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sorryimanon · 3 years

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Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state.

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

#mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #deku x you #deku x reader

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herstarburststories · 3 years

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Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas.

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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anotherhellchild · 4 years

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📂 i love your headcanons!

Aaahhhh thank you so much!!

Alright so, in honour of ur username…. Imma spout a Dadzawa + Bakuson + cat headcanon

(Quick shout out to @arschemy first tho! This was originally her idea and she really helped me <3)

The sun’s going down and Katsuki is on his way back to the dorms from his run.

It’s cold out, not cold enough for a jacket but definitely cold enough for a long sleeved shirt. The sky is getting darker and Katsuki’s heavy breaths become visible after every short exhale. The boy’s maybe got another three or four kilometers left before he’s back at UA’s gates, he’ll probably be there in about ten minutes.

A small, dark gray dot appears on the light gray concrete about two meters away from Katsuki’s feet. Then another falls a little away from there. Soon, more specs materialize and before Katsuki knows it, rain starts pouring down all around him. The street is empty. His hair dampens and falls down his forehead, wet locks of blond hair cover the top of his eyes. Raindrops slide down his neck and partially soaked socks make every step uncomfortable.

He should probably pick up the pace.

There’s a loud shriek. Or more accurately, there’s a loud shriek-like sound.

The noise comes from the alleyway to Katsuki’s right and the teen halts his movement right away.

Taking a couple steps back, Katsuki peeks past the corner of the wall. He’s just in time to see a cardboard box flip over and fall to the ground. After a moment of nothing, the thing knocks itself about three centimeters to the left.

Katsuki’s pretty sure unanimous objects aren’t supposed to be able to do that.

He should probably investigate this.

Making sure to keep his footsteps light, Katsuki carefully steps closer to the box. He needs to be cautious, you never know who or what could pop out from under a box in a sketchy alleyway.

mrrreowwww!

Oh. It’s just a fucking cat.

Great.

Somewhere, deep in the teen’s heart, Katsuki’s honestly a little relieved. Everywhere else though, Katsuki feels really stupid.

Not everything is out to get you, you fucking idiot.

Maybe he’s starting to turn a little paranoid.

The side of the box lifts up slightly, just enough for a little black paw to stick out from underneath.

Katsuki stares.

A black nose nudges it’s way underneath the box too, it fits perfectly in the gap created by the small paw. Whiskers and pointy teeth poke out from under cardboard.

Soundlessly, Katsuki crouches down.

The cat's head nudges and squirms it’s way out from underneath the box, once the small, drenched face completely finds its way out of its cardboard prison, it freezes.

Katsuki doesn’t move.

Big, red eyes stare into his.

Neither of them blink.

Rain still falls around them. Fat drops of water crash to the ground and two creatures get soaked in a stare off.

The cat gives first, it carefully tilts its head before cautiously continuing the process of getting out from under the box. It’s eyes stay locked on Katsuki.

Katsuki blinks then, the movement is slow and he doesn’t dare move any other muscle.

The cat blinks back. The thing’s found its way out from the box and it takes a cautious step towards the blond. Its black, spikey fur is a little tangled and really wet. Its ears are back and flat against its head. The thing looks underfed, cold and ready to pounce.

Katsuki offers his hand.

The distance between the two is closed slowly. After a couple sniffles, the cat comes even closer, maybe it senses Katsuki’s warmth. Maybe it craves that warmth.

Fuck.

Katsuki didn’t think he’d be relating to a fucking alleycat when he left for his run an hour ago, yet here he is.

The boy carefully gives the shivering creature a pat on its head. The thing immediately demands for more.

No.

Fuck.

He can’t get attached to the fucking cat. He’s not even a cat person for fucks sake.

mew

A little black paw comes up to tap Katusuki’s hand after it paused in its movement. Big red eyes seem to glow in the dark.

Tch.

When the hell did he become so weak?

---

Katsuki prays to any deity that nobody hears him enter the dorms. He really really really does not need anybody talking to him right now.

The cat squirms around in Katsuki’s shirt. The thing’s still shivering a little bit, but it’s already much better than twenty minutes ago. It serves as a nice lil’ heater on Katsuki’s chest too.

After looking around to make sure the coast is clear, Katsuki makes a bee-line for the stairs. By some miracle, he actually manages to make it to his room undetected.

Once he’s got the cat inside, Katsuki does his best to help the little guy out.

First, he takes the thing to the showers. Luckily for them, it’s too early in the evening for anybody else to be around in the bathroom so they get all the space they need to clean/ warm up.

It doesn’t take long for Katsuki to discover the hardest part of the whole ‘cleaning process’. Even though the damn thing is already soaking wet, it absolutely refuses to touch the warm, clean water Katsuki prepared for it. Lets just say that giving the cat a much needed bath has earned the boy quite a couple scratches.

The cat’s an annoying lil’ beast.

After both of them are all cleaned up though, it’s easy for Katsuki to brush the tangles out of the cat’s fur. The animal doesn’t put up any fuss and it actually seems to lean into the touch.

Katsuki finds some dinner for the both of them after all that is said and done. The cat desperately needs some food and water and although there isn’t any cat food in the dorms, they both make due with some random things Katsuki finds in the kitchen.

It’s too late to go out to a pet store right now, that’s just going to have to be done tomorrow.

The rest of the night, Katsuki and the cat just chill together. Katsuki honestly never knew watching a cat chase a laser could be so entertaining.

This kind of sucks, he thinks a couple hours after he found this monstrosity of a creature stuck under a fucking cardboard box in some random alleyway.

He looks down to where the bundle of black fur is curled up on his chest, the damn thing is purring and maybe maybe it's definitely already earned a special spot in Katsuki's heart.

I can’t keep you.

Katsuki knows he can’t. It would be unfair to the cat and it would be too selfish of him.

It’s not like he wants it this way, but he knows- he knows the cat deserves better.

So, there’re really only two options:

1) Take the cat to a shelter. It’d probably find a good home to live in. There’s no guarantee that would be the case though.

2) … Aizawa’s birthday is coming up. Katsuki hasn’t thought about what he wants to give his sensei yet but, everyone knows the man has a soft spot for strays.

Yeah, Katsuki’s already made up his mind.

---

It’s been a suspiciously normal birthday so far. Shota’s a little over 15 hours into the day and somehow, with his hell class, nothing drastic has happened yet. It’s almost unsettling, not that Shota’s complaining of course. He just… isn’t used to this relative normalness.

Whatever, he’s decided to just enjoy it. Perhaps the gods have finally decided to grant him a small break and the least Shota could do is accept that.

Anyway, Shota’s almost done giving his feedback speech to the kids and once it’s over, he’ll finally be free to take a much deserved nap.

“All in all, you guys did a good job today. Each of you know what you need to improve on individually so make sure you do. Dismissed.”

The class tiredly falters to the changing rooms at his words, except one stays where he is. The sight makes Shota sigh.

This is gonna be trouble, he thinks. The particular kid who's decided to stay behind is kind of notorious for- well he’s notorious for a bunch of things, but Shota will just use the word ‘danger’ for now.

Bakugou walks towards him as soon as the rest of the class is gone.

“Hey teach, I uhh gotchu somethin’.” The absolute hell child kind of awkwardly scratches the back of his head with those words. It’s obvious he’s having trouble with this, nevertheless Shota is incredibly proud of how far he’s come with his people skills. “Happy birthday I guess.”

Bakugou hands him a small, poorly wrapped package.

Honestly, Shota’s pretty surprised by the gesture. He… wasn’t expecting this. The class has already congratulated him with cake and gifts this morning, it was cheesy and sappy and sweet and it was done. The moment has already been had and it’s also already passed. Now Bakugou, of all people, is showing an extra form of affection towards him with whatever is wrapped in that paper.

Has the kid been hit with a quirk or something?

Unwrapping the package, Shota discovers... a collar.

Oh god.

It’s red with black seams on the outside and black with red seams on the inside.

Shota’s getting a very foreboding feeling about this, he’s also quite confused.

The man looks up to find Bakugou smirking.

“You can flip it around so either the black or red side shows.” The boy says.

“Bakugou, wha-?”

“I chose this colour cause it matches with his eyes.”

The kid crosses his arms over his chest. Somehow, the smirk on his face grows, an unnamed feeling in Shota’s chest grows with it.

“Also, I haven’t gotten a name tag yet cause I figured you’d want to name him yourself. Personally, I kinda liked ‘Dynamite’, but it’s obviously up to you though.”

Shota gulps. Pieces are falling together and he’s not sure he likes the picture they show.

What exactly did his devil spawn student do?

There’s no way- did he? Did he do what Shota thinks he’s done?

“Alright alright, look.” The kid says, hands up in a defensive stance. “Calm down sensei, jeez. Stop looking at me like you’re having a heart attack. I’ll explain, Okay?”

Shota takes a deep breath. He will show now sign of hope or excitement on his face.

“I was out on a run last week and I found a stray cat. I brought it back to the dorms cause it looked like shit and I- I just didn’t wanna leave it there.” Bakugou frowns at that, his gaze tears away from Shota’s and focuses on the ground instead. “Whatever. It’s really sweet and it deserves a good home. I knew you really liked cats and with your birthday coming up and all I just kinda figured you might want him? If you don’t then that’s fine of course, I just- hmph. It’s a good cat, okay?” The words are spoken clearly, Shota knows they’re used to hide insecurities though. Katsuki’s on the defensive.

There’s a lot to unpack. The main thing Shota notes is that Katsuki’s clearly gotten attached to this cat of his.

To be honest, Shota’s already made up his mind about this.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been hiding a cat in your dorm room for a week now? You’re aware that’s against the rules right?” He keeps his voice calm and monotone.

The kid huffs. “Yeah, I have. And I do. I wanted to wait till your birthday to give him to you though, it’d kinda spoil the surprise if I told you.”

“True.” Shota stands up, thank god his capture weapon is there to hide his smile.

Katsuki looks up to him and there’s a bit of a pause. He stares at Bakugou and Bakugou stares right back.

“Well, am I going to be allowed to meet Dynamite or what?” Shota says, one brow quirked up in challenge.

Bakugou releases a breath, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, you better take good care of him though, sensei. You won’t be forgiven if you don’t.” There’s a smirk on the boy’s lips, but his eyes are dead serious.

A fucking shovel talk.

Heh, leave it to his hell child to give such a casual yet intimidating shovel talk about a cat.

Pretty impressive.

He’ll be a fine hero, Shota thinks.

---

So, Dynamite is a fucking angel. Shota loves him and it’s no wonder Bakugou got so attached to him, the cat literally follows the boy around everywhere and Bakugou is definitely its favorite person.

It’s kind of nice, seeing the kid relax and let loose whenever he comes over to the teachers dorm for the creature. It happens quite often and Shota even brings the thing over to the dorms sometimes, just so Bakugou can hang out with it for a while.

What? It’s good to see the kid’s shoulders slump down whenever Dynamite sits on his lap. Bakugou absentmindedly strokes soft, black fur and the actions automatically makes his guard drop, albeit slightly.

Honestly, at this point Dynamite isn’t even his cat anymore. It’s his and Bakugou’s cat.

Shota doesn’t mind.

#IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO ANSWER #pls forgive me ive just been so busy #and i really kinda hated my writing #but i felt so guilty for making you wait so long :((#am very very sorry #anyway #the cat and katsuki are besties :)#Dynamite chills on katsukis shoulders all the time #it very cute #bnha #bakugou katsuki #shota aizawa #a cat #BNHA Headcanons #my hero academia #Headcanon #disclaimer btw: i know nothing about cats #do like them tho #folder ask!!

206 notes · View notes

kkulmoon · 4 years

Text

ROOM 2020 | knj ✦ m

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : It's finally graduation! You have just earned your master’s degree, but it's 2020 and onsite graduation and celebration isn't an option. However, Namjoon still wants to make sure you celebrate and scream at the top of your lungs. And what better way to celebrate plenty than in room 2020?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Namjoon x Reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut, fluff

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 18+

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : brief mention of airborne disease similar our current situation, alcohol, biting, unprotected sex (you better wrap it up!) , blindfolding, breast play, pussy slapping, a lil spanking, groping, cunnilingus, fingering, mushy and sappy fluffy behaviour is present (I just couldn't contain myself OKAY), slight edging. I think that’s it, pls let me know if i forgot to add anything :))

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐲 : three lovely people, Angie @scvkjin, Coralie @seakay05 (an editing queen!!!) and Bee @inkedxclouds (another editing queen!!!!!)

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 : the talented Danica @dee-ehn

𝐚/𝐧: i want to preface this by saying this is the FIRST smut I have ever written, so lowkey don’t know how to feel about what I just wrote. Anyways,,,, I want to give a big thanks to the person who went completely feral with me once I saw Joon during the 2020 graduation commencement, she and Joon are the reason I felt the need to write this, Danica love u babes 🤧💞. I also want to thank Bee, @j-sope @bangtiddies and @jeonggukingdom, for being such amazing pillars of support, love u 💞. Other than that, enjoy I guess 💆‍♀️🤪

Namjoon has done it again. You are going into full overdrive, ears operating at their full capacity, in hopes of figuring out where exactly he's taking you. “Don’t wear any eye makeup.” That’s what he had requested through text the night before. A request that hasn’t manifested much in you, except for the sudden realisation that Namjoon usually does not care about your makeup habits. That should have been warning enough. But that was then and you’re here now.

The roughness of Namjoon’s tie massages your eyelids as your body registers the gravitational drag before the ding sounds. If the swooshing doors and the slick card in your hand aren’t evidence enough, the sound lets you know that you’re indeed currently at a hotel. You jump slightly at the touch of his hands at the back of your head where the knot lies.

“Just checking; wouldn’t want you to peep.” The voice is sweet and the thrill it arises in you even sweeter.

It’s summer time, graduation day and it would have been like any other day of celebration had it not been for the current state of the world. Everyone is faced with an airborne disease that threatens the livelihood of society and stifles everyone's plans for fun days lit by the never-ending golden rays. That’s your current reality and yet in the midst of all the uncertainty there are two sure facts: today, a Friday, you have just graduated and today, over 730 days since you let longing gazes turn infatuation into a relationship, Kim Namjoon loves you enough to have sat beside you to attend your streamed graduation ceremony.

