#had too many close calls though and my stance keeps being broken because I keep forgetting I have no stamina lmao

[poisonsword]

(SPOILERS!!!) NP fight that I'm so proud of!

Where's the 2nd phase, you might ask?

#pino is just angrily stabbing him #NP got its revenge in the 2nd phase lmao #My NG+ is just to get the other endings and I just fought NP again just for the heck of it #But it was fun really I really enjoyed it #had too many close calls though and my stance keeps being broken because I keep forgetting I have no stamina lmao #I just had to get the other ending aaaah #lies of p #lies of p spoiler

[absolutelyfizzing]

unwanted feelings

james potter x reader

description - You'd had a crush on James Potter for years and when he kisses Lily Evans in front of you, you are heart broken. Later you find that he didn't actually feel as you expected and he explains himself.

warnings - some angst, unsure reader, fem pronouns, self doubt, negative self talk, not eating for a day cause reader is avoiding someone

word count - 2800

A/N - so this one isn't my best work by far but i wrote it so looks like its getting posted. i don't know why all of my reader inserts lately are so fem and sort of bubbly, i guess it's sort of what i'm aiming for for myself right now but i'm sorry if it maybe isn't coming off as relatable.

MASTERLIST

Your throat tightened in anxiety as you watched James zoom around the pitch. He was reckless when he was playing quidditch and it was one of the things that made him great at the game and an excellent captain. It was also the thing that nearly gave you a heart attack every time you watched him play. You went to every one of his games and you always wore something of his with his colors when you were in the stands. You were stood up on your seat and a slightly bored looking Remus sat to your right, reading from a book you didn't recognize. You'd thought that Sirius playing would be enough to keep him interested but sports was just not something he enjoyed watching. You were usually that way as well but whenever James was playing, suddenly you were the most intent spectator in the stands.

You were more worried than you should have been. More worried than what was appropriate for a friend to be. That's what you were, friends. That had been reinforced many times by the shaggy haired boy and you tried desperately to get it through your head before you embarrassed yourself one of these days. Sometimes though, you just couldn't help it.

Really you might have thought he reciprocated if you didn't know any better. You often got comments on what an attractive couple you guys were but each time it was quickly corrected by James. Normally along the lines of 'Oh god no, we are just friends. Purely platonic' , sometimes followed by a shudder or a gag even. It upset you every time to no end but you played along. You rarely, if ever, contributed to the shooting down of any feelings but that was never noticed by the man you had feelings for.

You'd had a crush on him since you were probably in your second year and now you were coming to the middle of your seventh. There were a million times that you almost said something but every time there was a reminder that you were not the one he had eyes for. It usually took the shape of disgust at the thought of dating you or commentary as he pined over the Evans girl who you felt you could never compete with. How could you when she was just perfect. You saw her to the left of you as she stood in the stands as well and your hands shook with insecurity before looking back toward the game. Your heart raced nearly as quickly as James did around the pitch and you prayed that the snitch would be caught soon so that you could get rid of the stress surrounding you. You felt a hand on your right shoulder and you looked over to find Remus had stood and was looking at you caringly.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He asked softly and you tried your very best to soften your gaze and calm your stance so you appeared less concerned with someone that you shouldn't have that much interest in in the first place.

"Of course I am. When am I not?" You smiled before looking out at the pitch.

"When youre watching the guy you're in love with play a dangerous game that you don't like." He stated simply in response to the question you meant to be rhetorical and your eyes widened.

"I don't know what youre talking about." You nearly whispered and Remus smiled.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone Y/N but its not exactly subtle. It probably doesn't help that I know the look on your face because it's how I feel too watching Sirius play." He was still smirking but your anxiety was far from eased.

"Oh god, does he know?" You asked scaredly, terrified that the answer would be yes and you would have to stop spending time with him.

"Shockingly, no." You sighed out in relief but Remus continued. "You should tell him though or else he might end up moving on."

"What do you mean? There's nothing for him to move on from. Everyone knows he's in love with Evans and he has made it pretty clear that he is opposed to being anything more than a friendly relationship with me." You choked out, struggling with the words leaving your lips but knowing them to be true.

"I mean he has a minor crush on Evans but it's nothing compared to the annoyingly huge crush he has on you. He's probably just overcompensating for the fact that he's insecure and doesn't want you to reject him."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked sincerely. You were friends with Remus as you were with the rest of the marauders but it was nothing compared to the friendship they held within their group. You knew Remus was more loyal to James than to you so you couldn't understand why, if it was true, Remus would be telling you at all.

"Because he is trying desperately to move on seeing as he is under the impression that you aren't into him and I'd hate to see him throw something away that could be really good for him." Remus smiled gently and you looked at him gratefully.

"I really appreciate you telling me and all but I just don't think I can believe you. I can't even count how many times he has made a big show of not liking me. I love him too much to ruin what we have and I know that if I confessed and it went bad that I would lose him all together. I would rather have him in my life in a way that hurts than not have him in it at all." You stated sadly and Remus sighed but nodded in understanding.

"I get it but just know that I'm being honest and pretty soon he is going to give up on it. I just want to see you both happy but if its too big of a leap, I understand. That's exactly the excuse he tells the rest of us too."

Suddenly cheers erupted from the stands, cutting your conversation with Remus off as everyone ran to rush the pitch. The snitch had been caught and gryffindor won. You were excited for James but you were also a little terrified to walk onto the pitch to see him with the now conflicted thoughts running through your head. Your thoughts were stopped by the image in front of you which was causing the whole crowd to cheer. James had pulled Lily Evans into a kiss in his excitement and your heart stopped. You felt nausea rise in your throat and Remus caught your eye with a sympathetic look. You didn't look at him for longer than a second and you ran off the pitch with tears streaming down your face. You found your way up to your dorm, pushing yourself to get there quickly before the common room filled with students celebrating their victory. James was always one to love attention so he would be getting crazy after the game which he did just about every time they won.

When you made it to your bed, you hurried under the covers, throwing the shirt you were wearing which belonged to James onto the floor. You felt your heart clench at the despair you felt. You wanted to be upset at Remus for getting your hopes up but you knew he was sincere in his want to help. Still you felt that you would probably not be able to face James in the weeks to come. Maybe, given a little time, you could be around him and not be upset at the world for taking away your chance with him. As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling. You felt tears streaming down your face and you grew angry at yourself. He didn't owe you anything, he wasn't into you. That wasn't his fault and it was so unfair of you to expect anything more from him when your feelings were not his responsibility.

You weren't sure how long you laid there but you could hear the party start and end in the common room. It must have been late. Sleep wouldnt come though, you could just feel your heart continue to break and you were stuck in a loop of self pity. You made the decision that the following days would be spent away from James if you could at all help it. That was probably what he wanted anyway and it was the only way that you would get over the pain you were feeling. At some point your roomates entered your dorm and sleep overtook you for a few restless hours.

