared at him for a few moments, confused by what he asked before your brain quickly remembered the reason that the two of you were here. Having so much fun with him, you had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be taking pictures of you. You quickly nodded at him before scooting yourself closer to him, peering at his phone screen. Your focus was so directed to his screen that you missed the way his body stilled beside you, his hands slightly trembling as you sat close enough for your leg to be touching his.

“Wow,” you breathed out. “These are really good Tamaki! I didn’t even notice you taking these pictures! You have a real knack for knowing the perfect moment to take them. I can’t choose my favorite one because they’re all so good!” You beamed up at him, averting your gaze from his phone to his face, his breath hitching in his throat at not only the close proximity but your dazzling smile that you were sending his way.

“It’s nothing really. It was easy to just snap them whenever you weren’t paying attention,” he whispered. Because you look beautiful all the time, he silently thinks to himself.

But he hadn’t said that last part in his head like he thought he did, because he quickly noticed the stillness of your form next to him. He mentally scolded  himself for saying something so stupid out loud before trying to stutter out an explanation.

“D-Do you really mean that Tamaki?” You quietly asked, eyes focused on your lap as you fiddled with your fingers.

Of course he meant it. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’s ever known and today just confirmed it even more. The way your eyes sparkled with joy when you were talking to him about the things you were passionate about, the way your smile that reached your eyes seemed to warm his heart, the way you didn’t even have to try for him to feel like putty in your hands.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “I mean it. I, umm, have liked you for a while; but if you don’t feel the same way obviously that’s okay. We can just pretend that slip up never happened and if you want we don’t have to be friends anymore. I know it was a weird thing to say, we aren’t even that close, you probably think I’m weir-”

You quickly cut off his rambling by grabbing his trembling hands and entwining your fingers with his, your thumbs softly grazing over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe his anxiety after his little slip up.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tamaki. Calm down.” Your soothing voice calmed down his overworking mind. “I like you too if that helps,” you giggle out. Of course, your confession didn’t help, it just made his brain go even more haywire than it already was.

He sat there silently, gawking at your entwined hands as his mind was still trying to wrap around the idea that you liked him back. But once he was able to process your words, his body seemed to relax as he slumped over and placed his forehead on your shoulder, hiding his blushing face away from you.

“Oh that’s good,” he had barely whispered out, sighing contently to himself as you let out another laugh at his words. Lifting his head off of your shoulder, he looked at you for the first time since his confession, the way your face adorned a soft smile set his heart ablaze.

He took a mental image of the way you looked at him with admiration. Admiration for him, and only him. As the two of you sat side by side in the quiet field, the only sound heard was that of your quiet breaths and the soft beating of your hearts for one another. A picture perfect moment indeed.

[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 1: 1971

Kane's steadiest relationship through his life was always to the stars

(This fic is 4 chapters, inspired by this fic by @old-no7, approximately 5000 words and written in a 24-hour binge. It'll eventually also be posted to AO3, but I'm sleepy rn, so not right now)

He’d been waiting for that night for two weeks. Marking the days off on a little scrap of paper his brother had written up for him. 14 little boxes to put an X through when he woke up every morning. His brother had been forbidden from partaking in their little ritual until after he finished writing his chemistry test and Kane knew better to stay outside alone. So he waited and he helped his brother study. In later years, when they recollected those weeks, his brother would admit that if anything, even less studying had been done when Kane was insisting to help. He tried to quiz his brother on vocabulary, which might have been helpful if Kane could read the terms or the definitions. Or knew what exactly chemistry was. But his brother appreciated the effort.

Kane had spent almost the entire day of the test in the window of the parlor, kneeling on the itchy red couch. It was a nice enough couch when they had funerals happening, since those were the days Kane had to wear long pants, but the rest of the time, when he was in shorts, the fabric itched his legs, so he didn’t like the couch much. But he put up with it that day. Mother wouldn’t let him move any of the furniture or sit on the windowsill, so he put up with the itch.

Mother said his brother would return when the old grandfather clock rang exactly four times. Kane considered himself a good counter. He could make it as far as twenty without any help, since that was how many fingers and toes he had, but he had trouble remembering what came after. It didn’t matter that day anyway. The grandfather clock never rang more than twelve times (that was all fingers and two toes) and was on eight rings by the time Kane was woken up and told to get ready for the day.