You’re left to walk alone, Namjoon trusting you enough to do so. You have just earned your masters in engineering and with honours at that, walking straight should not be a problem. It wouldn’t be one did you not have his looming breath caress your bare shoulders every time he shifts closer to you as if he is some bloodhound able to smell your state. The clacking of your sandals and the soft thud of Namjoon’s steps fills the air to let you know that he is walking a few steps behind you.

The day had started with a heretic phone call from your mother screaming at you for oversleeping on your graduation day. The wifi had been funky and you had spent a whole thirty minutes trying to build a stand with a proper height where you could prop your laptop. In the middle of all the chaos you had managed to spill water on your dress that Namjoon had to blow dry. You were left with a scorching thigh and to say the least, you felt crispy. The morning was chaotic but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Well, except for the stand. It’s wobbling had given you too much anxiety. The prospect of your laptop plummeting to the floor in the middle of the stream to reveal the mess in your room made it very hard to focus on the ceremony.

The only upside to the stream had been the fact it was much shorter than an usual graduation celebration. Before you knew it, you were required to give your speech as the class’s valedictorian. As creative as you consider yourself to be, you decided to not deviate from the usual template, starting with a sweet thank you, mentioning your countless hardships through ‘the most formative years of your life’, thanking your favourite professors and even managing to slip in a suggestive comment aimed at that man that has your heart, just to make him happy.

“I would also like to thank Namjoon for all of his nightly motivation. I truly could not have come all this way without him,” you had said with a wide smile, squeezing his palm into your hand, not because you wanted to be affectionate but because it was heading south of your thighs into the moist valley between your legs.

Namjoon’s hand lands on your shoulder bringing you back to the present and you feel heat in its placement, what you don’t know is whether it is his hand or your body. You can’t help but quiver at his unseen touch of your arm, fingers tracing their way to your loose fist where they snatch the damp keycard away.

The soft click of the electronic lock unlocks something in you. What in the heck did Namjoon have planned for you? Was this one of his few adventurous moments? You were the one who always suggested places to go and planned your activities not because he wouldn’t but because he couldn’t. Anytime he tried planning anything, something was missing. At first it was the picnic where he forgot the cutlery then it was the camping trip where he forgot to bring bug spray. So as excited as your body feels, your mind can’t help but be cautious.

You are kept waiting for something, anything. A soft push or maybe a calm order, but Namjoon gives you neither and yet you feel secure in continuing your walk. You are allowed a few steps forward before Namjoon makes you stop, once again. The door is shut with the same suspenseful click and all you can think is: Show time!

The room is quiet except for the soft whooshing of the ventilation. Only then do you take notice of the increased tempo of your breaths. You breathe in deeply, teeth munching on your bottom lip. The effects of your quiet calming ritual crumbles as soon as Namjoon closes the gap between the two of you, lips on your shoulders, hands holding on to yours as he engulfs you into a back hug.

“Oooh,” you shiver, coiling into his chest.

At first, there’s one kiss in the middle of your shoulder, followed by another at the crevice of your neck. Your stuttering breaths, encouraging him to give you a warm wet lick up your neck to your decorated earlobe. One that he bites as he grinds his hips into your clothed ass. “How are you feeling?” Namjoon asks fingers caressing your interlocked digits. All you can do is stretch your head back to come into contact with his shoulder and grind back onto his crotch in response. You feel great, better than great in fact, yet you know he is the only one able to make you feel you even better.

“Come on babe, you are a big girl and you just graduated. Use your words with me.” He says, composed as always as his kisses travel up the side of your face to stop at your temple where you sense the slow but evident stretch of his lips. “You know how I’m feeling,” you whine.

It’s the chuckle, it’s the small consecutive rumbles of his chest and it's your undeniable devotion to him that makes you squirm in place, head shifting side to side on his shoulders, waiting for him to continue. His hands spread across the expanse of your stomach as he kneads at the flesh making you inhale in hope that he would reach lower. And lower he goes, palms spreading to touch your heat.

“Yes, right there!” You hum in accordance with his action.

“Here?” he inquires. You nod, head still back as you curve it to the side once Namjoon’s soft warning bite scrapes at the skin of your ear. “What did I say? Words, babe, words.”

You reach your hand to place it on top of his, keeping it rooted in place, as you buck into the sweet roughness of the pad of his fingers. “Yes, Joon, right there.” You try to sound collected yet it all comes out in a pitched mewl. You bite down on your lips, the rhythmic stimulation of his hands inducing a steady rocking of your hips, small gasps rooting themselves at the top of your throat, mouth running dry from Namjoon’s sporadic choice to delve deeper between your thighs.

”Hmmm, Joon. Please stop teasing,” you whine, inching your mouth with your tongue out towards him. Anything would do, you would take anything he wanted to give. His pulsating neck, his parted lips, his cool fingers, or his throbbing dick.

”I am just giving you some motivation,” he smirks alluding to your graduation speech. Your cringing expression humours him and you gasp, body growing tenser by the minute. You now know that it was all planned. He had been touchy all day, slipping a couple of stolen kisses and sneaky squeezes throughout the ceremony. You couldn’t manage to act right, your leg almost kicking the stand down. Your eyes should have been wet, not your pussy. His own innuendos didn’t go unnoticed. You were quite frankly overwhelmed. Namjoon was nasty but never that public about it and certainly not during a live online graduation. You’re brought back to the present with a stinging slap to your sex.

At this point, your wriggling is at its max and you can feel the burn of his suit jacket at the back of your neck. You try your luck with a tentative turn to your right and to your surprise he lets you take over. Your nose is now buried into his chest and you can hear the thumping of his frantic heart and it’s your turn to smile. The faint smell of your lemon scented detergent fills your senses. You give his torso a small kiss, arms locking themselves around his upper body. The pressure of the firm protrusion in his pants makes itself known on your body and it takes everything in you not to beg. You just need to be more patient. That’s what Namjoon has taught you; good things come to those who wait.

And good things do come once he palms your ass cheeks, gripping hard at the soft flesh. A small squeak leaves you as he scoops you up, legs encircling his hips. “What do you want babe?” It’s a simple question, really. Yet the answers are endless. You more than want, you need him to give in to your advances and lose himself in you the way you are losing yourself in him even when he has barely touched you. Through all of that and the other thousand scenarios that flash by in your mind your lips settle for something they can themself profit from.

“Kiss me.”

Still blindfolded, your mouth gapes at the air hoping to catch his full lips once they are close enough. His hot breath fans your face as you exchange panting breaths that have your head inching forward, an action that earns you a pinch to your behind. Namjoon seems to take pity in your eager behaviour and finally closes the distance. The instant your lips touch, you exhale deeply, sinking further into the vicious grip of his hands and he manages to increase the span of his exploration. Hungry for more, you overtake the kiss, hands cradling his face as your tongue floods the warmth of his mouth, legs squeezing him closer evoking a soft croak from him. Your movements are frantic. Long gone is your attempt at being collected as you let it be known, let it be felt that you needed him glued to you in all places imaginable.

Your noses bump in the middle of your furious exploration of his lips. You taste the champagne you had after you officially graduated in your tiny one room apartment and you hope that there will be more times like this where you would get to celebrate with him and be able to close your eyes and still taste those memories on the tip of his tongue. Along the way as you keep devouring his now wet lips, your makeshift blindfold, Namjoon’s tie, unravels itself to fall between your faces. In that moment, he opens his eyes, “Hi,” he says, lids half away open but enough for you to feel the warmth from his deep brown eyes.

“Hi!” you giggle, forehead falling down to touch his.

A few instances ago you felt ready to unleash your ferocity on him and force him to pick up the tempo and find his rightful place inside of you. Yet, here you are, now somewhat calmer.

“God, how are you so cute?” Namjoon questions, nose scrunching up. Despite the cuteness overload your body craves to be handled in a way that’s nothing short of passionate and all consuming.

The two of you are now slightly more composed, your desires still itching deep within you but your actions have now taken a calmer route as he puts you down. Your tunnel vision for Namjoon subsists and you’re able to take in the dimly lit room. If the invigorating makeout session wasn’t enough to let you know that the celebration is still going, the ice filled bucket with champagne does just that. You walk past the inviting cream coloured bed to reach the side table with the champagne. Your heated hands touch the perspiring green glass bottle, holding it out to Joon while you raise your brow at him.

“That’s for after the ceremony,” he makes it known.

You let out a mellow ‘oh’, “I see.”

You place the bottle back where you had found it and walk to the end of the bed, where you sit down, kicking off your heels and reaching up to take off your graduation cap.

“Well then, we better get started,” you say enthusiastically. Namjoon who had found his way to stand in front of it lets his soft palm weigh down your wrist, stilling you. “Wow, you really have a way of killing the mood, huh? And I think you should keep this on. Isn’t the cap usually removed after the ceremony?”

With grinning lips you lean back on hands, the cool and slick sheets sliding under your hot palms. You shift your gaze to Namjoon’s feet, for once he decided to ditch his sneakers, which he had swore he would wear to your graduation, probably just to annoy you. You let your naked foot trail against the leather of his shoe, sliding it up his cream slacks all the way to his right calf. Your eyes lift up to his, calm and attentive.

He had already discarded his suit jacket to be left with a white shirt, one you had advised him not to wear, Namjoon had a habit of managing to dirty his clothes even in the cleanest of environments. Staring right at him, you push forward behind his knee hoping he will get where you want him, need him. For a second you’re hopeful as his knees slightly give in. But Namjoon shakes his head, side to side, with a soft smile, “Not yet, we wouldn’t want your dress to get ruined now would we?”

You looked down at your attire. Yeah, you think, maybe he's right. Your mom had made the ivory white lace and tulle knee length dress and she would definitely ask to keep and store it. You don’t exactly want her to guard and treasure a sweat and cum covered dress. You take a deep breath as you let his warm hand guide your body back up, tugging harshly at your wrist to draw you closer to his body.

Namjoon hunches down and his fingers dance on your thighs, the anticipation making them stutter. He reaches the hem and softly ruffles the material. “You looked really cute today, by the way.”

You’re left cheesing, hard, hands covering your face as you give a muffled ‘stop it’ before you huff and add a faint ‘thanks’.

He heaves the rustling material all the way up to take it off, humming softly at the result as you try to figure out what to do with your hands. Being shy around Namjoon isn’t a regular occurrence, yet today, when his eyes have made it their job to observe your every movement, chasing your reactions to his light hearted teasing, you feel more bashful than ever. Now they look content, they sparkle, happy to be able to see what they had been imagining all day. The view is just as enticing as any of the other times he has the pleasure to undress you and have you standing barren ready to be clothed with his fervent skin.

With two steady fingers, he presses against your sternum to push you back down onto the bed. He approaches the space between your widened legs to stroke your chin, tightening his grip as he dives back into your mouth. You let your spine extend to its fullest length, pushing back against his wet hot appendage. Your grip on his slacks deepens, scrunching the textured material as you continuously tug on it, hopeful that it will let him know his advances are too calm for your liking.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to agree, slapping your hands away the moment his reddened lips leave yours. As furrowed brows adorn your face and puffed breaths do their best to recuperate the oxygen the kiss stole from you, you clench your fists thumping your legs. You need to do something with your hands, and therefore you let your arm span across the little space between your face and his crotch. Despite the lack of full light in the room, you can see the outline, the impatient longing of his cock, as it strains against his pants. You really want to touch it. And touch, you try. But no matter how much you push, Namjoon doesn’t let you through.

“No, no, no, no. It’s your graduation, not mine. I got you.” With a small wink his head is now levelled with your chest as he plants the same smouldering pecks that are only reserved for you on your eager hands.

The drag of his palms against your thighs burns sweetly, the sensation etching itself within your most private area to drag a needy call for him to ravage you. The pecks keep travelling from your hands down your pulsating chest and to your thighs, which are tense with unattended lust. You have the time to take a couple of full breaths before the next is trapped within your pressed lips, anticipation stilling your fidgety state.

It’s the hot and electrifying breath of his focused body hitting your drenched panties that compulses a sudden wave of rapture through your anticipating physique. Now it’s too much. You can’t help but reach for the short deep brown strands of his head to smash his face against your wet centre. The humming resurfaces to ripple through needy walls as you shove him even closer to your throbbing heat, as impossible as it may sound. Namjoon rewards you with a firm lick to your clothed slit coating the drenched cloth ever more.

He licks again only to leave you needy as the cool air hits the scalding area. Fingers hooking around the thin material that covers your lower half, Namjoon calmly removes the barrier, contrasting with the quick shimmy of your legs. He throws the ruined piece of clothing onto his discarded jacket.

Now, this is it. You’re impatient, somehow managing to spread your legs further apart as to flaunt your unprotected dripping center. Namjoon has a history of losing it once he saw the state he put you in. You’ve noticed the slow blinking of his eyes once his knees have scooted closer to the edge of the bed.

His head migrates forward towards where you need him most as his hand pushes against your jitter filled stomach, prompting your head to bounce against the plush pillows as it settles down ready to be ravished. Namjoon’s affirmative arms lift your legs onto his shoulders as they hook you in place. He continues to fan his flaming breath over your shivering thighs, lips occasionally bumping against the goosebumps printed on your skin.

“Joon pleaseeeee...”

You scramble for his head, the wait agonising. Your hands never reach their intended destination as they spread against your hip bones whilst he dives in. Just like the past moments, he comes in soft. Gentle licks from his tongue, as his slurps at your dripping pussy lips. Lips that meet his in a slow and torturous game of push and pull. To hear you moan and swear is the kind of motivation Namjoon needs to let his tongue snake its way into your tight pussy. “Oh shit,” your pleasure ridden fingers curl around his tight forearms. Your hips move on their own accord meeting the deep plunges of his strong muscle. Namjoon responds with a rougher approach, nose burying itself in your pubic bone as he reaches his hands to wrap them around your neglected breasts.