When you woke up, the sun was barely on the rise. You hurried up and got dressed and ready. You were planning on getting to breakfast early to avoid running into any of the marauders. You found your plans were not going how you wanted when you entered the great hall to find a head of red hair next to a mop of black. Your throat tightened and you quickly moved to turn and head out of the great hall. You heard a familiar voice call your name but you rushed out before you could give it too much thought. You knew that if you let him try to convince you, you would end up having a very upsetting breakfast with your best friend and his new lover. You would rather avoid breakfast.

Throughout the day, avoiding James was proving to be harder than you had thought it would be. You had many of your classes with him and you even sat next to him in a few. He was insistently trying to get you to open up about why you were suddenly so closed off to him but you remained shut off, reassuring him that nothing was wrong and you were just a little tired from the game the day before. You avoided lunch for the same reason as you had avoided breakfast and you felt yourself starting to get a bit lightheaded. Your afternoon was spent avoiding James but soon he was preoccupied with Lily anyway.

You were hid in a corner of the library when a cough alerted you of someone's presence. You looked up to find the very eyes you hadn't wanted to see.

You pushed it down with a gulp and smiled a bit at him, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay but they were growing harder to hold back after keeping everything pent up all day. It probably didn't help that you were hungry and therefor a bit more emotional. You could feel the tears sitting in your eyes, waiting for something to go wrong so they had an excuse to escape you.

"I don't know what I did wrong." He mumbled while looking at the floor in front of you and you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong James, I promise. It's just been a long day." You smiled and your heart picked up speed.

"Since when did we lie to each other?" He questioned and your heart stopped. You were left unsure how to respond.

"Since the truth would cause more damage than good." You spoke honestly. At this he looked up at you and your eyes met. A tear left you and James immediately moved to comfort you but you tried to move away, standing quickly to evade him. You regretted it as spots filled your vision, the lack of food catching up to you. You know that you turned a bit green for a moment because James looked slightly scared.

"Y/N I dont know whats wrong but you look like you should be getting to the hospital wing. You don't look well."

Before you could answer you felt your vision blacken and your legs give out before your consciousness left you completely.

When you woke up, you knew you were in the hospital wing. It smelled sterile and the bed was stiff underneath you. When you started to wake madam pomfrey came to check on you.

"You can't go around with an empty stomach like that again, do you hear me?" She scolded, though her eyes were soft. You nodded solemnly. "I was alerted that you hadn't been to the great hall to eat all day, you have to know that isn't good for you. I'm gonna have a prefect watch out for you the next couple days to make sure you're eating at meal times. Understood?" She asked again and once more you nodded before leaning back and sighing. You looked at your surroundings and were surprised to see the black haired boy next to your bed fast asleep. Your heart took off again and you felt trapped by your environment. As anxiety swirled around in your chest, James had woken up a bit.

"You're awake." James sighed, laced with relief. You still wouldn't make eye contact with him.  You felt the bed dip as he sat on it and you looked up to watch him put his head in his hands as he leaned over. You felt guilt fill your chest more than it already had from hating that you felt any claim over the man in front of you. You knew you were in the wrong and the last thing you wanted was to cause him any pain. "Remus talked to me." He almost whispered.

At that moment, you wished you could have apparated to anywhere else in the world. You looked back down at your lap and tears were once again brought to your eyes. You felt betrayal that Remus would reveal your feelings to James.

"I'm sorry." You apologized and you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why are you the one apologizing, I'm the one whos behaved poorly." He assures and you shake your head.

"That's not fair to yourself. You're allowed to want to be with whomever you want and my feelings should have no effect on that. You've made it clear for years that you weren't interested in me and it is my fault that I couldn't take a hint. I'm so sorry." You gushed out and tears started to fall from your eyes. You felt James get up from your bed and you prepared him to leave but instead you felt arms wrap around you and a kiss came to your head.

"Y/N I have had feelings for you for years. I was just always too scared for myself to even consider that you might feel the same." He whispered out but you felt only a different kind of pain. Even though he had now admitted his feelings, he was still dating Lily. Not you. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts he spoke quietly. "I broke it off with Evans." You pulled away immediately.

"What? Why would you do that?" You asked quickly and before he had a chance to answer you feared the worst. "Oh god is it because of me? James please dont let my feelings have any bearing on who you want to date, I can't stand the thought of being the reason you broke up. Even if we do have feelings for each other, you deserve a chance with Lily if that's what you want."

"It was mutual, actually. She understood that I had feelings for you and she said she had a crush on someone else. It just seemed like I had kissed her a bit rashly on the quidditch pitch and we agreed that we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. It was only a day anyway." He reassured as he explained himself and you calmed a bit.

"So what does this mean." You got out, almost inaudibly.

"It means that, if you'll have me, I'd like to take you out on a date." He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world and you almost couldn't believe your ears. Before you were even thinking you were nodding quickly, causing spots to once again fill your vision and James grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you before you both laughed. He pulled you by your shoulders toward him and he caught your lips in a kiss that somehow expressed all of the years of repressed feelings. When he pulled away he smiled at you and sat back on your bed. He spent the rest of the day with you in the hospital wing talking about all of the places he was going to take you in the coming weeks.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hp imagine #hp x reader #the marauders #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #harry potter fluff #james potter angst #hp angst #hp fluff

[slasherhaven]

Hello it’s me again could you please do Jesse Cromeans x single mother with a child whose deaf and the father of the child is abusive and trying to make the reader’s life horrible then Jesse crimes to the rescue lol hope it’s not too bothersome or confusing

-🖤

Warnings: abusive past relationship

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) X Single Mother with a Deaf Child and Abusive Partner:

You had been working for Jesse’s organisation for a little while but he never really noticed you, since you didn’t work that close to him.

His assistant had been off sick for about a week, and you had been assigned to take over her role until she got back.

That was the first time he truly took notice of you, instantly becoming a little intrigued.

He recognised the signs soon after. The way you acted around him and others despite nobody giving you any direct reason to fear them. How you apologised too quickly, worried about messing up, how quiet you were. You were good at your job, though.

When you had first headed to his office, to introduce yourself and explain you would be his assistant for a little while, he had gone to communicate through text to speech. You were quick to assure him that you understood sign language if he preferred to use that, your hands moving along with your words as if to prove it. 

It had made him smile. 

Placing down his phone, he used his hands to ask how you knew sign language.

“My son in deaf, sir” you explained with a small smile.

A son? Jesse knew he hadn’t spotted a ring on your hand, so you mustn’t have been married.

Over the week you spend together, he quickly learnt how to act around you. How to keep his distance as to not intimidate you, how to alert you to his presence so not to scare you.

But you quickly became comfortable around him. You knew he was a dangerous man but he had never been anything but kind to you.

Eventually you wondered when his usual assistant would be returning, only for him to tell you that you would be taking on the position permanently. A part of you wanted to argue, to ask more about the woman who’s job you were taking, but the pay raise just couldn’t be overlooked. Not when you had a son to think about.