Making sure he counted each and every ring was hard work. By the time he’d counted four and not a single one more, he was almost too sleepy to figure out right away that it meant his brother would be walking up the lane any second. The only way he did figure it out was by seeing the long black coat of his brother blowing gently through the wind at the bottom of the hill. He was off the itchy red couch and out the front door before he even had time to yell to his mother where he was going.

His brother was far more focused on keeping his hat from blowing away in the wind to see Kane coming at him like a bat out of hell. He only just grabbed onto it as Kane captured him in a tight hug around his middle.

“You wrote your test today, right? So tonight we can sleep outside?” Kane asked, already knowing the answers, but just wanting finalised confirmation. His brother blew some curly red strands out of his eyes.

“Yes, Kane, I did do well on my test. Thank you for asking so politely,” he chuckled as he squirmed out of the hug. Kane huffed his annoyance quietly.

“Sorry. We’re still sleeping outside tonight, right?”

“We can head out as soon as we trade my bookbag for the tent inside.”

The next couple minutes were a battle of the brothers as Kane tried to drag his brother up the hill to the house as fast as possible and his brother trying to hold Kane back, just to wind him up for his own amusement. Eventually, even his brother couldn’t hide his excitement for the evening anymore.

It was the first year where their father was letting them go out by themselves. They’d each gotten training to defend themselves against some of the more common beasts of the Valley. Kane was trusted with a hunting knife after proving himself capable enough of getting a good shot in while also understanding the dangers the knife could possess. His brother, being older, had already been taken hunting twice. He didn’t like killing things, but their father was confident that if push came to shove, he could bring himself to kill pretty much anything in the name of keeping Kane safe.

After kissing their mother goodbye for the evening and receiving a final quick quiz on what to do and what not to do when faced with danger from their father, each boy picked up their packs and started on the trail into the woods. Kane had both the food and his sleeping bag slung over his shoulders, and if it had been any other night, he would have probably begun complaining from the weight. Sandwiches had never seemed so heavy before, or maybe his brother was just taking them to a place really far away. They did most of their exploring together, but Kane knew there were some places he’d never been before. Either because they were too far away for his little legs to walk to or because they involved crossing the river and his brother hadn’t been quite tall enough to lift Kane over the water yet. Wet feet was one of their first warnings: if they couldn’t cross the river with dry feet when safe, they wouldn’t be able to make it across if they ever faced danger.

“Are we going to the river?” Kane eventually piped up, hoping to disguise the ache in his shoulders and his feet.

“What?”

“The river. Are we crossing it?”

“Maybe when you’re bigger. Not today.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Somewhere special.”

“How special?”

“Kane, do you ever stop talking?”

By the time they stopped bickering, Kane realized they hadn’t been walking for likely a minute or more. They were in a small clearing of grass and a few rocks scattered around. Surrounded by trees on all sides, but there was still a patch of sky overhead.

“Do you know how to set up the tent by yourself?” His brother asked, shaking Kane from his admirings of their location.

“No, but I can put together the poles,” he offered. He was good at poles. Just wasn’t tall enough to put up the tent with them, but he’d never say so out loud.

“Do that. I want to gather some firewood while it’s still light out. Have your knife on you?” Kane pulled out the hunting knife from the leather case their mother had made and showed it off proudly. “Good. Don’t lose it. I’m not going far, but just in case-”

“Can’t I come with you? I wanna get some firewood too.”

“What for?”

“So I can have my own fire.”

“You can light the big one. We need the tent up before it gets dark. It’ll be faster if we each do one chore.”

Kane nodded and tried his best not to pout. He’d wanted his own fire to play with, but if his brother was letting him set the big one, that would be okay too. Besides, putting up the tent was an important job. Being trusted to assemble the poles properly was more than he usually did on these trips. But with only two of them going, there’d be lots more work for each of them. As his brother set out to find the firewood, Kane decided that not only would he assemble the poles, he’d even find the right place for each of them to slide into the tent fabric. Then all that would have to be done was push it up and stake it down. Easy-peasy.