His own ferocious pace sets you off, the lewd wet sounds of sucking and slurping mixing with your combined needy moans in the naked air to create a melodic sound that drives the both of you deeper into your pleasure. The increased intensity of your tugging and scratching at his scalp tells Namjoon that you’re close, close to where he wants you to be, in that place where he believes he gets to experience your most enticing beauty. With that in mind, he licks his lips coating himself with your arousal and letting those same lips circle themselves around your clit. He’s met with a sudden jerk of your hips, hands pressing against your stomach to keep you in place, letting his enjoyment of your current state encourage him to spiral his tongue around the sweetest spot.

Once your strained moans manifest themselves, he brings one of his hands to your gaping hole. Warm thick fingers, plunge into your sloppy heat, slowly delving in and out determined to bring you over the edge. “Look who’s so wet for me.” You respond with an uncontrolled tug of his hair. Namjoon continues the sluggish pumping of his hand as his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit. His fingers curl inside of you, teeth scraping against your lips before hollowing his mouth around your seeping slit. His coated fingers whirl around your sensitive bud, palms kneading at the tender tissue, squeezing and releasing to the rhythm of his laps at your soaked lips, engorging himself on your sweet juices.

“Come for me, babe,” he says as the palms of his strong hands stroke your stuttering legs. His tongue takes one last plunge, muscle tense, probing in and out of your pulsating warm pussy. All it takes is the harsh supporting pumps and curls of his fingers to make you writhe and shake as the knot in your stomach winds itself tighter and tighter. Your sweet lips keep inviting him, sucking his tongue and fingers in and Namjoon lets it all go, a satisfied groan rippling through his lips and into your agitated form.

Even in the increasing darkness of the room, you do not dare to keep your eyes open as your body convulses into a twisting mess once you can’t handle the curling of his fingers and the gentle biting of his hungry teeth. The scream comes before the reactions as you let it all out, feet kicking out, thighs trapping Namjoon’s smiling face as you ride out the wave of pleasure that just hit you. The distinct yet tenuous swing of calming hips encourages Namjoon to lay down affectionate pecks across the expanse of your slit migrating to the top crease of your leg to lay small pinching bites. Bites that tell you to get ready, there’s more to come.

The mattress sinks deeper into the supporting structure of the bed as Namjoon slides you farther up the bed to hover over your panting chest.

“Can you please let me see your pretty eyes?”

All you need him to do is request and you shall give. You promptly remove the arm that is laced above your eyes to give a lopsided smile. A smile that stretches as you notice the way Namjoon’s expression mimics your own, small valleys probing his cheeks. The calm staring of his eyes has your tongue dancing around your mouth, arms extending themselves to unbutton his damp shirt. Despite your haste you manage to undo the buttons at such a painfully slow paste that his hand has to lay itself on top of yours to guide you slowly and steadily down the row of small round obstacles shielding your palms from his radiating and glistening chest.

The undoing goes by slowly, yet it feels as if it was done in a flash. Even now you seem to forget Namjoon’s ability to distort time for you. Knowing hands travel to find their rightful place on his taut chest, moving beyond the watering views to scratch at the deprived skin of his clenched back. The deep rumbling that leaves his throat leaves you rapt, your ass responding as it has you bucking into his hard member. The innocent movement starts a string of hisses, hisses that echo in the air, leaving you even more entranced with his reactions to your craving heat.

Impatient, and unwilling to obey, your feet scramble to undress his loose slacks. Namjoon’s still perched over you, the strong stance of his arms wavering with every swipe of your wet pussy over his clothed cock. Your toes hook onto the sides of his pants pushing down to reveal his tight grey underwear, the front part decorated with small darkened spots that have you biting your lips.

Mimicking your previous movement, he is left bare, his dick bobbing up as it’s released. It’s common procedure now for you to reach, with excited hands, for what is rightfully yours but this night happens to be filled with reminders. His ordering hand wraps around yours, bringing them to his drenched lips, “Tonight’s about you.” You get that he wants to treasure you, but you like giving and not being able to deplore all of your current ecstasy on every inch of his body has you whining, shoulder shimming side to side.

Yet Namjoon decides to turn a blind eye to your outcry, instead focusing on letting your tight entrance know that its favourite guest is waiting eagerly to get it in. Hooking a forceful hand on your right leg, he slides the blood rushed tip of his pre-cum coated member up and down your slit, letting the tip slip so as to let the entire length of his warm member bask in the wetness of your needy pussy. A wetness that he created, made for him to plunge into.

The squirming ends of your hands wind themselves around your exposed hair and ankles doing their best to prevent him from prolonging your burning torment by forcing him into you. Namjoon takes pity in your jolting hips as he hits his throbbing member against your tender nether lips, leaving your legs shaky. And for once you welcome the furrowed eyebrows on his concentrated face as he slides his pulsating dick, progressively stretching your needy walls, the thick member delving deeper into your slit. “Ahhh,” you sigh, content and full, walls clenching and dripping at the well-known stretch.

The minute Namjoon bottoms out, two simultaneously exhales rest in the ventilated atmosphere. Using the little force that you have left you lift yourself up, you let your abused lips catch his. You latch onto them, hands cradling his head to bring him even closer, as if that is possible. It’s your hungry exploration of a place already so familiar to your tongue that has him moaning into you whilst he delivers measured strokes into your oozing center. Despite his need to drag himself back to catch air, you don’t let go, mumbling into his clenched teeth, “Fuck me harder, Joon.”

The lapping kisses resume alongside the quick strenuous pounding of Namjoon’s hips. All together they have you breathless and dizzy basking in the overpowering musk of his body. You mewl, biting his saliva slobbered mouth to relieve the staggering friction from his rolling hips.

“Shit, they were right to give you that award. This honour roll pussy really is something else,” Namjoon huffs out and you let out a chuckle that morphs into squealing moans as he continues to lay down pointed strokes that keep pushing you closer and closer to the bed’s headrest. Your folds are reaching their limit, pussy clamming around the slamming thrust of his cock. Namjoon chews the inside of his cheek, letting the intimidating protrusion of his clenched jaw set you back in place. In place being pointed nipples lazily grazing his chest, arms grounding the last of your sanity on his steady form and panting mouth finding refuge in the deep crevice of his neck.

“Babe, come on,” he warns.

“Whattttt,” you whine. It’s not your fault your body can’t control itself.

He gulps a good chunk of your breast and bites it harshly. It has the adverse effect, what should have been a warning only has you more heated. A big slap sounds and your legs clench tighter around his ass cheeks as Namjoon completely bottoms out only to stop. His hands find purchase in your ruffled exposed hair, elbows trapping your head, as he mutters into your boiling ear, “Be still.” You can do nothing but whine and pout trying your best to be obedient giving him small nods despite your restricted head. Namjoon doesn’t flatter, he remains still as your composure wavers every few seconds. It all results in teasing bites along your ear and the sides of your face.

You feel like you’re dying, of bliss that is. He still won’t move and you have managed to not let your involuntary needs take over your motor skills. It’s the tender stroking of his hand on your cap covered head that lets you know you have done well. Yet Namjoon’s slight chuckling whisper confirms your beliefs, “Let’s graduate baby.”

The languid thrusts turn into audible pounding, squelching sounds feeling your ears as your multiple tries at breathing fail, the air stopping in your throat resulting in inaudible gasps. The rupture of your orgasm manifests itself in your bones, your arms and legs trembling, eager to let Namjoon’s own edged body know how the blistering attack his thick cock on your craving walls is an all-consuming experience that you welcome with a wall piercing moan, “AHHH… fuck.., Joon hmmm.”

The thrusts have now turned frantic, as they miss their intended aim. He’s almost there. You engulf him into your chest, placing soft encouraging bites along his uptight shoulder as his nails anchor themselves on your slippery back.

“Congratulations, baby, you deserve it.” Those are the words he uses to invigorate the warm spurt of his cum, coating your squeezing pussy as your hands, placing on the warm globes of his ass, press him closer to your bucking center. You want it all, to be filled to the brink and claiming what is rightfully yours. For sure, the best graduation gift you’ve ever received. You let the remaining ripples make their way through his body, caressing his arms as your faces drag against each other.

Namjoon opens his mouth only to let his slack body fall on top of yours, drained but content. You’re left to snicker as you thread your fingers through his sweat drenched hair strands. “Hmm, now would be a great time to have some champagne.” You point towards the bucket bottle. He shifts his head to have his chin right on your chest looking up at you.

He looks at you for a short while as if he was imprinting the sight of your makeup smeared and sweaty face on the back of his mind. His hand reaches to take hold of the visor of your graduation cap, with a firm hold on the leather covered material he tugs the cap off and throws it into the air. “Oh!” you exclaim laughing as you clap.

“Happy graduation, Y/N, you did it,” Namjoon says with a kiss between your cooling boobs. You place a chaste kiss to his forehead before pushing him off of you with the little remaining force you could conjure up.

Apprehensive steps take you to the chilled metal bucket. Before you can snatch the bottle into your hands, ready to allow your mind to become hazy enough to have another round filled with even more erratic cries, Namjoon reaches for the bottle from behind you. Knowledgeable joints fiddle with the metal string, thumb pressuring the cork top into the air. You twiddle with your tired hands to hold the two champagne glasses, however still swimming in your ecstatic mood you manage to spill some champagne onto the ground.

You take a big swig of the champagne, somehow behaving drunk even without the alcohol. Another one of Namjoon’s admirable characteristics. To put you in such a euphoric state that overwhelms your senses and solidifies his place in your heart. It could have been the champagne, your undeniable infatuation with the sweet man in front of you, or the gaze that he gave you as if he was seeing you for the first time once again, as if there’s still details for him to catch and memorise. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, not as you stand on the tips of your toes to plant a few pecks on his lips. And for good measure, in case the message isn’t clear, you slip in a couple of ‘thank yous’ and ‘love yous’, all while hoping your future reserves a whole array of ‘Room 2020s’.

Posted: June 18 2020 a/n: Hope you liked it, feel free to let me know your thoughts 🥺

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emmie-sue-who · 2 years

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Fast Food

A buzzfeed quiz told me I would meet my soulmate in two years. This was based on an impartially conducted survey of my opinions on fast-food items. I believe in soulmates like I believe in Taco Bell’s chicken sandwich. It might have existed at one point, but why and who was it for? I’m not convinced that having the ingredients is a good enough reason to make something. And the slim odds of it being the greatest thing on the menu never stopped me from ordering something familiar, something that’s proven itself. It’s probably for the best that I don’t see it anywhere anymore.

When I think of where I’ll be in two years, I imagine it’ll look pretty similar to where I’m at now. I’ve always been a fan of predictability, of established patterns. As a child, I spent hours looking through my grandma’s kaleidoscope. I wanted to turn it until I was back to the pattern I started with. It took me a long time to grasp the concept that there are things that aren’t fixed. I was too patient, too certain that the possibilities had to end somewhere. Grandma said I was easy to entertain.

Reality dating shows are my guilty pleasure. There’s just something about how they reduce soulmates to a cheap marketing ploy. The ratings love a good kismet connection. As long as it ends with you giving a sappy speech about how they’ve changed your life, how you’ve grown so much since meeting them, how you look forward to spending every day with them, it doesn’t matter that you don’t know their middle name or whether they’re allergic to your cat or if they’d be willing to relocate cross-country for you. I love what it pretends that love can be.

When I think about my life two years ago, I know it looks pretty similar to where I’m at now. Except then I thought I was missing something. I kept turning the kaleidoscope, trying on new patterns and hoping that one would be the last. And maybe I was looking for it in the wrong places. Like trying to get a chicken sandwich from Taco Bell. They serve food, but not the kind you’re wanting.

By the time I met you, I was a vegetarian. We were assigned to workshop together for our writing seminar. You asked what I thought about soulmates and I said anything is possible, but isn’t it a little too convenient of a plot device? You asked if I thought people could be in love forever and I said they could, but the kind of love you’re talking about can only exist if it’s over at the beginning, before it gets soured by things like pet allergies or state lines. You asked if I would read a story when I already knew how it would end and I said those are my favorite kind, but I think that’s not something I should be proud of. Then, I suppose I am pretty easy to entertain after all.

#creative writing #my words #my writing #writing #fiction

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steponmepinkjun · 3 years

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I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

#felix-bi-anon #asksteppie

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femmereddie · 4 years

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strong as the steel we carry (we rise like the sun) [6/6]

pairing: adora/catra fandom: she-ra and the princesses of power rating: general summary: A collection of drabbles from canon moments over the course of She-Ra, Catra/Adora related. This post contains all my drabbles from 5x11 through 5x13. read on ao3

S05E11 Failsafe

Adora felt terrible when she saw Catra curled on her side on the mattress. She looked small and vulnerable, like something drained all the strength she had. Adora walked over to Catra, determined to bring her to Mystacor. She wanted to ensure that Catra felt valued and wanted because she was. Adora had no idea what she would have done if Catra wasn’t by her side this entire time. Making Catra feel loved and secure gave Adora a renewed energy, energy that she channeled to fight Horde Prime. “Catra, are you coming with us to Mystacor?”

“Why would I do that? Seems like you and Shadow Weaver have it handled,” Catra sighed. “After everything she’s done to us, you’re really going to follow her?”

Adora’s heart broke at the betrayal in Catra’s voice. The last thing she wanted was for Catra to think she wanted Shadow Weaver around. “I don’t like it either, but this is the only plan we have; the failsafe could finally save Etheria.”

Catra turned on her other side, away from Adora.

Catra’s action stung, but Adora would not leave her behind just because of Shadow Weaver. Adora would never forgive their former abuser for what she did to both Catra and herself. Adora promised she would not let anyone hurt Catra again, including Shadow Weaver, of all people. Nothing would stop Adora from protecting Catra against Shadow Weaver. “Shadow Weaver hurt us; I haven’t forgotten that. But Prime is hurting so many more people. I need to stop him, Catra.”

“I know, I know. You have to go save the world, spare me the speech.”

“Hey, she can’t do anything to us anymore. Please come. We…” Adora took a deep breath and put her hand on Catra’s shoulder. Catra needed to know how important she was to Adora, and frankly, Adora wouldn’t mind reminding her every day for the rest of their lives. “I could really use your help.”

“Fine. I’m only doing this to make sure Shadow Weaver doesn’t try anything. Not because I like you,” Catra said, grinning.