So, you took to your new role easily. You worked closely to Jesse, the two of you hitting it off with a surprising ease. Perhaps it was because you could communicate so easily? He found talking to you less bothersome? You weren’t sure, but you enjoyed his company.

Normally you would greet him with a smile, two coffees in your hand. This morning was a little different.

When Jesse got to the office, his coffee was already sitting on his desk. Still warm. He found you at your desk, hanging your head, hair forming curtains around your face, scribbling something down.

He approached your desk with purposeful footsteps. He knew that you had heard him but you didn’t look up. 

He used the text to speech to say you name. You pause for a moment before looking up at him. 

Even through the make-up you had applied, he could see the bruise that had formed along your cheek. You knew he had seen it, you saw the anger in his eyes and how his shoulders tensed.

“What happened?” he asked simply, getting no response. “Come into my office” some people found it difficult to decipher tone in sign language but you had become an expert, his body language was tense but you knew the order held some gentleness.

You followed him to his office, he closed the door behind you both before guiding you over to his desk. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and he sat in the other, not putting the desk between the two of you.

He once again asked what happened, who had hurt you.

You had been working with him for a while now, months, and you had noticed how much safer you felt with him. You could smile and laugh without a care when you were with him, you had fallen asleep in his office once while working on some paperwork with him, and you had woken up to a blanket draped over you.

He had even met your son once. It was after work hours, he had called you asking for a file that he couldn’t find. When you realised you had accidently taken it home with you, you offered to bring it in. He hadn’t expected to see you step into the office with a young boy trailing behind you. You handed him the file and he thanked you for it before looking down at your son. He seemed a little timid, standing just behind you cautiously. 

From what Jesse had assumed, the boy didn’t have great male role models in his life and he knew he was an intimidating man anyway. You couldn’t help but smile when Jesse gave your son a small wave, which he politely returned. But when Jessed signed “what’s your name?” your son’s face lit up in a smile before telling him his name. Jesse also introduced himself. 

All of that just to say that you felt that you could trust him.

So, you told him everything. How you had broken up with your boyfriend, your son’s father, a long time ago because of how abusive he could be, you didn’t want your child to be put through that. How, for a while, the father stayed out of your life, seemingly disappearing. How he recently started calling and showing up at your door, demanding to be a part of your son’s life. How he had harshly slapped you for denying him access to your home only the night before.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, but you weren’t surprised that you had. Jesse moved out of his chair, kneeling down in front of you as you lifted your head to look at him.

“Is he still bothering you?” you nodded. “Has he called you today?” you told him that he had been blowing up your phone so you blocked the number but that wouldn’t stop him from coming to your home again. “Are you sure you’re safe at home?” he asked and you paused before giving him an unconvincing nod.

Of course you weren’t safe at home, but you didn’t want to burden Jesse, your boss, with your personal life.

But he knew you were lying, and he wasn’t about to send you back home to deal with him. 

“You can stay with me for a while” he offered as he stood up, your eyes widening as you looked up at him.

“No, I can’t do that. I’m fine really” you didn’t want to be any trouble, even if his offer was very tempting. You would be safe, your ex would never guess you were staying there.

You argued and protested some more but Jesse kept insisting, and you eventually gave in. The offer was generous.

He let you use his bathroom to wash your face and clean up in. The two of you finished work early that day and, since you usually take public transport to work, Jesse opened his car door for you.

He took you to your home, where you packed two bags. One for you and once for your son.

He then took you to pick your son up from school once the school day was finished. Your son seemed excited to see Jesse again, running up and hugging you hello before signing his greeting to the well dressed man beside you.

“We’re going to stay with Jesse for a little while” you knelt down to your son’s height, a little surprised but glad to see his bright smile.

Jesse also smiled, this being one of the few times you had called him ‘Jesse’ despite how many times he had told you to do so.

Jesse’s home is grand and modern and impressive, it managed to stun you a little. But your son was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

“Do I get my own room?” your son signed up to you. You looked to Jesse for an answer, and he nodded.

Jesse didn’t have a kid’s room in his home but he did have some guest rooms, one of which he gave to your son. “It’s the biggest room” he had told the young boy, making his smile grow even more.

That night, your son went to bed with ease, having worn himself out, and you returned to the lounge where Jesse was sitting with a drink.

“Thank you, Jesse. You really didn’t need to do all of this, it’s very generous” you sat down beside him.

He told you that he considered you to be a friend, that he refused to sit by and let your ex harass you. He wanted to look out for you and your son, you were his assistant after all.

For a while everything was going well. You and your son were still staying with Jesse, the three of you getting along well and adjusting easily to your new living situation. 

Jesse found that he enjoyed having you both there. He was aware that he had developed some feelings for you and was fond of your son, so he really didn’t mind you staying with him. In a way, he was getting what he wanted.

Things got a little worse when you went to pick your son up from school one day, finding your ex waiting for you both. You had instantly called Jesse, waiting by the school for him to arrive so that your ex couldn’t bother you too much, it was too public.

When Jesse’s car pulled up in front of you, your ex was talking to you. Your son clinging to your hand, both of you clearly afraid.

As soon as your son saw Jesse stepping out of the car, his face lit up. He released your hand and ran over to the man, who gently guided the child to stand behind him. Jesse’s stance protective.

“Are you ready to go?” Jesse signed and you nodded, quickly walking over to him. 

Of course, your ex had never bothered to learn sign language, so he didn’t understand any of it. He was quick to start snapping at Jesse, asking who he was and to leave you all alone, to mind his business, he was just trying to talk to his son. Your ex has always been foolish and hot-headed, trying to pick a fight with a man so much larger than him.

As your ex got closer, Jesse placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back harshly. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at you, you quickly ushered your son into the car, getting in with him. Using the text to speech on his phone, Jesse threatened your ex. You couldn’t hear, you could only see that he was using the device, but he was threatening your ex to stay away from you and your son.

Your ex backed off and Jesse got into the car, driving the three of you home where you could comfort your son and he could comfort you.

It wasn’t too long after that when Jesse went on his first business trip since you started living with him. It felt strange to be living in his home without him but it had started to feel like your own home. Jesse made sure the two of you stayed in touch, talking everyday.

He returned home after about two weeks. As soon as he stepped through the door, your son had run up to him with a huge smile to greet him with a hug. The two had become close. Your heart warmed when Jesse lifted the young boy up into an embrace, flashing you a proud smile as he kicked the door shut behind him. 

So domestic, how a child should react to his father returning after two weeks away.

That night your son had asked if he could stay up late because Jesse was home, you couldn’t convince him to go to bed, but Jesse convinced him by promising to do something special on the weekend. It had you smiling again.

You and Jesse did stay up a little longer that night, talking and catching up. He asked if your ex had given you any trouble, you told him that he hadn’t. What you didn’t know was that your ex would never be bothering you again, Jesse had made sure of it.

That night you confessed that you had missed him, that your son had as well, and Jesse confessed that he had missed the two of you too.