He was sliding in the last pole when he heard the tell-tale dropping of firewood behind him and jumped up.

“Tent’s ready to be put up,” he explained proudly. His brother lifted an eyebrow uncertainly.

“You sure you’ve got them in the right spots?”

“Yup!”

“Positive?”

“Yes!”

“And if we try to put it up and they’re not?”

“They will be!”

To Kane’s credit, they were, surprisingly, all absolutely correct. The tent went up in no time at all. With an overexcited use of matches and dry wood, the fire was almost faster. By the time the sun was down over the Valley and the night air quietly screeched with the calls of bugs and other assorted beasts, both boys were picking at their ham sandwiches and lying back in the grass to look upwards.

“Tell me a story,” Kane quietly requested, as if he didn’t want to disturb the world around them.

“A story?”

“Yeah, like Father does every year. About the stars.”

“You mean the constellations?” He chuckled a little and pushed some hair out of his face. “Kane, my brain’s so full of chemistry right now, I hardly remembered the way here.”

“C’mon!” It was tradition. A story by the fireside. He wasn’t letting his brother get off that easy with such a lame excuse.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come up with something.” He went quiet for a few moments before lifting one of his arms to the heavens. “You see that star there?”

“Which one?”

“The big one.”

“They’re all big. Father says they’re as big as the sun.”

“Okay, the one that looks bigger because it's the closest.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That one’s me.”

“How come you get to be a star?”

“You’re a star too, Kane. See the reddish-looking one?”

“Right beside the big one?”

“Exactly. Stars are born and they die all the time.”

“Just like people.”

“Right, just like people. When we die, those stars are going to disappear.”

“Are they brothers too?”

“Of course. Stars can be brothers just like people.”

“Do they get along?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes they fight and they don’t look like they’re as close together, but they always make up. Always.”

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

*

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

*

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

*

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

*

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Painted Windows 14

Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts; violence; trauma; allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, and torture; blood.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go exploring but go a little too far.

Note: I’m at a bit of an impasse rn. I can’t finish any updates for my ongoing series and I’m torn between working on two new ones and I’m just a mess. Sorry.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

You waited at the front door with Steve. You were anxious. To be outside. To be with the man who made you feel curious things. To be with another who made you feel terrifying things. 

You swayed back and forth nervously and listened to Bucky’s footsteps grow nearer. He handed you a denim jacket lined with fleece. It was your size. You took it with a quiet thank you as he placed two pink boots by your feet; a much girlier version of the standard work boot. You pulled on the coat and knelt to tie your boots. 

As you kicked out your other foot, you bared the thick tights Bucky had ordered you wear beneath the dress. He cleared his throat and you fixed the skirt as you stood.

He nodded to Steve who opened the door and preceded you out. Bucky followed closely and caught your arm before you could catch up to the other man. You stared at the basket in Steve’s hand and let the other man cling to you. He took your hand in his and squeezed it as your eyes flicked up to the sky.

“It’s so…” You gazed at the clouds as he led you down the steps. “Beautiful.”

Bucky grumbled and continued on behind Steve who stopped at the front corner of the house. He continued on as Bucky gestured towards the shed and you blinked as you came in sight of the line of trees. Steve was barely fazed as he followed the same steps you’d taken only days before.

You stopped as you reached the row of trunks and you reached out to touch one. Bucky tugged on you but not much as you flaked away a patch of bark. You rubbed it in your fingers and carried on. Your stomach began to dance. 

What if he did know? What if this was some trick?

You heard the river and your heart clenched. You couldn’t let him see. You carried on to a small clearing by the river bed. You didn’t want to go any further. Just over there was where you’d run. Just beyond was where you were tackled into the dirt. Where you’d kissed him. You relished his soft lips in your memory but turned away.

“I’d like to eat by the water,” You said. “If that’s… okay?”

“Alright,” Bucky released you hesitantly as you reached for the blanket folded over the basket in Steve’s grasp. 

Snow remained in heaps under the bigger trees but much of it had melted. The mud was dry enough that it didn’t suck at your boots and would ruin the flannel. You laid it out and smiled. It was such a simple act. A pleasant little scene amidst a script of pitfalls. Steve put the basket down on the corner and you sat as you began to unpack.