Although Catra was still looking the other way, Adora smiled back. She knew Catra was just joking, and it made her heart swell. They had a long way to go to defeat Prime, but Adora was happy to see that Catra was slowly overcoming past trauma. She wanted to help her friend in any way she could.

Suddenly, Melog jumped on Adora, making her squeal in surprise. Melog purred in response, while Catra looked stared. Catra was so in love with her best friend that she would chastise herself if she knew of the sappy smile she wore on her face. However, as usual, Catra lost all concept of time and space whenever Adora's ethereal presence mesmerized her.

* * *

“Don’t touch me!” Catra shouted, jumping away from Shadow Weaver.

Catra didn’t mean to cause a scene, but the second Shadow Weaver laid a hand on her, she freaked out. Catra wouldn’t admit it to anyone, except maybe for Adora (although Catra was sure that Adora knew already), but Shadow Weaver still scared her. Her former abuser grabbed her out of nowhere. How could she not react?

Unfortunately, Melog growled at Shadow Weaver, instinctively going into protection mode, releasing the invisible shield they held on the group.

Once they became visible, Adora gasped, noticing a chipped sorceress at the center of the room. Catra and Melog dived out of the way just in time, but it was enough to trigger Adora’s fight or flight instinct. She didn’t even know if she had that instinct until she began having trouble transforming into She-Ra. Hopefully, this time, she wouldn't.

“For the honor of Grayskull!”

But other than a brief flickering of a sword, nothing happened. Adora gasped again, realizing that she had to choose flight. The sorceress spun a magic spell and aimed at Adora, forcing her to jump behind the pillar that Catra and Melog hid behind.

The group moved quickly after that, but it did not stop Adora from feeling like she failed to protect Catra, and it did not stop Catra from shivering because of how Shadow Weaver’s cold hands felt on her skin.

* * *

The strike team followed Shadow Weaver and Castaspella into a secret hallway, where the tunnels of Mystacor were hidden.

Catra crossed her arms and walked, attempting to fight insecurities that Shadow Weaver sprung into her mind.

Adora noticed Catra’s jitteriness and how she distanced herself from everyone else. Adora was still upset that she couldn’t protect Catra, but it wasn’t just about the sorceress. Adora wished she could protect Catra from dark memories, the trauma inflicted on Catra by Shadow Weaver. “Hey, are you…” Adora began, reaching out for Catra.

As soon as Adora touched her shoulder, Catra instinctively recoiled, thinking it was Shadow Weaver. She was a little queasy being near anyone at the moment, but Adora was always an exception. However, Catra didn’t want to burden Adora with her baggage, so before Adora even finished her question, Catra looked away and curtly said, “I’m fine.”

Adora gently placed her hands on Catra’s shoulders and smiled. With her inability to transform into She-Ra, and Shadow Weaver lurking about, the only thing Adora could do was comfort her friend. “Catra, it’ll be okay. Trust me.”

Catra didn’t say anything, but her eyes filled with hope. She wanted to trust Adora—in fact, she did. The two of them have come a long way over the last three years. But no matter how hard Adora tried, she couldn’t comfort Catra’s trauma away.

But Catra was appreciative of Adora’s effort. She was about to respond, but Shadow Weaver unpleasantly interrupted their moment. “There’s no time to waste. News of our presence will have reached the others by now after that… disturbance,” Shadow Weaver said, looking pointedly at Catra.

Catra glared, but she held her ground. She would not appear weak in front of the person who tormented her for years, no matter how scared she was inside. Hopefully, Shadow Weaver couldn’t hear her heartbeat’s rapid pace.

Adora did not want Shadow Weaver to start trouble, especially since she always tried to push people’s buttons. Adora stepped in front of Catra and firmly said, “Come on, we have to keep moving.”

Adora walked ahead, so she missed Shadow Weaver and Catra glancing at each other, but it was anything but amicable. After a moment, Shadow Weaver walked away, and Catra’s heart rate finally slowed down, despite the fury that still brewed inside of her. However, there was nothing else she could do, so Catra followed the group. As always, she remained on guard for herself and her heart.

* * *

The group finally descended into Mystacor’s tunnels.

Adora led the pack. She wanted to reach the failsafe and get out of there without any more trouble. She stepped forward just as Shadow Weaver cried, “Wait!”

However, as soon as Adora put her foot down, a circle of flames illuminated around her.

“Adora!” Catra cried, jumping into the fire without thinking. If a past version of Catra saw her desperation when she hurled herself into the flames, past Catra would be horrified. Her present self acted rashly and without thinking, and most importantly, without any plan. It was so unlike her.

However, past Catra had not endured everything that her present self had. Catra was running on so many stakes, and she had been for a long time now. Thinking was hardly an option, mostly if Adora’s life was on the line, and the stakes just kept rising. The longer Horde Prime went undefeated, the more Catra didn’t think they would beat him, and Catra’s priority was Adora’s safety. Nobody else (except for Bow and Glimmer) would look out for Adora, not even Adora herself. The prospect of Adora dying from some dumb fire was not an option. Catra had to get her back.

Catra successfully pulled Adora out of the fire, and they tumbled onto the ground on top of each other.

“I’m okay. I’m okay!” Adora insisted.

Catra unknowingly gazed down at Adora. So what if everyone else stared? Okay, it was a big deal if people looked, but Catra thought Adora would die. Was it so awful to give herself a few moments to revel in the love of her life’s existence?

Adora didn’t move from underneath Catra. Instead, she smirked. “Did you just jump into fire for me?”

Okay, the moment was officially over. Adora was alive, and there was no reason for Catra to lay on top of her, especially since everyone was watching. “What? No! Shut up!” She said, pushing Adora away.

But Adora couldn’t stop laughing. In fact, she snorted. “You did.”

God, Catra was so in love.

* * *

“I see you and Catra are close again.”

Adora glanced sideways at Shadow Weaver, who lingered behind everyone else, waiting for Adora to catch up. Instead of responding, Adora chose to keep walking.

“Do you really think that’s wise?”

Adora stopped and turned to Shadow Weaver. How dare she try and tell Adora what to do about Catra? This woman already did enough damage to both of them, and she always made things worse by involving herself. This time, Adora was going to make sure Shadow Weaver stayed out of her personal life. “It’s none of your business.”

“But it is,” Shadow Weaver said, approaching Adora. “If your emotions are blocking you from becoming She-Ra, it’s all of Etheria’s business.”

Adora’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realized how selfish she might have become now that she was also focused on Catra. Adora loved Catra with all her heart, more than anyone in the world, but Etheria needed She-Ra to defeat Horde Prime, even if Catra needed Adora more.

“How long has it been since you were able to transform?” Shadow Weaver asked.

Adora sighed and looked down in defeat. “It’s been happening ever since the Fright Zone.” She felt her body shake as tears welled in her eyes. “What if… what if I’m losing her?”

Shadow Weaver covered Adora’s hands with her own. “She-Ra is a being of pure magic. To unleash her full strength, you must be focused, clearheaded. But you are letting your emotions pull you in too many directions; Catra, she… distracts you, confuses you. Haven’t you hurt each other enough?”

Adora gasped. It never occurred to her that she could hurt Catra by being powerless. Adora thought of earlier when she was forced to duck behind a pillar because she couldn’t transform into She-Ra. She felt useless without her magic, but more importantly, Adora felt like a failure because she couldn’t protect Catra.

“If you care about her, focus on protecting her; the world needs you as She-Ra right now, not Adora. And if She-Ra can’t stop Prime… then we are all doomed.”

Adora angrily pulled away from Shadow Weaver’s grasp. She hadn’t realized that she allowed Shadow Weaver to manipulate her once again, and at Catra’s expense. Adora had to be more careful; otherwise, she might hurt the person she loved most. “I will stop Prime. No matter what.”

Adora was relieved she recognized Shadow Weaver’s manipulation before things got out of hand. She could only imagine what would happen if Shadow Weaver’s words infiltrated her head. They might have destroyed Adora and Catra’s relationship for good. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.

Unfortunately, Adora did not know that someone was eavesdropping just around the corner and that someone happened to be Catra.

* * *

To say that Catra’s emotions were running high was the understatement of the century.

After overhearing Shadow Weaver and Adora’s conversation minutes earlier, she had no idea what to think. Nothing Adora said surprised Catra—Adora’s priority would always be saving Etheria, even if the price was Adora’s happiness.

But at the same time, a glimmer of hope sparkled inside Catra. She didn’t want to think stupidly, but she heard Adora stand up to Shadow Weaver. Adora wasn’t interested in following Shadow Weaver’s advice. Maybe, just maybe, Adora loved Catra enough (even if it was platonically) to choose her over Etheria. Still, Catra shivered, thinking of Adora listening to Shadow Weaver. Of Adora deciding that Catra wasn’t worth it. The insecurities that stirred inside Catra didn’t make her confident that Adora would choose her, either.

“Someone needs to go inside and… accept the Failsafe? What does that mean?”

“It means the failsafe must be bonded to a willing soul and carried to the Heart of Etheria in their body to be deployed.” Shadow Weaver’s words sent chills down Catra’s spine. Something about that didn’t seem right. Shadow Weaver made the task sound simple despite the considerable risk, and Catra was sure there was more to the story.

“And we’re sure that’s… safe?” Bow asked skeptically.

“We can’t turn back now; the Failsafe is within our grasp!”

Catra was horrified to see Adora mindlessly approach the Failsafe. Of course, Adora didn’t think about the consequences of the situation, but Catra did. There was something off about Shadow Weaver’s desperation, and it made Catra’s stomach curdle.

After a split-second decision, Catra lunged toward Adora, grabbing her arm. “Adora, don’t go in there.”

“Catra, this is not the time; someone must take the Failsafe.”

“So, you do it then.” Catra’s suspicions about Shadow Weaver lying only grew with the deafening silence. “I’ve been watching you the whole way in,” Catra began, pulling Adora away from the Failsafe. “You’ve been in here before, haven’t you? You could’ve taken the Failsafe yourself and gotten all of the power you’ve ever wanted. But you didn’t. Why?”

“You’re being paranoid. This is the only way to stop Prime; Adora understands that well enough.”

Catra blocked Shadow Weaver from approaching Adora. There was no way she would let Shadow Weaver anywhere near Adora until Catra learned the truth, even if that meant Shadow Weaver would attack her. “Why does it have to be Adora? What is going to happen to her? What aren’t you telling us?”

Shadow Weaver backed away without answering. The longer Shadow Weaver remained silent, the more nervous Catra became. If it weren’t bad, then Shadow Weaver would have no problem coming clean. However, now her cover was blown, and she was still trying to conceal it. Whatever Shadow Weaver was hiding was not good at all.

“Answer the question,” Castaspella demanded, while Melog growled.

“Whoever uses the Failsafe must absorb the full magic of the Heart when it is destroyed. That much raw magical power would burn any mere mortal apart. None of us are strong enough.”

“But She-Ra is.”

Catra turned when Adora uttered those words. Catra wouldn’t let Shadow Weaver manipulate Adora into doing this. The Failsafe could still burn She-Ra, and Catra was unwilling to risk Adora’s life, even if it cost Etheria.

“Only She-Ra can hope to survive the process; no one else can do it.”

“And if I don’t survive it?”

“Then the magic will be restored to Etheria through your sacrifice. You will give us the power to bring us to victory. Prime will be defeated; your friends will be free.”

Catra was sickened by the way Shadow Weaver held Adora’s face. It was another manipulative tactic, but Catra would not let Shadow Weaver win. She would not allow Adora to sacrifice herself for Shadow Weaver; it wasn’t an option. Catra gasped as she watched Adora seriously contemplate this garbage.

All at once, everyone began shouting, their arguments becoming static noise in Adora’s head. She couldn’t think clearly when everyone attacked each other, but she had a feeling that it didn’t matter, anyway. She knew what she was going to do the minute Shadow Weaver revealed the truth. “Stop it!” Adora screamed, effectively silencing everyone. She turned to her friends. “I’ll do it.”

Adora’s impending decision weighed heavily on Catra’s heart as she realized the consequences of whatever her friend decided. If Catra convinced Adora to turn away from the Failsafe, Adora valued her own life and happiness just as much as she valued saving Etheria. But if she didn’t, then Catra knew Adora would never choose Catra over sacrificing herself, even if she loved her. Catra wasn’t sure what was worse: Adora not loving her back, or Adora loving her but not enough to live.

“No! What? What’s wrong with you?!” Catra ran to Adora, desperately pulling on her lapels once she was close enough. “Shadow Weaver is sacrificing you, why can’t you see that?!”

“Because even if she is, it’s better than Prime getting the Heart and destroying the universe! We’re out of options. This is the only way.”

Catra trembled at Adora’s words, but her friend steadied her. She always had, Catra thought bittersweetly. Adora was always a calming, peaceful presence in whatever chaos that surrounded me. My life is meaningless without her.

Just then, Micah and a few sorcerers burst into the room and attacked the group. Micah aimed at Adora, and Catra helplessly watched as Adora threw her out of harm’s way just as Micah trapped Adora in magical rope.

“Adora!” Catra cried as she raced on Melog’s back, desperate to free her friend. Soon enough, both Catra and Melog were swept into battle.

Adora watched her friends fight the sorcerers, crying out in horror as Glimmer’s father attacked his own daughter. She didn’t believe she could transform into She-Ra, but she had to try. “For the honor of Grayskull!” Adora cried to no avail. “No,” she whispered to herself.

“We have to get out of here!” Bow shouted.

“The Failsafe! We can’t!” Shadow Weaver cried desperately.

Adora had moments to decide what to do, but she had already made her choice. She turned back and headed to the Failsafe.

Catra was busy fighting, but she saw Adora approach the Failsafe from the corner of her eye. “Adora, no! Please, it doesn’t always have to be you.”

Adora looked at Catra one more time, silently communicating her goodbyes. Once she had the Failsafe, Adora would seal her destiny, effectively erasing any chance of a future with Catra. Then, she ran toward the Failsafe before she changed her mind.

“Adora!” Catra wailed, attempting to run after her. However, a sorcerer zapped her back, causing Catra to fall. She was too late.