That night was the night that Jesse finally kissed you, finally feeling that you had become comfortable enough around him, that you returned his feelings and didn’t think you owed him anything for his help. And you had returned the kiss instantly, glad that he finally made the move.

Jesse had already proven to be the best partner you had ever had, the best father figure that your son had ever had, and he seemed to want to be those things. You truly believed that the three of you could make this work, that this could be good for all three of you. 

You had fallen hard for Jesse and as he pulled you closer to him on the couch, deepening the kiss, you were sure that you had never felt this way about somebody before.

#jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #chromeskull #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher

[reidsnose]

Window

overview: reader accidentally falls out of a window while having a late night talk with spencer (loosely based on the song: home by edward shapre and the magnetic zeros)

genre: angst? FLUFF

warning: blood, head injury, hospital visit, overdramatic reader thinks shes dying

a/n: i really really dont know if yall will like this but i do and i think its cute so please lmk what u think ab it :)

masterlist

-

-

Spencer knew it wasn't the safest thing in the world. you did too. but something about sitting on the outside window ledge together, talking and laughing, was far too tempting of an offer to pass up. and besides, it was just over 6 feet off of the ground! whats the worst that could happen?

and so you sat, shoulders smushed together so you could both fit. a blanket wrapped around you both, keeping the cool night air locked out. however, you were so close together (and so flushed) that even without the blanket you'd both still be warm.

you adored nights like this with him, thinking to yourself how you got lucky enough to call him your best friend. to anyone else, it was obvious you two were deeply yet obliviously, painfully in love. you watched as he retold a memory he had of the two of you, eyes widening and hands peeking through the blanket to gesture wildly with each sentence. though you were listening to the story, growing more and more fond of the memory now that it was being told from his perspective, you couldn't help but be distracted by him. his essence. his being. he was...intoxicating.

and then he cut to the punch line and looked to you for a reaction, watching beauty radiate from you as you threw your head back and laughed. he didn't even realize how funny it was until he saw how hard you were laughing. and then you snorted, which of course caused you to laugh more. with tears nearly coming out of your eyes, you wrapped your hands around your aching stomach, trying to control your laughter and completely forgetting that you needed your hands to keep you balanced on the window.

he took you in, a tranquility like no other filling his heart.

and then it happen.

in slow motion he watched you lose your balance, unable to catch his grasp as you fell towards the ground outside. fear coursed through his veins as he tried to calculate every possible out come. and then suddenly time was back to normal, and you were on the floor, a fresh cut on your head.

without missing a beat he jumped out after you, landing far more gracefully than you had.

you felt him lift your head into his lap, barely hearing his muffled words. you nodded when he asked if you could hear him for the fourth time. and then you felt some blood trickle down your face. and you did not do well with seeing your own blood.

that was it. you were gonna die. you never told him how you felt and you were going to die. you could even feel death pulling on your eyelids.

in reality, you had landed on your hip and your head hit a pointy rock. it felt like hell but medically you would be just fine. it looked a lot worse than it actually was, head injuries produce far more blood than other body parts.

spencer knew this as he peeled the cardigan off of his shoulders, bunching it up and applying pressure to your wound.

he picked you up bridal style, trying hard to cradle your head at the same time. he was beyond relieved at how relatively minor this was going to be. you would heal, and you would be ok. he got to his car and gently placed you in the passenger seat before running to the drivers side and taking off as fast as he possible could.

"Spencer," you rasped.

"don't talk very much right now. don't worry i'm going to get you to the hospital just stay awake for me you've probably got a concussion." he explained, looking over worriedly.

"im going to die." you told him, your brain feeling foggy from seeing your own blood.

"no you wont. i promise you wont die."

you went on telling him again and again how you would die and how the team shouldn't cry for you. and he patiently explained every time that you would be ok. and as he carried you into the ER you took one look at the cardigan that had rested against your forehead and convinced yourself 110% that you were on your death bed.

so it was now or never.

"Spencer before i die i want you to know that i love you. i always have. i just had to get it off my chest before i left this world with you still in it." you blurted as the doctors began to take you away.

he stood there, mouth agape at your confession.

"she is not going to die." one of the doctors reassured Spencer before turning on his heels and jogging to catch up with the rest of them.

it had to have been the loss of blood. or maybe a concussion fogged your thinking. or maybe he's in shock and he's hearing things. because there is no possible way that that just happened.

and so he sat in the waiting room for nearly an hour while they stitched up your head, nervously tapping his foot to match the pace of his racing thoughts.

he was thinking through every single moment the two of you had ever shared, wondering if-hoping that there was some truth to your confession, when they called out your name. he shot up faster than he ever had before, even getting a little light headed at the sudden quick stance.

he walked in to see you sitting up, drinking some apple juice that the nurses had brought you. and even then, in a hospital bed with half a dozen stitches in your forehead, you looked more beautiful than ever. he was astonished. absolutely astonished at just how radiant you were. your eyes twinkles as you smiled at him.

"so false alarm.. i didnt die." you joked, trying to hide your embarrassment, handing him a hospital issued jello.

"im so glad youre ok. you know i told you from the start we shouldnt have sat on the window," he chuckled, eyes feeling teary for a reason unknown to him.

"i know i know, you're always right." you giggled a little before wincing in pain from it.

his hand came up and lightly brushed your hair back, soothing you so much your eyes immediately fluttered closed. he had to bring it up, he had to know.

"did you mean it?" he asked.

you tried to control your heart rate while you played it dumb, "well yeah i really did think i was going to die."

"thats not what i meant."

"i know." you admitted. "yes. i meant it. i still mean it and if thats weird for you and you want to leave i completely understand-"

he cut you off by pressing his lips to your own, soft but passionate, tasting of jello.

it was a better profession of love than any speech he could try to make. because regardless of how many big words he used, it wouldn't be enough. not to mention that being around you makes his brain turn into mush, rendering it completely useless.

your heart rate monitor started going absolutely wild, beeping quickly and erratically. you both started laughing into the kiss, reluctantly pulling away. euphoria coursed through your veins, two lovesick bozos in the hospital.

you two talked for a little, buzzed from the kiss., smiling like a couple of idiots. but you were happy. sitting in the hospital with a cracked open head and you were still happy. because Spencer was there. and he makes you happy.

after talking to the doctor and a phone call with hotch, you were told to take two weeks off of work. spencer insisted that he go home early every day so he can come over and take care of you. and that was fiinnneee by you.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #garcia #hotch #morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #prentiss #jennifer jereau #jj #david rossi #rossi

[hajimesh]

𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!” 

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you." 

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub. 

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

​​what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones. 

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?” 