Steve sat first. He was big enough that it was awkward for him to cross his legs. Bucky toed the edge of the river and stared into the shallow ripples. He turned back and resigned himself to the corner nearest you. His hand strayed to your ankle as he settled onto the ground and he squeezed. He glanced at Steve and drew away quickly.

You offered Steve a sandwich and then Bucky. They accepted and you ate quietly as the river trickled. Your eyes flew up as a bird did and then you stared particularly long at a leaf. Wet and torn. Even the dirt was entrancing. 

Finished, you dusted off your hands and stood. Bucky caught your wrist. You stopped, stooped slightly and looked at him. He frowned. 

“What--” He growled.

“I want to see the river,” You said as you touched his metal hand gently, as if it was truly his. “Maybe I’ll see the true me staring back for once.”

His brow wrinkled but he let you go. You felt his eyes follow you as you went to the river and knelt down, the tail of your skirt brushed in the dirt as you took a stick and ran it back and forth over the surface of the water. You spun it until a little whirlpool formed and you withdrew it as you watched the storm peter out.

Your eyes were teary and your cheeks damp. You looked up at the looming woodland watchers. The crooked branches and shrouded brush. You could hear laughter, footsteps. You were running behind a girl. She looked like you but younger. Much younger. And then she was gone and your fingers were cold as they dangled in the water.

You pulled them back and wiped them on your jacket. You bowed your head and covered your eyes as the sob forced its way out. You sniffed and choked it down as you sensed movement behind you. You stood and turned back to the men. Steve remained as he was as Bucky stood tentatively on his feet.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“Fine.” You went back to the blanket and lowered yourself to the ground. “I think you were right. It’s too much.” You folded your arms over your knees and rested your chin atop them. “I’m weak. Scared.”

“You’re healing,” Steve offered.

“She--” Bucky stopped himself. “She’ll be fine.” He turned and tramped close to the trees. “I gotta… go.”

There was a silence and then you giggled as you realised what he meant. He turned back halfway and glared at you.

“Must be the river,” Steve kidded. “It’s even making me a bit antsy.”

“Watch her,” Bucky bid and disappeared into the trees.

You waited until his steps faded away. You looked at Steve and bit your lip.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked.

“I didn’t tell him,” He swore. “I put the coat back and the boots.”

“Steve.” You said softly. “Why--” 

You were quiet as you shrugged away your thoughts and peered over his shoulder.

“Why what, Dor?” He asked.

“Why are you letting him keep me?” You whispered.

He sighed and tilted his head. He peeked at the trees and reached out to touch your cheek.

“He’s helping you. Keeping you safe.” He caressed your cheek. “Isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “I…”

“And where would you if he just let you go?” He asked.

“With you.” You said plainly. “Aren’t we friends?”

Steve shook his head and drew away. He inhaled and cleared his throat as he heard Bucky’s boots in the brush. He sat back and gave a sullen smile.

“I guess the bears are still hibernating,” Steve called over as Bucky appeared. “Or maybe you’ve scared them all away.”

Bucky’s brows raised but he was barely amused. He crossed to you and bent. He tugged the blanket harshly and jolted both you and Steve.

“We should go.” He said tersely. “We’ve been out here long enough.”

“But--” You began and his sharp look quieted you.

Steve stood and helped you up. Bucky bundled the blanket messily over the basket and picked it up.

“Yeah, I guess I should head back to the city,” Steve tucked his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh,” You looked down glumly. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be back soon.” He said. “Right, Buck?”

“Maybe,” Bucky grabbed your arm and turned you away from the river. “I’ve got a lot going on. We have a lot going on.”

You watched Steve drive away before Bucky ushered you inside. He dropped the basket carelessly inside the door and waited for you to shed the jacket and boots. He hung the former and kicked the latter aside. His own were added to the rack and mat in turn. He pointed you up the stairs. You were suddenly very nervous. 

That morning, he had been loving, if a little forceful. But his demeanour had turned so quickly. Once Steve appeared he had become the cold and distant keeper. The sun only seemed to cook up his paranoia.