Adora screamed in agony as she absorbed the Failsafe. She looked toward her friends, horrified to see that Micah tethered them to the ground with dark magic. Now, Adora was far past anger. She wouldn’t let anyone under Prime hurt her friends anymore.

“For the honor of Grayskull.”

For the first time in a while, Adora transformed into She-Ra. She immediately freed her friends from Micah’s magic and used her own to trap him and the other sorcerers. Then, she ran toward Catra. “I’ve got it, I’ve got the failsafe, let’s get out of here.”

Catra stared at the magical object in Adora’s chest with tears in her eyes. She felt hurt, betrayed, and angry. What was the point of jumping through fire for Adora if she would kill herself anyway? She would never do the same for Catra, but she would sacrifice herself for Etheria without a second thought. Catra should have known better, but Adora’s choice was the final straw. She couldn’t hang around and watch the love of her life die.

So, Catra ran out of the room with Melog by her side, attempting to distance herself from Adora as much as she could.

* * *

Later that evening, everyone had succumbed to sleep from the exhausting day they had. Well, almost everyone.

Catra sat on a box next to her mattress as she watched Adora sleep, the Failsafe plugged into her chest. God, Catra hated looking at that thing. It was a cruel reminder that Adora would never choose her in any scenario, no matter what happened.

Catra hopped off the box and grabbed the backpack she prepared earlier. Then, she left without hesitating or looking back. She paused for a moment when she heard Melog’s cries, but Catra knew she couldn’t stay. It hurt too much, knowing that she would never be enough for Adora. It would hurt for the rest of her life, but maybe the pain would numb if she was hundreds of miles away from Adora.

Moments later, Adora woke up. Instinctively, she looked over at Catra’s mattress, but it was empty. Adora didn’t see Catra or Melog. “Catra,” she gasped, frantic with worry.

Outside of The Rebellion’s hideout, Catra walked with a purpose. Melog hadn’t stopped meowing, but Catra ignored them. She was determined to travel as far away as possible.

Unfortunately, Catra didn’t make it far enough before Adora called her. “Catra?”

Catra broke into a sprint, figuring it would be easier to run than face her feelings head-on. Melog followed.

“Catra, stop!” Adora shouted, going after her.

Catra realized that Adora would catch up, so she jumped onto a tree branch. Unfortunately, Adora caught up by then, and she pulled Catra to the ground.

Catra tried crawling away, but Adora latched onto her leg and dragged Catra underneath her. “You were just gonna leave?!”

“I’m doing you a favor,” Catra said, pushing Adora off. “I’m a distraction, right? Now, you can go save the world without having to worry about me confusing you.”

Adora’s heart broke as she realized Catra overheard her conversation with Shadow Weaver. “No, that’s not true! Don’t listen to Shadow Weaver; this isn’t about her!”

Catra finally managed to shove Adora hard enough, causing her to go flying. She knew Adora already made her decision, but naively, Catra thought if she put herself out there as an option, Adora might change her mind. “Why? Why are you like this? Why do you always have to sacrifice everything for everyone else? When do you get to choose? What do you want, Adora?”

Catra’s question completely surprised Adora. No one had ever asked her that before. Although deep down, she knew the answer, she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say anything because she had to save Etheria. Adora had to think of the greater good here. Besides, she was most likely going to die because of the Failsafe. “I… I have to do this, Catra. I’m the only one who can.”

Catra’s heart tore into a thousand pieces. She already knew Adora’s answer, but it still brought her pain she only dreamed about beforehand. Catra never wanted to feel like that again, and the best way to avoid that pain was to leave. Catra wiped her tears and looked away. “Then do it. That’s what you want; that’s what you’ll always choose. I don’t have to stay and watch it happen.”

“Catra, please, stay. I need you.”

Catra saw Adora begging on her knees out of the corner of her eye, but she felt so dead inside that she couldn’t care less. She had to protect her own heart at some point, and Adora seemed desperate enough to say anything at the moment. Adora was just fine these last few years without Catra, and Adora’s life wouldn’t change no matter what Catra decided. “No, you don’t. You never have.”

Then, Melog shielded Catra with an invisibility cloak, leaving Adora to stare at an empty Whispering Woods.

Adora knew Catra was already gone, but she cried out for her one last time. She knew Catra wasn’t coming back, but Adora had to grieve for her lost love.

The love that could have been in another life. Maybe if Adora hadn’t left the Horde, they could be ruling Etheria side by side. Maybe if Adora was never She-Ra. Or maybe if Adora refused the Failsafe, letting herself be selfish for once in her life.

Adora thought about the possibilities, alternate universes where she was happy with Catra. She wondered what they were like. Did they live in Bright Moon’s palace? Were they on their own, moving every few days as wanderers with nothing but a few scraps of food and each other? Or maybe they were in each other’s arms as Etheria crumbled into pieces. They would be smithereens in seconds, but it didn’t matter because they would die together. Together, like it should have always been.

However, pondering on these scenarios was useless. Adora could think and dream all she wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that none of it would ever happen, because, in this life, Adora and Catra weren’t together. In this life, they were more alone than either of them ever was before. And in this life, despite growing up together, Adora didn’t have enough time to memorize Catra’s face before she left. Adora thought that there could never be enough time in the world for that.

So, Adora and Catra prepared themselves to spend the rest of their lives wondering about their great love. A love that could have reached the stars, conquered universes, and ignited magic, if given a chance to bloom. But like a neglected flower, their love wilted and withered to dust.

—

S05E12 Heart Part 1

Catra sat on Melog’s back as they sprinted through the Whispering Woods, running further away from The Rebellion’s hideout. Further away from Adora.

She pondered on the last conversation she had with Adora. Catra was as straightforward as she could be, and it hurt more than any pain Prime could inflict when Adora let her down. Adora was so busy sacrificing herself that she never even thought about what she wanted. And based on her final answer, Catra knew she would never be enough. Catra would not spend the rest of her life being second best to life-threatening situations. Adora would rather jump head-first into death's grip than be with Catra.

Well, Catra would not accept it, but that did not mean she wanted to leave. She just felt that it was her only option. Still, Catra looked behind her and wondered whether or not she did the right thing.

Melog must have sensed something was wrong because they suddenly screeched to a halt, throwing Catra on the ground.

“Ow! What’s wrong with you?”

Melog stood in front of Catra, meowing.

“Stop it. Stop it!” She pushed them away. “I told you, I’m not going back.”

Melog growled lowly and pinned Catra to the ground. Tears escaped her eyes, and she was frustrated with Melog insistence to turn back. “You saw what happened! Adora chose Shadow Weaver, okay?! Not me! Adora doesn’t want me!” Catra lowered her voice and looked away. “Not like I want her.”

Melog comforted Catra by licking her cheek, and Catra sat up and hugged them. They stood still for a few moments, and Catra was glad that she had someone to lean on in tough times, even if that someone happened to be a magical cat.

Suddenly, Catra heard footsteps approaching. Melog shielded them with invisibility, just to be safe. It was a good thing they did because moments later, a Horde soldier appeared. Catra thought it was strange for a random soldier to be walking alone in the Whispering Woods, especially with such purpose. A split second later, she decided to follow.

Catra followed the Horde soldier to a giant outpost. She looked down and gasped, recognizing First Ones’ writing. Then, she looked up and gasped again at a giant machine surrounded by dozens of clones. It was a lot to take in, and Catra’s heart sank as she realized that Horde Prime was planning something big, something that would destroy everything in its wake if given a chance. Whatever Prime had in store would probably ruin Etheria forever.

After almost getting caught by the real Hordak, Catra hid behind a rock and listened carefully. Horde Prime channeled Hordak’s body to speak to his army. “My brothers. The time has come at last. No longer shall She-Ra stand in my way. The Heart shall be laid bare, its power mine for the taking.”

When the surrounding clones began chanting, Catra realized in horror that Horde Prime discovered the Heart, and he found a way to activate it without She-Ra. He was taking the Heart for himself. It was only a matter of time before Prime destroyed Etheria.

Catra watched the First Ones' writing on the ground light up a sickeningly neon green as it traveled through the Whispering Woods. “Adora,” Catra said, realizing that Adora had no idea what was happening. Regardless of Catra’s pain, she had to warn her friend, at least. Catra couldn’t just abandon her, no matter how many times Adora hurt her.

Catra wondered if this was what unconditional love was like—suffering the most unimaginable pain but willing to drop everything just to help the person you loved. Catra always imagined that real love would be all chaos and passion, but these emotions did not feel like that. Unconditional love felt different—it reminded Catra of the first time she saw Etheria after being in space for months. The love Catra felt for Adora saw no end, even though she didn’t think she would see Adora again. Their love was infinite, just like the stars in the sky and galaxies in the universe.

So, without wasting another minute, Catra knew what she had to do. “We have to warn Adora!” She cried, swinging a leg over Melog’s back as Melog broke into a run.

* * *

“It’s okay, Adora. We’ll be with you the whole way, and when we get back, it’ll be a whole new world.”

Adora bit her tongue and looked down, opting not to say anything. She would break her own heart if she destroyed Bow's optimism. These were potentially the last few moments she had with her friends, and Adora wanted them to be memorable. She knew there was no going back for her. This was the end of the line.

Suddenly, Adora heard a familiar laugh. She gasped and looked up, fully alert. “Did you guys hear that?”

“What?” Glimmer asked.

Adora would recognize that laugh anywhere, under any circumstance. She always knew what Catra's laugh sounded like, even when they were enemies. A spark of hope ignited inside Adora's chest. Had Catra come back after all? “Catra?” Adora called, jogging toward the source of the noise.

Adora turned the corner, and lo and behold; there was Catra. “Hey, Adora.”

Adora felt tears of sheer joy prickle her eyes. “Catra, you came—“

“Adora!” Bow interrupted, forcing Adora to look away.

When Adora turned back, multiple versions of Catra walked toward her. When simulated Catra reached Adora, she pressed her forehead against hers. Adora knew it wasn’t real, but she could not help herself—she smiled and leaned into Catra’s touch. However, in a blink, Catra was gone. It was like Adora had dreamt the whole thing.

“You’re going the wrong way; the trail is back here.” Bow said, suddenly appearing with Glimmer. “You okay?”

Without looking at her friends, Adora spoke. “We need to be careful. It looks like this place can still project memories,” she said, collecting herself to face her friends. “We can’t let it distract us,” Adora said, whisking past Bow and Glimmer.

Bow and Glimmer could tell Adora saw something hurtful. Adora only confirmed their suspicions when she briefly lost control of She-Ra. However, Bow and Glimmer knew if they brought it up, Adora would brush it off. Adora would insist that it wasn't a big deal even though she was dealing with a fresh heartache while attempting to save Etheria at the same time.

Bow and Glimmer knew their friend was in a lot of pain, but at the moment, there was nothing they could do. It was not like Glimmer could teleport Catra—none of them had any idea where she went. So, Bow and Glimmer followed Adora, vowing to be there for her in every way they could.

* * *

After running for what felt like forever, Catra made it back to the hideout, panting furiously. “Adora! Adora!”

Someone else answered instead. “She’s not here,” Shadow Weaver said.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s not here’? Where is she!”

Shadow Weaver stood and approached Catra. “She’s gone to the Heart of Etheria to free the magic and become the hero she was born to be. If you are still so selfish as to try and stop—”

Catra furiously grabbed Shadow Weaver’s lapels. “ENOUGH! This isn’t about you and your messed up power trip anymore. Prime is doing something to the planet. He’s… infecting it. He’s going for the Heart.”

Shadow Weaver processed the information, but before she could respond, they heard a noise. They both went outside and saw a giant hologram of Horde Prime in the sky.

“Rejoice, Etheria, for your day of reckoning has come. I offered you mercy, but you have spurned my good graces. So be it.”

Prime dragged Entrapta to his side, using her hair. Entrapta was crying. “I’m sorry.”

Catra grew furious by the minute. She had no idea what The Rebellion initially planned, but if Prime captured Entrapta, things weren't going well. She had to get to Adora, no matter what Prime said. “Your resistance has been for naught; your She-Ra has abandoned you. All that is left for your world is a terrible and eternal night.” Then, the hologram flickered off.

Catra turned to Shadow Weaver, panicking. “Take us to Adora now!”

“She’s too far away by now; we’d never reach her in time!”

“No. Use your magic; I know you have more power than you’re letting on.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Catra.”

“You’ve done it before! When you—you abandoned me in the Fright Zone, and you’ve always been able to track us our whole lives, so do something good with it for once and help me save Adora before it’s too late!” Catra cried desperately.

Shadow Weaver reached for something in her pocket. Catra thought Shadow Weaver would pull out a weapon, so she was surprised when Shadow Weaver presented an unidentified object. She held out her hand to Catra. “Come here.”

Catra’s eyes widened in shock. She could not believe her speech worked since it was so unlike Shadow Weaver to be selfless, especially at the risk of injuring herself. However, there was no time to dwell on that now, so Catra grabbed Shadow Weaver’s hand.

Within moments, they were in the middle of the First Ones' citadel, standing in front of Bow and Glimmer.

“Catra?” Bow asked, bewildered.

Catra ignored him, latching onto Glimmer’s shoulders instead. “Where’s Adora?!”

Glimmer had tears in her eyes. “She… she left us. She’s headed to the Heart on her own.”

“Of course she’s gone! That’s what she does, isn’t it?” Catra screeched hysterically.

They were interrupted by a crumbling sound above their heads.

“Catra, what is going on?” Bow asked.

“Horde Prime is onto you. He’s—he’s hacking the planet. All of this… is from him.”

Bow and Glimmer looked at each other knowingly. “He’s gonna take the Heart,” Bow said.

“That’s not all. He’s got Entrapta,” Catra said.

“If Prime has Entrapta, that means the other princesses are still chipped. We have to get back up there,” Bow said.

“We can’t just leave Adora,” Glimmer cried.

“I’ll stay. I’ll find her.” Catra was surprised that those words came out of her mouth, but there was no turning back. The unconditional love Catra held for Adora in her heart was strong and unwavering; it would not let Catra abandon Adora, even if she wanted to.

“Catra…” Glimmer began.