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren fluff #eren angst #eren yeager #i missed writing angst hehe #eren.c

[captains-simp]

Alrighty, my friend, whenever you get the chance, I would like a HeroxVillian AU with Carol, where somehow the reader ends up a villain and Carol is hesitant to fight them. Trying to reason with them. With the prompt(s) 3. “It wasn’t meant to go like this,” and 6. “You can't fix this,”

Obviously, I don’t want to rush you, so take all the time you need my love. 💜💜

Ilovethis ilovethis ilovethis. I'm getting some major FATWS vibes here. Thank you for being so patient with me, I hope it's as good as you deserve

Alexa, play Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley

"It wasn't meant to go like this."

"You can't fix this."

Warnings: corrupt reader and violence

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You remember the day you took the super soldier serum better than any other. It had changed you in more ways than one. It had changed your world view. It had changed the relationships that had taken years to build.

Carol was in danger. She had been hurt, rendered powerless. Someone had shot her with a specialised bullet made just for her to temporarily disable the hero's powers. You had been terrified you were going to loose her.

Fortunately, the same people who had made the bullet had been working on a super soldier serum. You were meant to take it back to the lab. It was meant to be destroyed. But you had no powers prior and in that moment you knew the only way you could save the love of your life was by taking that serum.

You had gotten Carol back safely just in time for the side effects of the serum to kick in. It wasn't completed and it sure as hell wasn't safe. You had spent weeks in the medical ward in the tower, right next to Carol.

You did a good job with your newfound powers at first. As soon as you were able to fight again you did just that, better than you ever had in your life. The lives you saved doubled maybe even tripled. You could go on more dangerous missions and fight worse people. You thrived off of your powers, eager to do anything and everything you could to help.

Everyone became so blinded by your eagerness no one ever stopped to think about what else it would do to you. It wasn't like you had ever shown any signs of what was to come.

After a while, it slowly began to twist your world view. Carol picked up on that. Your silent and suppressed nature troubled her. Deeply. She never knew exactly what it was you were thinking. She never understood the things you convinced yourself.

Eventually it was something that couldn't be contained to just some in the moment thoughts. You wanted to accomplish all of the things you wished were real.

As an Avenger you had seen the injustice in the world. It wasn't new. But when the power went to your head you convinced yourself you could change things. For the better. Get rid of all the dirty cops, corrupt judges, sadistic governments. You thought you could change it all. What you never understood was that there were limits.

Changes like that couldn't happen over night. They shouldn't. The world wouldn't be able to adjust fast enough. You never considered the effort it would take to rebuild, because that wasn't your role.

You managed to talk to people who believed the same things you did. People who wanted to put the world right. Your convosations were limited to online and the times you knew you wouldn't be discovered. Then it was rare meetings. Then covert operations. But those things didn't make a difference. You needed to do more. However you couldn't do that while you were an Avenger. They wouldn't understand you. They would try to stop you. So you left.

You loved Carol. That was the hardest thing about leaving. You never wanted to hurt her, only protect her. You convinced yourself that was the ultimate way to protect her, to do what you needed to.

That night you held her close to you as she slept. She knew something was wrong because of that. In growing distant it was a rare act of affection that you had always felt for her and always would. She asked you to talk to her, begged you to tell her what had been consuming every inch of your mind. You never did. You held her until you were certain she was asleep, then you held her some more.

Then you left and never returned. The next time she saw you was on the news. You had broken wrong convicted inmates out of prison. You and a large group. It was the first of many attacks.

Every single one she missed. So did the Avengers. Everything was planned so precisely your operations were done and you were long gone by the time the Avengers showed up. It was hard to catch someone who knew how they worked.

Carol always told herself she would be able to talk you out of it, even when the attacks got worse. Things progressed rapidly and the whole world was there to watch it.

Buildings were set aflame and destroyed. The people you wanted gone from the world were killed without mercy or trial. You assigned yourself the role of judge, jury and executioner with no one stopping you. The group you worked closely with encouraged it all, respected it. Even when innocent people got hurt.

Without even knowing it, you became one of the people you had once sworn to protect the world from.

By the time Carol finally found you it was too late. You weren't the person she once knew. And yet Carol still looked in your eyes and saw the woman she loved, even if no one else recognised you.

Your final operation had been an overall success, but your escape had been delayed. Hence bringing you face to face with Captain Marvel herself.

"Y/n." She whispered, calling to you like an abandoned puppy. You narrowed your eyes at Carol, knowing she wasn't just going to let you go and say 'keep up the good work'. No. You would have to fight your way out.

There was a few feet between you. You were in a now abandoned warehouse alone, only the distant sound of sirens somewhere else, chasing down anyone from your group that remained.

"This isn't you." Carol continued. You still didn't speak. "Please y/n, people are getting hurt."

"Only what's necessary." You finally said, eyes flicking to to the doors behind Carol.

"Innocent people." Carol pleaded, her eyes widening. She may have been in her suit, but Carol didn't show any signs of fighting you anytime soon. Her stance wasn't defensive, it was cautious.

"I need you to get out of my way." You had never wanted to say something in such a cold tone to Carol. You still loved her, she just didn't understand.

"The others wanted to take a different approach to this...to you. Just corporate and and I'll make everything okay." So they wanted you dead, you guessed it would get to that point eventually.

"You can't fix this." You said defiantly. Did Carol really expect people to eventually welcome you back with open arms?

"I'm not going to give up on you. Ever."

"Get out of my way." You said firmly, not wanting to continue the convosation any longer.

"I don't want to fight you." Carol protested, still not becoming defensive. Her voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, you tried to ignore that. It was hard.

You took a testing step forward. Still nothing from Carol.

"Please don't make me." She pleaded.

"I'm not making you do anything. Let me walk away."

"You know I can't do that."

You decided you wouldn't wait around any longer, every moment you talked to Carol pulled on your heart strings. You couldn't let that weaken you.

You ran at Carol and jumped into the air a couple of meters to drive yourself down. Carol caught your attempted attack and pushed you back firmly, still giving you a hopeful look.

"Stop." She attempted, but you came back at her from another angle to try and swipe her off her feet which she was able to dodge swiftly.

"Get out of my way." You grunted, quickly growing frustrated.

"I can't." You ran directly on this time and delivered several short and powerful blows that Carol struggled to avoid. You kept going, trying punch after punch after every short range attack Natasha had taught you that was driving Carol back towards the door.

"Stop!" She tried again, sounding more desperate this time. Even when your attacks came dangerously close to being successful Carol refused to use her powers. You could handle them to some extent, the serum could tolerate some of it's force. But Carol refused to do it.

You finally landed a kick to her stomach that made her stumble back a few paces. You pushed aside the feeling of guilt and instead made a break for the door, using every bit of self control you had not to look back at those brown eyes.

Carol had been dazed and didn't realise until you were too close to the exit. She could have stopped you if she used her powers. It would have been efficient and easy. You thought she did.

An indescribable feeling of pain shot up through your back for a mere second but was enough to make you fall straight to the floor. Your back stung as though you had been attacked by a sworm of bees and made your whole body feel suddenly very fragile, like it was only made of thin needles. Your whole body was shaking as you tried to comprehend what had happened.

Carol's powers didn't do that. You knew something else that did.