 You dragged your feet to the stairs and he followed you up. He was close as you got to the top and he grabbed your shoulders as he pressed himself against you.

He turned you and walked you down the hall. He directed you into the room; your room, and the door locked behind him. Like it always did. His hands squeezed your shoulders and he hummed as he urged you further in. Then, he suddenly shoved you and you stumbled. You fell onto one knee and gasped.

You tried to stand and he caught the back of your neck and held you down. You were forced to drop your other knee as you fell forward onto your hands.

“Bucky,” You gulped as your arms shook against his strength.

“I saw it. The footprints. His, yours. It’s not difficult to connect the pieces. The little tussle you had in the dirt.” He forced you down onto your stomach. “You ran. Worse, you kept a secret from me.” He scoffed and leaned over you to hiss in your ear. “Even worse than that, you had him lie for you. To me.” 

He pushed your head down and you turned so that your cheek was flush to the floor.

“I didn’t--” You uttered. “Bucky, please. It was his idea. He wanted me to go for a walk and I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t.” He kept you there, pinned. He straddled you between his thick thighs. “Oh, you must’ve had fun laughing at me today. So stupid. So clueless.”

“No, it’s not-- I was only scared. Without you.” You reached back and touched his hand. The metal cold and numb. “I didn’t-- Not today. I didn’t run.”

“And that means…?” He spread himself over your, his knees just beside your thigh. His other hand tugged at your dress as his metal arm stretched over your shoulders. “I’ve been so nice to you. So patient. And you lie to me. Over and over.”

“Please, don’t…” You begged as you clawed at the floor. “This isn’t you. It’s not. I know, Bucky, I know. It’s me Dora. Your sugar. And you will fight it.” You croaked. “Fight the soldier, Bucky. Protect me. Please. You said you’d keep me safe.”

He stopped. He was still as his heavy breath glossed over the back of your head. Slowly, he lifted himself off of you. You carefully pushed your arms beneath you and got up to your knees. You were heaved to your feet suddenly and he tossed you against the bed. You fell onto the mattress and he was quick to seize you again. 

He dragged you up and had you on your back. He straddled you again and his hand pinned your chest. You slapped at him as he worked at his belt and ripped it free of the loops. You cried out, begging him to stop. His eyes were dark. It wasn’t Bucky. 

He wrapped the leather around your neck and tightened it. He wound the other end to the bedpost and knotted it. He backed off of you and slipped his hands beneath your skirt. He tore the tights from your legs as you struggled between him and the belt. He turned you and tied your hands behind you with the tights and let you fall back onto them.

He threw your skirt up and reached to his ankle. There was a sheath hidden there and he withdrew a knife. His jaw was set, his eyes were stone.

“I know you’re in there, Bucky. I know.” You cried. “Please, please, don’t hurt me. I’m your sugar. Your Dora.”

“This is what you like,” His voice was gravelly, distorted almost. “The pain. It’s the only thing you understand.”

He pressed the knife to your thigh and you screamed as he sliced your flesh. He grabbed your leg and squeezed.

“If you don’t stay still, it will be worse.” 

It felt as if he would break your kneecap. You sobbed as he continued to cut, drawing deliberate lines along your thigh. 

“Longing,” Slice. “Rusted,” Slice. His voice rose louder and louder. The words were garbled through your anguish.  “Seventeen,” On and On. “Daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car.”

When he stopped, the warm blood caused the cuts to throb and burn. He held up the knife and showed you its red edge. You could barely see past your tears. He stared at the silver and wiped it on his jeans. He replaced it in his sheath and backed away. 

He climbed off the bed and watched you. He closed his eyes and lowered his face. He twitched and turned away. His hand, his real hand, shook. He went to the door and paused as he grasped the handle.

“Stay as you are,” He snarled. “Be a good girl and it won’t hurt.”

[wreathedinscales]

Din parenting Ben Solo has become one of my main vibes rn

()

"Ben?"

The voice doesn't stop the earthquake, but Ben can take a few more steps before collapsing on his knees.

"Ben." Urgent. Ben doesn't want to know what he looks like right now.

"Din," he murmurs. Everything feels so. He doesn't really know. But it hurts. "Din...I need...I need help."