“I can’t lose her again, okay!” Catra cried. Then, she looked down, preparing herself for what she was about to say. Catra was scared, but Bow and Glimmer had to understand just how much Adora meant to her. “I promised her a long time ago that I’d look out for her. It’s time I made good on that.”

Bow and Glimmer stood still for a few moments. Catra’s feelings were unspoken, but they knew. Catra suspected that Glimmer knew the second Catra sacrificed herself for the princess, while Bow caught on during Adora and Catra’s reunion. However, neither Bow nor Glimmer felt the need to say anything. Adora and Catra’s love was so powerful that they could go the rest of their lives without confessing, and their love would still be crystal clear. Part of Bow thought Adora and Catra’s love was always like that, even when they fought on opposite sides.

Adora and Catra’s love gave Glimmer so much hope, and she felt privileged to witness how much they cared for each other. Glimmer thought about how lucky you had to be to have someone like that, but Glimmer suspected she had that person right in front of her. Adora and Catra’s love was so inspiring that Glimmer was seriously considering confessing her own feelings. She briefly thought of Bow before she smiled and threw her arms around Catra. “Take care of her, Horde scum.”

All three of them knew that Glimmer meant that in more ways than one. Catra returned the hug. “That’s the plan, Sparkles. And… good luck.”

Bow put his arms around Catra and Glimmer. “The four of us don’t need luck. We’re the Best Friends Squad.”

As Bow hugged them tightly, Catra realized that for the first time, she believed it.

* * *

When Adora opened her eyes, she stood on a cliff overlooking Etheria. This was not an Etheria she knew. It must be what Etheria looked like with magic. Adora was sure she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

Despite the breathtaking view, Adora could have never missed the person that came up to her side. Mara.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Adora spoke. “I’m going to save Etheria, no matter what it takes. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain, I promise.”

“But at what cost?”

Of all the things Mara could have said, Adora certainly wasn’t expecting that. She gasped and looked at Mara.

“I never wanted to die. I sacrificed myself, so you would never have to. Why are you doing this, Adora?”

“It’s better this way. My friends will be safe; they’ll be happy.”

Mara cupped Adora’s face. “And you? What do you want when this is all over?”

“I…” Adora trailed off, at a loss for words. Secretly, she knew the answer to that; she always had. If Adora could, she would choose Catra in a heartbeat. But Adora also knew that there was no way they could beat Prime if she didn't sacrifice herself. How Adora admit what she wanted? That would be incredibly selfish of her, and she couldn't bear that.

Adora remembered what Catra asked her before she ran off. When do you get to choose? What do you want, Adora? God, Adora wanted. If she could, she would spend the rest of her life showing Catra that all she wanted was her. But it was in Adora’s blood and bones to be selfless—it was just how she was built. She wished things could be different, but her wants and needs did not matter when Etheria was at stake. “It doesn’t matter. I’m She-Ra, this is what I’m supposed to do.”

Just then, the simulation glitched, and Adora recognized that something was wrong. They must be out of time. Mara held her hands. “You’re worth more than what you can give to other people. You deserve love, too.”

Tears brimmed in Adora’s eyes. This was Mara telling her that she was worthy enough to find her own love. It meant more than it could have from anyone else. Adora dared to hope that maybe this battle would not end in her death. Perhaps she would survive and tell Catra how she felt.

“You’re so close, Adora. Don’t give up yet.”

Adora nervously backed away as the entire simulation turned green. “Mara? What’s—”

“Ah.” Adora’s heart sank as she recognized the voice. She turned around. “Adora. So this is where you’ve run to hide.”

Adora instantly forgot all about what Mara said, consumed with the need to protect and die for Etheria once again.

—

S05E13 Heart Part 2

This was it. This was the end.

Adora clutched her side in agony. She panted as beads of sweat trickled down her face. Adora could not believe that she was about to lose to a creepy monster she could take out in her sleep if she was She-Ra.

Keyword: if. Adora was gravely injured and unable to transform back into She-Ra. She thought she would die by activating the Failsafe, but dying on the ground in unbearable pain? Handed to a monster on a silver platter like she was the main course of his meal? It was not worth it. None of this was worth it. Letting Catra go was not worth it. However, there was nothing Adora could do because she was still about to die at the hands of some weird squid, and Catra would never know how much Adora loved her.

It was safe to say Adora’s day was going terribly.

Suddenly, Adora heard a growl. She looked up and saw Catra charge at the creature, landing on her feet just a few meters away. “Hey, Adora,” Catra said, out of breath.

“Catra! You can’t be here; it’s too dangerous!” Adora tried to move, but she tripped. Right into Shadow Weaver’s arms. “Shadow Weaver?”

Adora was shocked at the twist of events, but she wasn't unhappy. Shadow Weaver’s presence bewildered her, but Catra’s? Adora broke Catra’s heart beyond repair, and Catra still came back to save her. Catra came back for her. Adora tried to stifle her singing heart as she realized how much she loved her best friend.

“Get Adora to the Heart, I’ll take care of this thing,” Catra said.

“Catra, no!” Adora cried. She was not okay with that plan.

Catra’s stern gaze softened when she turned to Adora. “I’ll catch up, okay? Get to the Heart.” However, nobody in the room—not Catra, Shadow Weaver, or Adora herself—believed her words.

Shadow Weaver pulled Adora away despite her protests. “No, no. Catra!”

But Catra was too busy fighting the monster to hear Adora wailing.

* * *

Catra managed to knock down the monster, but she barely caught her breath before the First Ones' writing on the floor lit up neon green. She knew what that meant—Horde Prime was here. She had to get to Adora and warn her before anything happened.

As soon as Catra ran into the tunnel that Adora and Shadow Weaver entered minutes earlier, she heard a familiar cackle. Her heart sank, and her stomach twisted in knots as a hologram of Horde Prime appeared.

“Oh, little sister. What a shame. I had such high hopes for you.”

Catra would not show Prime how terrified she was. She would not fall under his spell, or anyone else’s, ever again. She would not succumb to his manipulation, even if she knew he could destroy her with a flick of his hand.

Unfortunately, Catra did not realize the only reason Prime appeared was to distract her. The monster got up and wrapped a tentacle around Catra’s ankle. Catra screamed, feeling stupid that she fell for another one of Horde Prime’s tricks, despite promising herself she wouldn’t. But Catra did not realize she screamed so loud that the cavern shook down the tunnel to Adora and Shadow Weaver.

Adora’s skin prickled. Catra was in trouble. She had to go back. “No. No, wait.”

“Don’t lose your focus, we’re so close,” Shadow Weaver said.

Shadow Weaver and Adora reached a glowing orb. The Heart of Etheria. However, Adora could not concentrate because of the sharp pain in her hip, a cruel reminder that she let Catra take the fall when Adora should have died. Adora shouldn’t have left. Since when did she let her friends die for her, anyway? She could not hand over the Failsafe without Catra, and Catra’s screams only solidified that.

Adora heard Catra howl again, and Adora suddenly didn't care if she died stumbling on her way back to Catra—she had to save her. Adora was supposed to die at the monster's hands, not Catra. Adora would never forgive herself if Catra died in her place. Groaning in agony, Adora put one foot in front of the other, retracing her path to Catra. It was ironic—no matter what Adora did, all roads led back to Catra.

“Adora, wait!” Shadow Weaver cried, but Adora ignored her.

Meanwhile, the monster used its leverage to drag Catra toward him. She tried using her nails to hold her ground, but it was pointless. All they did was screech uncomfortably loud across the floor, leaving claw marks.

Prime ruthlessly taunted her. “So brave risking yourself for Adora, but it will make no difference. The Heart is almost mine, and when it is, your Adora will die.”

Catra’s eyes widened, realizing she tried her best, but it was not enough. The monster flung Catra into the air and dangled her. Then, he dragged Catra dangerously close to his jaw.

“So tell me, little sister, was it worth it?”

Catra closed her eyes, refusing to answer. She knew this was the end, but she would not give Prime any satisfaction. Tears stung her eyes as she faced death head-on. In any other moment, Catra would chastise herself for fearing death, something she thought she would never be afraid of. But when was the last time she was this close to the end? When Hordak planned to torture her in front of other Horde soldiers? At the time, Catra was devoid of any emotion. She was alone, and nothing mattered to her. But now? Catra thought she had lost everything when she left Adora, but she had built a life for herself. She had real friends. She had Melog. This time, Catra was bursting with love instead of wallowing in bitter hollowness. Now, she was afraid to die because she had so much left to say, but her words would die on her lips as Prime’s monster swallowed her whole.

Catra waited for the inevitable, but a spark of black magic zapped the monster’s jaw, forcing him to release Catra. She tumbled to the floor and landed with a thud.

Catra looked up. She was stunned to see who it was. “Shadow Weaver?”

“Take Adora and run!”

Catra watched as Shadow Weaver cast spells at the monster. Catra stood up, but she did not move, wholly mesmerized by Shadow Weaver’s rescue. “What are you—”

“I told you to run! Now run!” Shadow Weaver shrieked, using magic to send Catra down the tunnel.

Catra was out of her mind. She was absolutely out of her mind. Here was her former abuser, a person who inflicted the most pain on her (other than Horde Prime), ready to sacrifice herself. Catra couldn’t just leave her, no matter how badly Shadow Weaver had hurt her. Catra stood up, but Shadow Weaver ignited a transparent wall at the tunnel’s entrance before Catra could do anything. She banged on the wall hysterically. “Shadow Weaver, no! What are you doing?!”

“Please, Catra. You need to make sure Adora reaches the Heart. The magic must be set free.”

Catra only watched as the monster freed himself from Shadow Weaver’s magic and fought against her. “Stop it; it’s going to kill you!”

“It’s too late for me. But you… this is only the beginning for you. I am so proud of you, Catra.”

Before that moment, if anyone had told Catra that Shadow Weaver would swoop in at Catra’s deathbed, save her, and sacrifice herself, Catra would have laughed. Shadow Weaver? Saving Catra while sacrificing herself? Catra expected Perfuma to stop believing in love before that happened. And Shadow Weaver telling Catra how she was proud of her? This had to be some crazy, wacky dream because nothing made sense. Catra owed absolutely nothing to Shadow Weaver, but hearing Shadow Weaver's words made Catra desperate to do something. With tears in her eyes, Catra wailed, “No! No!”

Catra raised her fist to break through the blockade, but someone’s hand stopped her. “Catra?” Adora croaked.

Catra looked at Adora, acknowledging her presence, before turning back to Shadow Weaver one last time.

In elated horror, Adora and Catra watched Shadow Weaver sacrifice herself to save their lives. After Shadow Weaver and the monster vanished, Adora and Catra remained silent as they absorbed what happened. Catra slowly began to accept that she couldn’t have done anything, despite tears streaming down her face. At that moment, she knew that she would never have the heart to forgive Shadow Weaver, but Catra was thankful for her former abuser’s last act being one of bravery and heroism.

Adora burst into tears, completely shocked. Just minutes earlier, she was walking down the tunnel with Shadow Weaver. Adora still despised her, but the last thing she expected was Shadow Weaver to die for them. Honestly, Adora expected Shadow Weaver to backstab The Rebellion and take the Heart for herself before this. Adora cried because of the shocking twist of events and because she might have been secretly relieved that Shadow Weaver died instead of Catra. No, she was definitely relieved.

Eventually, Catra placed a hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Come on. We have to go.”

Adora and Catra shared a glance, knowing they couldn't waste any more time. Adora stood and hugged Catra instead of saying what she wanted to say. You came back for me. I’m happy that it wasn’t you that died at the monster’s hands. I could not think of any other person I’d rather reach the Heart of Etheria with than you. Maybe if Adora managed to live after all this was over, she would tell Catra everything she felt, but for now, they simply hugged and staggered down the tunnel together, holding each other the whole way through.

* * *

Catra quickly realized that Adora was still in a lot of pain because of her injury, so she steadily held her friend while they walked toward the Heart. Adora caught Catra’s eye, and as usual, Catra stared at her like there was nobody else in the world. At that moment, there truly wasn’t anyone else.

Before Adora and Catra knew it, a glowing object appeared in front of them. They finally reached the Heart, and they both gasped in awe.

“The Heart of Etheria. We made it,” Adora said.

Adora approached the center of the platform, ready to transform into She-Ra to unleash the Heart’s magic. However, as she attempted to channel She-Ra, the pain in her hip worsened considerably. Instead of a dull, throbbing ache, Adora felt like someone was butchering her alive. She screamed as glowing green lines filled her skin.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Catra asked, catching a stumbling Adora.

“I don’t—I don’t know. I can’t transform.” The Heart shook around them. “It’s Prime’s virus; it’s keeping me from becoming She-Ra.”

“What does that mean? Is the failsafe not going to work without her?” Catra asked, although considering that she dreaded the answer, Catra had a feeling she knew what Adora would say.

Adora looked down at her chest, where the Failsafe glowed. She was not upset since she always knew it would come down to this. However, Adora’s heart did twinge in disappointment because she would not live the life Mara wanted her to live. “No, it’ll work.” She paused, then looked at Catra. “Get as far away from here as you can. I have to do this next part on my own.”

“Adora, what is going to happen to you?” Catra demanded.

Adora walked away. “Without She-Ra, the magic will destroy me. I’m sorry, Catra. I’m so sorry. But there’s no more time. It has to end here. I can still save everybody.” Adora approached Catra again, placing her hands on Catra’s head and pressing her forehead against hers. Adora felt idiotic for thinking that a simulated Catra could ever be real. Pressing her forehead against a fake Catra's was nothing compared to the real thing. “It’s okay. I’m ready.”

Catra would not accept Adora’s fate. Well, maybe she didn’t have a choice, but Catra could choose to be there for Adora every step of the way. If Adora had to die, then she could spend her last moments with Catra. Somehow, Catra knew Adora would like that. Besides, this was better than running away with a broken heart. Long after Adora was gone, Catra knew she would be comforted by the fact that their last moments together would be in each other’s arms instead of intensely fighting with each other.

So, when Adora pulled away, Catra grabbed her hands. “No.”

“Catra…”

“No! I’m not leaving. Whatever happens, I am staying with you.”