Natasha? Had you just been on the recieving end of a widow bite? You could faintly hear steady footsteps approaching you that made you sure you were right.

You breathed in deeply and tried to get to your feet, reminding yourself exactly what would happen of you were caught.

I will not be put in a cage. You hissed internally.

You were barely on your knees when you gave a strangled cry at the feeling returning with more power. You fell down onto your stomach again and tried to reach around to get the device off but you were faced with the terrifying realisation that you couldn't move. Natasha had told you all about that widow bite. It meant she had used the highest setting on you. It would have killed anyone who didn't have that super soldier serum.

"Stop!" Carol shouted again, except this time it clearly wasn't at you. "That's enough."

The blonde kneeled down at your side and instantly brought you close to her, cradling your head in her lap as she combed her soft fingers through your hair in the comforting way you remembered so clearly and missed. A tear finally fell down her cheek as she watched you gasping, eyes wide.

Carol was all you could feel and focus on as you slowly lost consciousness. No matter how much of a fight you tried to put up you couldn't move an inch of your body and you couldn't run from the looming darkness that was gradually gaining on you.

You dreaded where you were going to end up. What would happen to your group. Mostly, you dreaded the impact it would have on the blonde you once planned to spend the rest of your life with.

"It wasn't meant to go like this." Was the last thing you heard as the darkness enveloped you entirely.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers x reader #marvel

[feysandfeels]

ACOTAR 5 or 6?? (I don’t know which book is next)

Did someone ask for this? No, not really. Am I still going to theorize how the next book is going to go in length? Yes, yes I will. Also I’m doing a facemask that needs 20min to set in so like, I have time to kill. 

I have seen many saying that Azriel’s book is next because through him we will get Illyria, which still needs to be dealt with. Also through him we get Gwynriel and that. Even though I can definitely see the logic behind that, I thought I might throw in another option just for shits and giggles. 

This is more like a fever dream than anything. Don’t hold me to it, because I haven’t read these books with the academic rigorosity to come up with counter arguments as to why it’s Az’s and not Elain’s book that will come next. But, that being said, if I’m right I will say I told you so (lol). 

Also this will further my Elucien agenda so like... yeah you’ve been warned.

Why Elain?

Because I think it makes more sense to go have a book deal with one villain working up to Koshei, than to have Beron+Koshei as the big baddies in one final book. So like ACOSF was the human queen, ACOTAR 5 is Beron and then ACOTAR 6 ultimate baddie Koshei. And who is character that has ties to Beron? Lucien and who would Lucien’s book be with? exactly, Azriel. no I’m kidding, of course Elain. 

I also think Elain was a character that had a huge presence in this ACOSF despite having like three sentences. You could see her impact in the book and to me that was quite telling. 

ACOTAR 5: 

Right so we all can agree on a few things after being in this fandom for a couple of years or at least since the end of ACOSF: first, Elain and Lucien will deliver a Jane Austen type romance; second, it will entail a lot of court politics; and third, Elain is up to something and no one knows what it is. Yes? 

First Act:

Elain doing her suspicious stuff and we as the reader find out what it is and can already see the negative implications

Lucien still taking the brunt of the work in the SC, which is still utter chaos.

BoE content: Vassa is agitated because her curse is nowhere near close to being broken and time is running out. 

The IC finds out what Elain is been up to. I do think it has something to do with her wanting to go back to her human self. Cue the confrontation.

Meanwhile with Lucien: Vassa might attempt something it triggers a magical response from Koshei, an attack or something. Maybe Beron decides to make a move to the SC given that Tamlin is absent as a ruler. I don’t know, the point is we get a confrontation scene that sees Tamlin die to protect Lucien. Everyone is in shock because the HL of Spring just died, without heirs and close relatives. Where did the power go?

Lucien starts to feel it, but then he realizes that it’s not because it is happening to him.

Cue to Elain having her “i want to be human again I don’t care the cost” rant at the IC. Amren will call her a stupid girl, because that’s what she does. Then the power flows to her and she’s going to be hella confused, everyone in the IC is stunned and when Elain asks wtf just happened, Feyre will say: Tamlin died (because she can feel the shift of power of spring due to the kernel of power of spring that she has), so that means and Rhysand finishes the thought by saying that Elain is the new High Lady of the Spring Court (and the first cauldron-chosen high lady)

This means that now she has more ties to this fae world and can’t simply abandon them.

We will have some discussion about what to do next and Elain is all like “I don’t want to be High Lady I didn’t even want to be fae”. Trust someone in the IC, maybe Amren (since she has no problem with saying what everyone else is thinking in the bluntest-maybe even rudest way), to say that having Elain be HL of Spring would make everyone’s life easier given the unified Prythian front they must once again have because of the Koshei threat. Maybe it will even be Azriel and they will have the E/lriel fallout...

Lucien arrives at the NC to talk to Elain or well something. 

News spread about what happened and they know that Elain’s claim (if she chooses to make it) to the SC is a tad shaky and not everyone will accept it. Beron is like the fuck if you think I will accept this human-turned fae claim. The SC is an strategic location and I will take it for myself because it will be useful fo my Koshei-agenda.

Eris arrives like hello my dad is about to move his army to the SC so now is the time to kill him

And Elain is still like “i don’t want it”. Think Jon Snow in GoT.

Cue an Archeron confrontation of “you can’t run away from your responsabilities// life is not neat and sometimes it will throw at you things you thought you wouldn’t have thought you’d needed to take on// take a stance for once and think beyond your own plants”.

Details are blurry but she is like I need to leave here (the NC) because no one has my best interest at heart they are just doing what it’s politically best. But who might have my best interest at heart? That’s right, Lucien. She asks him for help or to leave or whatever.

Lucien is a politician and a courtier but for once, for fucking once he will do something that’s not for political gain (for the court he represents). He will help her because he wants to see her at peace. They go to the human lands with BoE.

The first act ends with one dead Tamlin, one unsure Elain, one willing to help regardless of the decision Lucien, and one war focused Beron. 

Second act:

The BoE content we have all been waiting for 

Vassa might be weak from whatever happened and Jurian is all worried. 

They see Elucien arrive and are like 👀👀👀👀. Lucien glares at them in a “say anything and i will in fact kill you” way. 

Elain starts to open up and mentions that if anything it should be Lucien who’s the HL and not her because he knows the territory and it suits his skillset. All she wanted to do was have a quiet life and see the world. 

Lucien says that if he were to make a claim he would need even more support from other courts, because if Elain’s claim is shaky at best, then his is like ... not great.

They agree that Lucien should travel to other courts to gather support because regardless whether it’s Elain or Lucien who will ascend to the Spring throne, they will need it. Elain asks if she can go with him because, as she said, she wanted to see more of the world. 

We also get an Eris Vanserra visit - or several - and Lucien starts to realize that Eris knows waaaaaaaaaaaay more than he has lead on. And that they need to work together because again, regardless of who takes the throne, Beron will fight it, but if Eris is on the Autumn throne he would offer support to either. 