Din's projection blurs as he presumably sets a course. "I'm on my way. Are you in a safe place? Where's Grogu?"

The thing that hurts gushes like an open wound. "Grogu?" he growls, "Always Grogu first, always. This was a mistake."

"Grogu is also my foundling. I can ask after both of you."

Ben raises his fist to smash the commlink. Din's shouting his name doesn't freeze him. But he does stop, arm shaking. Everything shaking. Everything hurting.

He lowers the commlink slowly, whispering, "Also?"

Din's holographic fists flex around the throttle.

"What does that mean?" No answer. Louder, harsher, Ben demands, "What does that mean?"

"You've told me time and again I'm not your father," Din replies with forced steadiness. "I'm not."

"You said it," Ben hisses. "Also. Both. Answer my question!"

"I care for you as one," Din blurts. "You know I do, Ben. That's why you keep telling me I'm not Solo."

No, he isn't Han Solo.

"It was a slip-up," Din says, "I'm about to jump. I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe."

He disappears, leaving the earthquake to shatter Ben's lungs.

()

Objectively, Ben knows Han Solo is not a bad father. The man has always been there on the rare occasions Ben calls. He jokes around with him, teaches him the inner workings of the Falcon. Awkward for emotional talks, but he never backs down from them even when he says You should probably ask your mother.

Ben doesn't know why they drifted apart, but he knows it's not really because of Solo. He just...doesn't feel the way a son should feel when he sees him. Not like when his mother sweeps into a room. For some reason, Ben feels little fraternal attachment.

His father has noticed of course. It's hard not to, especially when Han knows when he's not wanted. Force knows he keeps trying. Still, Ben can feels his relief in when Luke and Leia present the idea of Luke's school to his son.

Din Djarin is...different.

Some of the children still have parents. Grogu blasts his love for his "buir" in the Force whenever someone even hints at their own. It's nothing Ben hasn't heard before. Yet when the Mandalorian visits, that feeling Solo never inspired ignites in Ben's chest.

There's no logic in it. Yet Ben never says You're not my father when Din offers a portion of his food or gently corrects his stance. He always says You're not Solo.

Huddled behind a thick tree, Ben realizes the difference. Realizes he hadn't even thought to call his parents as he ran. The Dark calls to him, and it's so tempting, but he still waits for Din Djarin.

He tucks his head between his legs and grips his hair. His lightsaber feels heavy at his hip. It's starting to weep with him, kyber threatening to bleed.

He doesn't move. He will not move.

()

FEARFEARRELIEF

"Ah!"

Ben leaps away, crawling on his back. Grogu collides with his knee. His big eyes are wet. Ben can barely see him.

He wants to scream at the gremlin. If he's found him, he'll shout and—

"Ben!"

At first, Ben scrambles to his feet, about to run. But that's not his—not Master Skywalker.

Din slides across the dirt as Ben falls back down, switching off his helmet light so he doesn't blind him. His gloves grip Ben's shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

How long has Ben been hiding? Was Din far away? His rust-bucket of a ship might be overheating. Ben hears Solo's lecture. Distant. Not as real as Din cupping his face and shaking him.

"I don't know what to do," Ben croaks. "He's calling me. I want to answer. And you came."

"Who's calling you?" Din demands.

"Snoak. He's—he's going to be my new Master." Ben's fingers touch his saber. "It's bleeding."

Din pats him down. "What is?"

Ben presents his lightsaber and ignites it. Din recoils out of the way. His blade is not longer pure blue. Red seethes from the hilt, spreading like watercolors to the tip of the blade.

"...okay." Din carefully touches Ben's thumb, deactivating the saber. "What happened?"

He doesn't sound scared or disgusted. His hands don't shake when they return to Ben's shoulders. Not like Grogu, who is cowering in Din's cape and whimpering. Ben imagines choking him. He's never really done that before. It feels good. Powerful.

He gasps loudly as cold beskar slams into him.

"Stay with me, kid."

Din is hugging him. Does he know?

"I'm Falling," Ben rasps, "I'm Falling, and you can't stop it."

"Okay," Din repeats.

"They won't think so." Ben's eyes wander back to Grogu. It's a little hard now, with Din holding him so tightly. "I can feel your precious son's neck snapping in my hands."