Adora approached the center of the platform again, and Catra lightly held onto her arm. Catra knew that she would have to let go of Adora eventually, but she wasn’t ready yet. Then again, would Catra ever be prepared to let the love of her life die? There would never be a moment where Catra could confidently say, “let’s do this,” but she wanted to hold on for as long as she could.

Adora and Catra stared at the Heart of Etheria in silence. Suddenly, Adora fell back into Catra’s arms, screaming once again. Catra saw the Failsafe glitch in Adora’s chest, so she did not react in time to catch Adora before she collapsed on the ground.

“Adora?” Catra knelt beside Adora and gently turned her over. This was it. Adora was dying. She was really dying. Although Catra could not stop what was happening, she collected Adora in her arms and said, “No, no, no, no, no. No! No!”

As the Heart of Etheria beat louder, Catra looked up and saw Horde Prime’s infection consume the Heart. Moments later, green lightning spasmed, and Catra tightened her grip on Adora, shielding her from the bolt. After a few moments, she pulled away. “Adora? Adora, stay awake!”

Adora opened her eyes. She should have noticed the swirling green magic infecting the heart, but all she saw was her beloved Catra.

Catra had no idea what Adora stared at, so she looked up too. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, she looked back down at Adora, more confused than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Adora whispered as Catra cupped her face. Adora placed her hand on top of Catra’s.

“Adora!” Catra cried, pulling her close. “Adora!”

When Adora closed her eyes one last time, Catra’s screams were nothing but faint echoes wailing through the cavern walls.

* * *

When Adora opened her eyes, she gasped. Something felt off, but she could not figure out why. She looked at her reflection in a fancy water fountain while inspecting her outfit: a long, simple, and elegant white gown. Hair brushed back and styled. A piece of jewelry on her head. She looked like she was going to a ball.

Just then, the door opened. Glimmer and Catra burst in as Glimmer chased Catra, attempting to brush her hair. Adora noticed they were also dressed in ball clothing.

“Don’t let her touch me; she’s gonna torture me!” Catra cried playfully, using Adora as a shield.

“Do you always have to be this dramatic?” Glimmer asked, but she was smiling.

“Come on, guys!” A deep voice boomed. Adora turned just as Bow approached them. “If we’re late to Scorpia’s first ball, she’s gonna kill us.”

Bow wrapped his arm lovingly around Glimmer’s shoulder, and Glimmer leaned into his touch. “Fine! You’re off the hook. This time.”

Catra stuck out her tongue triumphantly. This banter was happening so fast, and Adora barely had time to process any of it. This scenario was all Adora wanted, but it seemed like it was a dream too good to be true. She was afraid that if she let her guard down, she would wake up.

Bow and Glimmer walked out shortly after that. Catra started following, but she turned back and held out her hand. “You coming?”

All of Adora’s concerns faded away when Catra offered her hand. She smiled and reached for it, but she was caught off guard when Adora’s hand fell right through Catra’s. A simulation. Of course. How could Adora not realize it before? She chastised herself for being so careless.

Adora watched as Catra transformed into Horde Prime, but she did not feel pressured to defend herself. Adora felt like everything was hopeless, and Prime’s words only confirmed that. “A beautiful wish. But there will be no future. Not for you.”

Adora did not know what to do, but it did not matter because Prime immediately wrapped a large ribbon around Adora, suffocating her. The ribbon was heavy, and it dragged her down into nothingness. Adora screamed, but the farther she fell, the more useless she felt. She closed her eyes, ready to give up until she heard a voice.

“Adora! Please! You have to wake up!” Catra cried desperately, standing in the light and holding out her hand.

Of course, Catra was not in the simulation, so through her eyes, Adora lay lifeless in her arms. “You can’t give up. You have never given up on anything in your life. Not even on me. So don’t you dare start now!”

Catra’s hand was so close that Adora almost felt warmth reverberating from it. Still, Catra seemed out of reach. Every time Adora inched forward, pain charged through her body, worsening with every attempt. Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s too late. I’ve failed.”

“No! No! I’ve got you, I’m not letting go,” Catra said, hugging Adora tightly. She did not even know where Adora’s consciousness lay or whether she was even alive, but Catra would not stop now. “Don’t you get it?! I love you. I always have. So please, just this once… stay.”

Adora felt too weak to portray her shock, but Catra’s words did give her enough energy for one final boost. Adora pushed herself up and grabbed Catra’s hand.

But Catra had no idea whether Adora heard her or not. She buried her face in Adora’s neck, praying with everything she had that Adora would live. “Stay.”

Catra did not care that the Heart was about to explode and that the world would crash over their heads. However, Catra turned her head once she heard something, followed by a bright light. She saw a brilliant rainbow transform into She-Ra’s shield. The shield vanished, but as Adora’s hand fell on Catra’s shoulder, Catra realized: Adora did that. Catra’s words made Adora shield them. They made Adora want to live. Maybe Adora had chosen Catra in the end, after all.

Adora opened her eyes and propped herself up. “You love me?”

Catra did not expect Adora to be surprised, so she chuckled. “You’re such an idiot.” Catra knew at that moment, even if Adora did not return her feelings (although Catra had an inkling she did), they would be okay, no matter what. But Adora confirmed Catra’s suspicions when she dopily smiled. Catra’s facial expression grew serious as her insides burst into confetti. Adora looked at Catra the same way Catra looked at Adora.

“I love you, too,” Adora finally said, as the Heart of Etheria beat steadily in the background.

Catra always thought that if this moment ever happened, she would shout from the rooftops: Adora loves me! While Catra still wanted to do that, Adora almost died moments before. Catra wanted to feel Adora’s breath on hers; she wanted to feel her best friend’s heart thump. So, Catra grinned, cupped Adora’s face, and kissed her.

And God, was it a kiss. Adora and Catra were so immersed in each other that they did not see the Failsafe glow and explode, disappearing from Adora’s chest. Once the Failsafe dissolved, a sea of flying colors engulfed them. But Adora and Catra did not feel the Heart of Etheria’s magic—they barely noticed it at all. Neither of them would ever think about it, but they did not see the Heart’s magic because they were too wrapped up in their own love, magic that they created. The Failsafe may have freed Etheria’s magic, but it did not activate itself. Adora and Catra’s pure unconditional love, as bright and as magical as any star in the sky, ignited the Failsafe. Only love, the purest of its kind, in any form, could set Etheria’s magic free. After all, She-Ra came back to life because of Adora’s love for Catra. Now, the Heart released its magic because of the love they had for each other.

The rainbow surrounding Adora and Catra transformed into gold. Everything in the tunnel turned golden as Adora changed into She-Ra. Adora and Catra pulled away, and they both looked around, in awe of Etheria’s magic. They did it. They activated the Failsafe, unleashed the Heart, and restored magic to Etheria.

Adora wanted to stay in Catra’s embrace forever, but she knew she had some things to take care of first. She looked at Catra knowingly; then she stood and walked out of the citadel, golden beams of light reflecting on her.

As Adora walked, she witnessed the crumbling ground beneath her feet turn into fresh green grass. It never ceased to amaze Adora that within moments, the rest of Etheria would follow. She looked up at Horde Prime’s ship—now a brilliant gold—and used her sword to shoot magic toward it, transforming the vessel into a miniature forest. Next, Adora looked down and jammed She-Ra’s blade into the ground. Everyone watched as a golden wave swept away a dark and dreary Etheria.

Once the magic restored life to Etheria, Adora had one last thing to do. She approached Hordak, who Prime was still channeling. Whatever he said, Adora barely heard him, and more importantly, she did not care. She knelt and became face to face with Hordak-as-Prime. “No. You’re wrong. It’s time for you to go.”

So, Adora held Hordak’s face, using her magic to free Hordak and rid the world of Horde Prime once and for all.

* * *

Now that Adora restored Etheria’s magic and Horde Prime was gone for good, Catra had one last thing she had to do.

Scorpia was laughing with Perfuma, Emily, and Frosta, rejoicing the end of Prime’s reign. Catra nervously approached them, afraid of how Scorpia would react. Despite her fears, Catra wanted to apologize to Scorpia ever since she started becoming a better person.

When the princesses noticed Catra coming their way, they stopped laughing.

Catra gripped the back of her neck as her heart skipped several beats. “Hey, Scorpia. Look, I—”

Before Catra said anything, Scorpia scooped her up in her arms and hugged her.

“Oh, there it is,” Catra said. She felt like Scorpia was squeezing her to death, but Catra was secretly relieved that her friend forgave her. Once the celebrations cooled down, Catra would specifically apologize to Scorpia. Catra owed her friend accountability and respect, and she wanted to begin their renewed friendship with no skeletons in the closet. But for now, Scorpia understood that Catra was trying to apologize, which was enough for her.

“You know I’m a hugger.”

“Princess hug!” Perfuma suddenly cried, and she joined the embrace with Frosta. Now Catra definitely felt like the princesses were squashing her. It was never a position Catra thought she would be in, but here she was.

And there was (almost) nowhere else Catra would rather be.

* * *

As everyone caught up with each other, Adora approached a clearing. She saw all of Etheria from where she stood, and it was her first chance to relish in the planet’s beauty. Subconsciously, Adora transformed back into herself, knowing She-Ra would always be there whenever she needed her.

Adora was blown away at the amount of life that thrived on Etheria, especially since it happened so fast. Adora was so mesmerized by the view that she did not hear Catra approach. “Adora?”

Adora turned and held out her hand. It was still so hard to believe that she could put herself first for once and choose what she wanted, and she was elated that Catra wanted her, too. The two of them have come a long way—from growing up as best friends to becoming enemies, to reuniting, to becoming best friends again, to falling in love, and finally admitting their feelings to each other. It was surreal to Adora, and the best part was it wasn’t a dream. Loving Catra and being loved in return was the most real thing Adora felt in her life, and she could not wait to spend eternity with her best friend and soulmate.

Catra took Adora’s hand, and they pressed their foreheads together. “It’s over. He’s gone,” Adora said.

“Good riddance,” Catra agreed.

They stood still for a few moments, basking in Etheria’s warm glow. Then, Bow and Glimmer snuck up from behind and tackled them. The Best Friends Squad rolled down the hill, laughing together. When they slid to a stop, they had their arms around each other.

Bow propped himself up. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

Adora sighed and looked up at the glittering sky. “We can bring magic back to the universe. What do you guys say to one more Best Friends Squad road trip?” She said as they all stood.

“I’m in!” Glimmer cried.

“Obviously!” Bow agreed.

“Of course I’m going with you, dummy,” Catra said, playfully rolling her eyes.

Adora smiled at her friends and hugged them once again. She couldn’t wait to start the rest of their lives. “Then let’s do this. Together.”

#catradora #catradora fanfic #catradora fic #catradora fanfiction #spop fanfic #she ra fanfic #my writing #she ra #my drabbles #god i finally finished rip #i'm happy but also sad

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softbiker · 5 years

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Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: adult themes (but no explicit smut), sappy AF, death by affection and corny-ness

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: In which Bucky’s girl goes out with her friends, and comes home with some thoughts about their relationship. // I really just sat down and wrote this in like an hour, bc the thought just wouldn’t leave me, so I hope you enjoy it! As always, let me know what you think! (Also, I should put together a permanent taglist, so let me know if you’d like to be included)

Bucky is almost finished loading the dishwasher when he hears her come in. His extra-sensitive hearing tells him when she drops her keys in the dish by the door and toes off her shoes in the hallway. Her socked feet shuffle softly down the hall towards him, a smile creeping up his face.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hey, baby,” he replies, looking over his shoulder to smile at her. “How was brunch with the girls?”

“Oh, good. Really good,” she smiles back, though her eyes seem a little far away. “Let me go change and then I’ll tell you about it?”

“Ok, honey.”

“Oh, and thanks for doing dishes by the way!”

He’s done with the dishes when she comes back, dressed in pajama shorts and an old college t-shirt, fuzzy socks covering her perpetually cold toes. She perches on the arm of the couch, glancing at the screen of her phone for a moment before tossing it aside and giving him one of those classic inviting smiles. The kind he can’t resist - not that she has any smiles he can resist. Bucky wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and rounds the island, approaching her. When he’s within reach, she grabs his hand and tugs, directing him to sit on the couch, and swings herself around to drop into his lap.

“Hi,” he whispers, delight swimming in his eyes.

“Hi,” she says against his lips. He tilts his face up just a little, and she rewards him with a kiss.

She pulls away quickly, quicker than he would like, but she’s pouting in that thoughtful way she has, her fingers tucking his hair behind his ears, so he says nothing. Rubs her back and waits.

“Brunch was nice,” she says, finally. “Malia’s girlfriend proposed - we’re really happy for her, she’s so much better than the last girl she dated. You remember, the one that wouldn’t commit, and then it turned out she was talking to other people on Tinder.”

Bucky nods, humming a little. “That’s good, tell them congratulations for me.”

“Okay,” she smiles. Her silence comes back then, but it’s soft and open, a pause that he waits for her to fill. When she looks at him again, her eyes are wide and curious.

“Buck, do I appreciate you?”

He’s taken back a little - that was one of the last things he expected her to ask, right up there with “can Tony join us in a threesome”. Does she appreciate him? He has no idea how to answer, except for the obvious.

“Sweetheart, of course you do,” he frowns a little, squeezes her thigh in comfort. “Of course. Where is this coming from?”

She sighs, one hand going to the back of his neck to rub softly at the hair at his nape.

“It’s Lily...her husband,” she shakes her head. “They’re not doing well. She says that sometimes she just feels...invisible to him, like he doesn’t even notice her.” She sighs. “It’s been really hard. They’re just growing further and further apart and she doesn’t know what to do.”

She stops speaking for a moment, her mouth working and eyes shining a little.

“It’s just that-” her breath hitches a little bit. “I’ve been thinking about this all morning, you know, and it got me worried and - God, Bucky I don’t ever want to take you for granted.”

Oh. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. That’s what she’s so worked up about?

“Don’t gotta worry about that, sweet girl,” he shakes his head.