Cue the Lads tour of Prythian ft. Politics-courtier plotline and the “how the fuck are we going to help Vassa” side quest.

Elain starts to learn more about what it takes to be a High Lady and about the territory of Spring and its people.

During visits to other courts one or two members of the IC will pop in and out.

Elucien slow burn + court romance begins (We have nice balls with tension because that’s how Jane Austen would have wanted it and this is nothing if not an austenian romance).

Elan will learn about Jessminda (that’s her name right?)

Lucien and Elain have a heart to heart one day and Lucien is like “I’ve never had a home that is mine, i’ve always owed it to someone else or it comes because they see me as a political pawn”.

Eventually another heart to heart about the complex grief (if you will) that Lucien must be feeling for Tamlin. 

When we get to the Day Court, we get the baby news. Not only are they trying to gather Helion’s support but also to figure out a spell to save Vassa. Doing something with a spell Lucien and Helion find out. I imagine that Feysand is in the DC because they are trying to keep tabs on how Elain is feeling regarding her High Lady position and they wanted to meet somewhere neutral; and so is Eris, because things are getting out of hand at the AC so they are trying to see what they should do. Also Feysand are nosy bitches so of course they would be there.

After the reveal, Lucien is shooketh and leaves, Elain leaves after him. It is raining. They get wet and he stops when he arrives at a temple (we love a good P&P reference) Lucien starts the monologue of what does this mean, who am i, I’ve always been alone and Elain cuts in and says that maybe in the past he’s been alone but that he will never be again; Lucien turns to face her and she walks up to him and kisses him like the Cauldron intended when it made them mates. 

We Eluciens are starting getting our well deserved smutt dishes. 

Third act:

Elain is still  a tad unsure about being a High Lady, because all she ever heard was that she was good at being pretty and an ornament, that she was meant to be the supporting role. Lucien is like “babes fuck what your mom said but no matter what you choose, I will choose you”. 

Finally shit hits the fan at the AC so that’s where Elucien go and Helion.. because LoA is there and he says fuck it imma go help her Beron can go fuck himself.

However they do not arrive at the palace or something like that but to another location where we can finally have visual proof of what Eris has been up to. LoA appears. Her and Helion have a nice tête-a-tête. 

Vassa and Jurian are there too beause #WereGoingToNeedAllTheHelpWeCanGet

Elucien formally arrive to Beron’s court, as is the plan. 

The tension is absurd, the coup is about to happen, something goes wrong, they need to think of their feet, somebody gets hurt.. you know the usual stuff. 

They use the spell to free Vassa and in such release of power Beron is confused and weakened

Lady of Autumn delivers the killing blow. Beron dies, power goes to Eris and everyone is like did we win??

Eris makes the joke that whichever half of Elucien will make the claim to the SC he will support it. By this moment is clear that Elain will take up the role so we all have a good laugh.

Archeron sister reunion, congratulations all around. Maybe a celebration in the SC??? or maybe that’s too tacky given that the whole court is still a mess,

Happy ending?? oh wait there’s something more uh-oh, when freeing Vassa you also freed Koshei. Oh you thought you had weakened Koshei by killing is Prythian ally? think again. Koshei is a god of death that now has full access to his powers. 

The end. 

#Elucien #ACOTAR 6 #Elain Archeron #Lucien Vanserra #Beron Vanserra #Helion #Sarah J Maas #FeysandfeelsPost #As per usual #whatever mistake I have made spelling or grammar wise will be corrected after and only after i post this #because I only see my mistakes when something is already public and not when it's in my drafts.

[strawberrylemonz]

A Mother for Two

Welcome to the continuation! As always, time to dedicate these chapters! Hope you all enjoy, especially @applepie1000

@petrichormeraki I will fist fight you lmaooo /j

Part 3

Part 4 [CURRENT]

Part 5

------------

“You two sure you have everything you need?”

“We’re sure, Xisuma, jeez. It’s not like we’re leaving for good, we’ll be back by tonight.”

Grian snickered as Tommy was swiftly swatted on the backside of his head by Xisuma. Huffing, the boy griped as the group walked over to the portal leading to the Hub. As Xisuma gave the two another look over, Grian finally spoke up.

“Tommy and I will be just fine. We’ll just set up the fliers, get supplies, get our asses back here. Done, easy work.”

“Yeah, easy work!”

“Nothing is easy work when the two of you are together for too long. Just don’t cause too much trouble, nothing more than usual.”

After bidding farewell to Xisuma, the two boys walked into the portal. Instantly, voices chatting with each other filled the silence. The two stepped out of the portal and into the Hub. Players of all kinds here entering and leaving several portals. As the two made their way through the portal transportation section, Tommy examined all the portals. 

Hermitcraft

Stampy’s Lovely World

Pixelmon

MCC

Hypixel 

Cops and Robbers

There were so many portals to so many places. He had only been through the Hub to get to MCC. He was always focused on getting to his destination that he didn’t stop to look closely at every other portal around him. Stopping in his tracks, he stared at a ruined portal. It was grand and beautiful, but falling apart. It was cracked and broken, no longer activated. The giant sign above it proudly held it’s name, keeping the world from being forgotten.

SMP EARTH

Grian was walking when he felt something off. Turning around, he noticed that Tommy wasn’t following him. Tilting his head and looking around, he saw that Tommy was just standing there, staring. Excusing himself as he pushed passed the crowd, he eventually made his way to his brother. Before he could get onto his brother for immediately separating from him, he saw what his brother was looking at. Making a humming noise, he nudged Tommy before pulling out a large banner. Tommy nodded in understanding, and helped Grian unravel the banner. Working with haste, the two strung up the banner on the inactive portal. Once it was secured, they stood back and admired their work.

GRAND OPENING!!!! 

HERMITCRAFT PROUDLY PRESENTS:

INNIT AN ADVENTURE?!

We, in Hermitcraft, happily invite you to join us in the opening day of our latest amusement park, Innit an Adventure! Created by our very own TommyInnit, we encourage you to spend the day with us! Come join us as we make unforgettable memories! Keep an eye out for festival week, and join us for a wonderful night of dancing! 

Are you innit with us?

“Looks great!”

“Of course it does, we made it.”

“Yeah yeah, lets just finish the set up.”

Smiling, the two boys set up two podiums underneath the banner. Taking out a good amount of pamphlets and fliers, they neatly set them down on the podiums. Content, the two began to walk away from the portal as people began to stop at the ruin, murmuring in excitement for the adventure park. 

“This is going to be a success, I can already tell you that. Good job, baby brother.”

The two laughed as they made their way through the portal Hub. Grian noticed some people he recognized and waved them over, already pulling pamphlets out of his bag. Tommy laughed as he looked around, fliers in hand, searching for anyone who was willing to get one. That’s when he saw it. Gulping, he quietly walked up to a neon green portal. 