Din finally tenses. Grogu muffles his sobs against his father's hip.

"Why do you want to kill him?" Din asks quietly.

"He's annoying me."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"Why not? I'm more powerful than him. I can do it."

Din pulls back. He pulls back and—honestly, Ben is bracing for the punch. Maybe a knife.

Din yanks off his helmet.

He's old. Maybe Skywalker's age, maybe a bit older. He has a mustache. He has brown eyes. There is tension in his face. Without the beskar, Ben can really sense him. He is scared. He is worried. He is protective.

"Look at me," he tells Ben. "Listen. You are not a killer. Don't," he orders over Ben's opening mouth, "say I don't know anything about you. You know that's not true." He cups Ben's face again. "You are terrified, and that makes you desperate. Desperate beings can be driven to anything. It doesn't matter if you wield your powers or not." He leans close. "Whatever so-called Master is talking to you has been waiting for this. He wants you to think you have no choice. But what did you do?"

Ben is breathing. Really breathing. "I called you."

Din nods. "And are you choking Grogu?"

"...no."

Another nod. "I won't stop you from making your choice. But don't let yourself be cornered."

Ben trembles. He is breathing and he is trembling. He is crying. He is Falling. He is being held.

"He tried to kill me," Ben sobs, "I don't know what to do. I can't go back. I can't."

Din's expression hardens. "Who tried to kill you?"

"Skywalker," Ben spits, "He was afraid of me! Afraid of what I can become without him!"

The Force thickens around Din. He is no longer afraid. He is angry—angrier than Ben.

The Mandalorian puts on his helmet and stands. He picks up Grogu and holds out his hand. Ben takes it.

"Stay behind me."

()

Ben shudders when he sees Skywalker. Din's hovering arm feels like a wall between them. By rights, it shouldn't feel safe.

"What did you do?!" Din roars. Violent vindication sweeps through Ben as Skywalker curls into himself. "You try to kill one of your own? Someone you swore to protect?"

Fearfearfear whimpers from Grogu. Fearfearmasterskywalkertherearetoomanyofthem—Ben stifles his vomit. No one's told him—no one ever talks about Va—

The other students emerge from their beds. They huddle like mice as Din unholsters his blaster.

"You have no right to call yourself a teacher," Din snarls, "No right to call yourself Jedi."

Oh, it feels good to see Skywalker like this. Broken. How does it feel?

"Put down your weapon," Din orders.

"Din—"

"Luke, don't. Put it down."

Skywalker puts it down.

"I'm calling Marshal Dune. The second she touches ground, I'm taking Ben. Until then, if you even look at him wrong, I will not hesitate."

The children gasp and whimper, looking between him and Skywalker.

"I don't know what happened," Skywalker mumbles, "Din, I would never—"

"Clearly you would."

Skywalker doesn't sit so much as collapse. He bows his head and says nothing more.

()

Ben curls in Din's bunk on the rust-bucket ship, Din standing nearby. It's not overheating after all.

"Let me guess," he says, "I'm not allowed to leave."

To his surprise, Din says, "You can. But I'll be following you."

"Because I'm a threat?"

"Because your own family just tried to kill you, and I don't want him near you, even disarmed." Ben feels his gaze. "I'm going to protect you, kid. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Ben snaps.

Din squeezes his leg. Ben squeezes his eyes shut.

"...I don't want to see them. My parents."

"You'll have to eventually. They'll be worried."

"Will they? I told you, I Fell. I'm everything they've sworn to destroy."

"If they really are your parents, they won't care how far you've gone."

"Are you saying you don't, with your little Jedi?"

"I care about you and your actions. Not some half-dead traditions that say a child should die."

"I am not a child."

"A teenager is still a child to me." Din sighs. "Ben. I'm not scared of you. I don't think you're a monster. I think you're the snarky kid who sneaks cookies to the young ones and keeps using your magic to lift me up while I'm trying to have a conversation."

Ben sits up. Din does nothing. No defensive stance, no reaching for his weapon. When Ben charges him, he merely opens his arms to catch him.

"You're safe," Din whispers, "Fallen or not."

Ben's saber is not screaming anymore.