“But I want to - I want to tell you how I feel because, maybe I don’t say it enough. Or I don’t say it all the way.” She takes a deep breath, the hand that’s not stroking his hair coming around to cup his jaw, her thumb settling into the dimple on his chin. “You’re so good to me, Bucky Barnes. Really. You see me, and you chase me, and you have never made me feel invisible, not even once. You always tell me how much you love me, big and loud, and even when we’re fighting you never make me doubt how much you love me. And maybe this is all really, really corny…” her laugh is small and embarrassed, tucked into her shoulder. “But I...I never want you to, to not know just how much you mean to me. You’re it, Buck. You’re my everything.” She shrugs, finishing her speech with that little curl to her lips, the one that’s all sweetness and his heart is fit to burst and he’s-

He’s gripping her around the waist and shuffling their positions on the couch, pressing her down into the cushions and making himself at home on top of her. She gasps a little at the sudden reversal, both hands digging into his shoulders, that little smile turning mischievous. He presses his forehead against hers.

“You’re my everything, too,” he says, his voice low, before slanting his mouth over hers, sweet and firm at the same time. The stubble along his jaw prickles her cheek, but she locks her arms around his neck anyway, pulling him impossibly closer, not even air between their bodies. He feels her sigh into his mouth as his tongue slips into hers, and he pours all his passion into the embrace, his hands roaming and squeezing, truly unable to let her go.

When they break for air she’s laughing - and panting - her head falling back against the arm of the couch and he takes the opportunity to dive in for her neck. She sighs a little more, nearly moaning now at the feel, but a soft giggle slips through every so often.

“You know,” and he can just hear that smile in her voice, it’s the cheeky one now - “It’s always the sappy stuff that really gets you going, Barnes.”

His laugh is throaty and deep, shakes her own chest where they’re pressed together oh so tightly. She can feel his cheshire cat grin against her neck.

“Well, I’m a physical man, babydoll,” he says, his husky voice sending a shiver down her spine. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll say it back with my mouth between your legs.”

She giggles and her head turns, teeth tugging delicately at the shell of his ear.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes,” she whispers.

He’s grinning all the way as he shuffles down the couch, grinning into her stomach where her t-shirt has ridden up, grinning as his fingers curl into the waistband of her shorts. Grinning so wide he could split his own face because that smile he loves so much is all for him, and this - this is his, too.

He’s grinning the entire time he tells her how he loves her.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fic

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lunaraen · 4 years

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“Hearts are fickle things. They seem to break at the slightest shove. I’d much rather give mine away.” “Well, I wouldn’t mind having yours...” Magnus/Ellegaard? Am I doing this correctly? 😓 I’m so sorry if I’m not-

It feels like it's just the two of them on the roof, only the occasional noise coming from the new settlement below- little more than a camp but growing by the day with more and more followers eager to greet and behold their heroes- and the much closer trees as their branches sway in the wind. The moon hangs high in a clear sky colored by swirls of stars and brighter spots, ones that Ellegaard can name as specific planets.

(Nerd.)

It's wrong.

It's a storybook night meant for storybook heroes. The Order of the Stone.

(Who came up with that dumb name? Soren? Ellegaard?

Was it is his own drunken suggestion?)

It's a beautiful night in all the ways it shouldn't be, in all the ways it has no right to be, and Magnus internally curses the nice night as he passes Ellie the cigarette they've been sharing.

And if Ivor were still here, he'd make a stink about the cig, the way Ellegaard normally does. But Ivor isn't here, is he? That's the whole reason things are fucked up like they are, why they're hurting in all the wrong ways inside. Instead, Magnus is here, and he figures it's better the devil he knows, the sick taste of cigarettes and the lung damage that inevitably comes with it in place of the burn of whiskey and the spiral into one drunken blackout after another.

Besides, he and Ellie have a whole thing, banter wise, going on about cigarettes and smoking. She's less likely to slip into it as a habit and deal with actual damage than she is if he'd helped her drown her sorrows or whatever. They've done enough drinking, lately.

Never mind that getting drunk on a roof's a pretty good way to die stupidly.

(He's not helping her with that, either.)

So, here they are, hurting and smoking and staring up at the sky like it can keep whatever answers it has and shove the ones it doesn't.

It's the first time in weeks that Magnus has managed to really hang out with her again.

He's not great at comfort, but he can do shared bitterness. And if Ellegaard wants to get poetic, he'll listen, though even grief won't keep him from giving less poetic responses.

"Hearts are fickle things. They seem to break at the slightest shove. I’d much rather give mine away."

It's a whole lot of anguish, jaded and weary, that he's never heard in her voice before, despite all the other messes they've gotten into before, the less than stellar backgrounds they crawled out of.

(Not that he can’t relate to what she’s saying, because the desire to crawl off to some remote, desolate tower and stay there is strong.)

So Magnus does what he does best, blowing a smoke ring that wobbles and dissolves into the darker splotches of night when she hands him the cigarette and shrugging as he gives an offhand comment that's surprisingly hard not to mumble.

"Well, I wouldn’t mind having yours..."

There's a dumb thought that goes with that, something right out of Gabriel's latest speech to their adoring 'fans', embodying stupid chivalry and valor like it means something when it comes from people like them.

The dumb thought is that, if Magnus had her heart, he could at least try to keep it safe. He wants to keep all their hearts safe, like that's possible. Like they'd ever let him. He's a griefer who breaks things, time after time, but deep down he just wants to take the shards of their strained and broken friendships and fix them back up.

That's Ellie's job, though, fixing things up or making them useful.

Magnus wants chaos, because it's his nature, but the pain of the last few weeks has been nothing short of awful. It's change, sure, at what cost? This isn't fun change or his brand of hectic shenanigans, the kind Gabriel used to help him with while Ellegaard shrieked at their heels.

He wants to fix what they broke, but he's never been able to undo a TNT blast before. Now doesn't seem any different.

"Seriously?" She's looking at him, really looking at him in a way she hasn't since he got her up here. The raised eyebrow and disbelieving tone would make him more defensive if he hadn't been desperate for a response that wasn't entirely negative.

He offers her the smoke again, crushing the lit end against one of the roof's many carved stone edges when she shakes her head.

"I mean, yeah. You've already got mine."

And it's the truth, the exhausted truth at the heart of their years of bonding and bickering and living. Ivor leaving, Soren lying, (almost) all of them selling their souls for fame and glory- it's stripped back each and every layer of Magnus and his usual defenses. What's the point in denying it, when they're this close to losing whatever it is they've got?

"...you're sappy, tonight."

"'m tired." Tired of what? Winning nothing, losing everything? Because that's what's happened. Sure, technically they've got far more now than they ever could've had before, at the price of them getting all the credit for something they never did. It's an empty, shallow victory that burns in his throat and his chest. It came at the price of losing Ivor. Losing their snarky healer, their friend who was perhaps the most excited for their adventure and the most carefully prepared, hurts them as a team and cuts to the heart of who they are as friends.

Who they were as friends might be a better way to put it.

(It came at the price of all their friendships, really, who they are- who they used to be.

Gabe's been in a daze- who isn’t?- but he's stiffer too, formal in a way Magnus's fellow trouble maker never is. This new Gabriel’s somewhere between a warrior and a knight. The crowd loves him. Magnus just feels sicker listening to him, his speeches and his new habit of saying no to everything fun. Gabriel's chivalrous, sure, but he's also Magnus's friend, not this stressed out hollow shell with an empty smile and dramatic speeches for crowds spun from nothing but despair and grief.

It turns out that is who he is, now.

And if Gabe's in a daze, there's no real way to describe what's going on with Soren. Soren had his head in the clouds to start with. He’s gotten, forced, everything he’s ever wanted, except Ivor isn’t here to drag him from his room into the open. Everything they dreamed of is at their feet, minus the integrity. Soren, already running on no sleep and manic energy during that uneasy time after the Dragon was 'defeated' but before Ivor left, has shut himself away almost entirely.

Can't disappoint or lie to people you don't see or talk to.

Ellie too, because of course she squirreled herself away, because she and Soren are two sides of the same coin the way she and Ivor are- were. It’s worked just as well for her as it does for him. Even without Magnus's interference, she's been doing little more than slipping up and burning her own fingers on her machines. She stares out windows and mumbles nothing to an empty room. She'd still be in that room if Magnus hadn't managed to coax her onto the roof like this, the promise of familiar company better than hanging out with those in the camp under them.

There are other engineers here to talk to, now, but what's the point?

Magnus himself, well... he's partied, he's feasted, and he's hated himself all the more for it. He chose this over defending Ivor, he was the first to follow Soren’s lead and pick their pretty lie over the rusted truth. Magnus is the one who couldn’t even look Ivor in the eye. He'd like to think he's at least trying to have fun, being truer to himself that Gabriel is, but that doesn't mean he isn't sickened by every fake grin and overblown guffaw, every bit of fun at the unsuspecting crowd’s expense. It’s his worst prank yet.

They're coping, maybe, but it ain't healthy. None of this is.)

Ellegaard sighs, a curled lock of hair brushing against her cheek as the wind toys with it, the rest held back only by her goggles, and she’s so strikingly beautiful it hurts.

It just ain’t fair.

Still, she also sounds achingly drained, circles under her eyes as bold as he’s ever seen them.

"...so am I."

Nowhere to take the conversation from that, is there? That's what it all comes down to.

They’re washed up before they could ever really begin.

And if the conversation can't continue, then it's time to move things along before they do end up breaking out the alcohol. Magnus pushes himself to his feet with energy he doesn't have, stretching his arms above his head before cracking his neck the way Ellie usually hates.

The breeze picked up at some point, though hell if he knows when, and the stone roof's cold enough to have leeched all the warmth from his hands and his ass.

"Great. We might as well crash- I'm sick of staring at the big ol' empty."

This is, of course, Ellegaard's cue to lecture him on how beautifully vast and amazingly full space is, how it's hardly empty and that the hollowest space to crack jokes about is in his head.

She doesn't, but she does smile.

It's weak, but it's the first smile in at least a week that hasn't looked totally plastic.

On top of that, she hands him the mask he'd almost left on the roof, an easy victim for the breeze, and he's hardly thinking when he takes it in a balled up fist as they both slip back through the window they came onto the roof from.

(Not that he hasn’t been thinking about replacing this mask.

It’s almost half stitches now, the victim of all the repairs it’s needed since he first made it, back when they started out their training and the world looked so beautifully big and unknown.

...his later stitches are much better than the first few repairs, on account of Ivor showing him neater stitches and making Magnus practice them.

They work for skin and cloth, as it turns out.

That might be a little more important now, since they’re down a healer and Ivor was the one who kept inventory of the healing potions.)

The walk through the halls is almost peaceful, on account of it being short and the others hiding in their own rooms or making speeches outside or chasing after Endermen in an empty End or whatever they’re each doing (because whatever Soren and Gabriel are doing, they’re doing it alone and Magnus knows it), and Ellegaard’s shoulders are relaxed like they haven’t been in over a month.

So far, so decent.

He's no Ivor, but Magnus is still doing his best to fill in as the glue.

It's working better than he figured it would; griefers aren't meant to be the glue of anything, never mind horribly fractured friend groups.

And, hell, while he's patting his back for a job well done, Magnus'll take an extra second to preen about how surprisingly easy it was to get Ellie to crash in his room instead of hers, and, heck, he's even proud (and sad and confused and exhausted) about how his room is actually the healthier choice.

Going from the window to his room means they don’t pass Ivor’s door.

(The long shadows cast by the torches can’t be helped, gnarled into shapes that are almost human and hauntingly familiar against the stone bricks, fire and shadows alike wavering as the two of them walk by.)

In Magnus’s room, there aren't any machines for her to tinker with, none out in the open, anyway, to be obsessed over like there are in hers.

She can’t keep herself up all night doing nothing.

There aren't any pipes or wires to fuss over like her next invention will prove Ivor wrong or bring him back.

He's not even dead -probably- and it feels like they've lowered the casket already.

(Ivor's resourceful, practical, skilled, and alone. He can take care of himself just fine, fend for himself as he does who knows what with the treasures he bargained for, but he shouldn't have to.

None of them should.

Magnus thinks of an exhausted Ivor, holed up in a dirt hut somewhere or already dead in a ditch, and he shifts the arm around Ellie’s shoulders so it’s closer to a squeeze.

If he's got any say in this, cowardly as he is and weak-willed as he's been shown to be, it won't happen to the rest of them, drift apart as they may. He wants to be there for them, in this twisted lie they’ve trapped themselves in, be available even when he's busy with whatever chaos he and his followers cobble together.

Gods, he has followers now, fans who think the world of him.

He's gonna be sick.)

Magnus's armor is already kicked into a forgotten corner, left alone unless he's making an appearance for 'the public' that seemed to spring up overnight.

It’s his clumsiest way at trying to fix what he helped shatter. It hasn’t helped much; the others wear their armor more than ever and always around him, Ellegaard only taking hers off now to chuck it on top of his.

Falling into bed is easy, something from Before that isn't instantly painful or miserable, and so's peppering each other with kisses as they settle under the covers. It's easy to slip into the familiar position, her arms wrapped around him and her chin on his shoulder.

(Hey, it's not just because he's short.

Magnus is the damned best little spoon there's ever been.)

Ellie goes a step further than just silently settling into what's familiar, though, whispering in a voice that isn't pained as he cranes his neck to kiss her cheek.

"Thanks for holding onto my heart."

Fat lot of good it's doing either of them, with how much hers still hurts and how much it can still be hurt, but the thought has to count for something. She's kind enough to do the same for him.

"Yeah, well, don't go throwing mine around."

It means a lot, given how easy it ultimately was for them to chuck Ivor's away and turn their backs on him. Magnus still can't really believe that happened, or that anybody else in their group would be willing to do that to him, never mind brilliant Ellie- but here they are, short a healer, short a friend, and short on all the trust they'd had in spades before they entered the End, and Magnus would be a fool to not take the blame for being one of the first to toss all that. Why wouldn’t they turn on him after how quickly he turned on Ivor?

There's a spiky, prickly paranoia nestled in the back of his mind that wasn't there before, but he still trusts Ellegaard, and he means it when he silently promises himself he won't throw away whatever trust she's got left in him.

And for a minute, as they sink into sleep, it almost feels alright.

They're both stubborn people, and they've never been the types to give up on a challenge, even one that aches.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #Ellagnus #Anonymous

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