DREAM SMP

Reading the sign attached to the portal, Tommy saw that only whitelisted people could enter. He was whitelisted. He could walk in, right now, and possibly lose his final life tied to the world. Shaking his head, he snapped himself out of his thoughts and scoffed at them. He liked it in Hermitcraft, he didn’t want to leave it for a terrible past. He didn’t have to worry about permanently dying in Hermitcraft. He didn’t have to worry about losing his shit or having said shit used against him. 

“Although...”

As Tommy mumbled to himself, he eventually came to a final decision. Nodding to himself, he crumbled a couple fliers and chucked them into the portal, sending them to the SMP. It was common knowledge that, even though people couldn’t enter, they could send items. With the fliers crumbled up, it would appear as if random passerby’s just threw trash in, making it easy for Tommy to deny inviting them.

Tommy knew that he didn’t want to go back to his past, that much was crystal clear. But what was stopping his past from going to him? If they missed him as if and wanted to see him again, they would need to make the effort. Humming with approval, he walked over to Grian, who was finishing talking to his acquaintances. 

“Hey, big man, maybe we should send some of the fliers and pamphlets into the portals.”

Grian thought for a bit, before nodding in agreement. Taking half of Tommy’s fliers, Grian gave him half of his pamphlets. Nudging towards the main server, he explained his plan.

“I’ll handle the portals and the travelers, okay? You go out and hang up banners and set up more podiums. Meet me at Feast Street for lunch, okay?”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I can do this, I’m not useless.”

“Far from it. See you later, Toms, love you.”

Tommy stood in silence, watching his brother walk away. His brother’s proclamation of love had caught him by surprise. A smile formed on his face as a warm feeling bursted through his chest. Looking around, he found some crates nearby. Standing on them, he inhaled before hollering out.

“GRIAN!”

He saw his brother turn around, confused. He felt his face flush as a couple of strangers faced him as well. Ignoring them, he yelled out in confidence through the crowd.

“LOVE YOU TOO, BIG BROTHER!”

He saw Grian laugh, a big smile painted on his face. The two exchanged waves of goodbyes before turning their separate ways, ignoring the cooing noises from the crowd. Tommy laughed as he situated his satchel. Nodding, he made his way down to the capital city.

--------

Things were going great for Tommy. Do take note of the use of past tense, just pointing that out there. Now, Tommy was being scolded as if he were a child again. For Nether’s sake, he was 18! Yet, here he was, being scolded for something he didn’t do.

“I swear that I didn’t do shit!”

“Then why are you being so defensive?”

“Because you’re accusing me of crap that I didn’t even do!”

Apparently, according to the stupid shopkeeper that was currently giving him a hard time, some kids were going around and stealing stuff from the shelves. Due to the stress, the shopkeeper immediately accused Tommy of being apart of that group of kids. She wouldn’t let him leave, even after he explained himself. So there he stood, feeling like a helpless child once again.

“Is something the matter?”

Tommy turned to see a petite woman standing behind the shopkeeper, arms crossed. Despite her height, or lack of it, she seemed very intimidating. At least, that’s what the shopkeeper seemed to believe.

“Oh, ma’am, my apologies! I was just reprimanding this deli-”

“My son. You’re reprimanding my son.”

“Son???”

“SON??? WHAT???”

“What is she doing?”

“NEW PARENT POG???”

“Huhhhhhh??????”

“FINALLY OBTAINING A MOTHER, POG???”

“MUMZA???”

“MOTHERINNIT???”

Tommy perked up at this, peering over at the lady once more. The shopkeeper seemed flabbergasted at how blunt the woman was with her. The woman, however, stayed firm with her stance and gaze. 

“You’re son, ma’am?”

“Yes, my son. How many times do I need to repeat myself? I sent him in here to buy some fresh fruit to snack on before lunch, but I now see that was a mistake.”

“W-Wait, no! Ma’am, I didn’t-”

“We will find a different shop to go buy fruit at, instead. Do think about things before acting. Here,”

The woman grabbed a flier and a pamphlet from Tommy, handing it to the shopkeeper.

“You can make things up to both me and my son by telling shoppers about this. Now, we shall take our leave. Come on, dear.”

The woman held her hand out to Tommy, who nodded his head and took it. She led him out of the store and to the street, ignoring the apologies coming from the shopkeeper. Once they were a good distance away, she let go.

“Sorry about that, but you seemed stuck with her hounding you like that. I was going to ask for a flier or pamphlet, but figured I should help you instead.”

Tommy blinked a few times before laughing alongside the woman. Chat was laughing alongside them, taking a liking to the mysterious woman who had saved their little pogchamp.

“Ah, I should introduce myself. I’m Kristin, very nice to meet you! I’m originally from SMP Earth, but I somehow ended up here many years ago.”

“SMP Earth? Holy shit, I’m from there, too! I’m Tommy, by the way. Well, my actual name is Thomas, but everyone calls me Tommy. I’m from Business Bay, but I eventually became the youngest prince of the Antarctic Empire.”

“Youngest prince? Are you Phil’s brother?”

“What? Nah, he adopted me as his son.”

Tommy was startled as the woman, Kristin, began choking on air. Alarmed, he pat her back as he gave her a water bottle he had on him. After a while, she raised her hand and nodded, indicating that she was okay.

“Wow, he has a son. The world is ending, hah.”

“Four, actually. He has four sons.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Tommy laughed before asking what was on his mind. Judging by the breezy feeling that moved across his starry face, he knew that Clara led this woman to him.

“How do you know Phil?”

Kristin’s face brightened up as a small blush painted her cheeks.

“Er, how about I tell you about it as we walk?”

“Better yet, why don’t you tell me and my older brother about it over lunch?”

--------

Grian was not expecting Tommy to come back with an older woman. He didn’t mind, however, after hearing how she saved his brother from the shopkeeper’s rage. Laughing, he ruffled the younger boy’s hair. 

“Haha, you found a mother!”

“We’re brothers, so wouldn’t that make her our mother? Sheesh, dumbass.”

Kristin laughed out loud in the background, holding her stomach and she doubled over. Tommy happily smiled, very glad to have someone appreciate his language. Once they all gave proper introductions and a reason as to why Kristin was with them, they all got food and sad down at one of the outside tables.  After getting a few decent bites into their meals, Tommy spoke up.

“So,  how do you know Phil?”

“Ah, yes, that old fart-”

She smiled as both boys snorted at that statement. Taking a bite out her bread roll, she waited for them to settle down before. Nodding her head, she continued.

“It’s true, he is! Anyways, I knew him when I lived back on SMP Earth. I was, well, am the princess of a smaller kingdom back there. Phil’s parents had started a small kingdom of their own, the Antarctic Empire. My parents, along with his, arranged for the two of us to be married to one another. I would have usually thrown a fit at an arranged marriage, like I always did when they brought up suitors, but Phil and I actually liked each other, so we agreed. I disappeared before the wedding, however, fell through my mirror and into a hardcore world. Once I made it out of there, I ended up here. Been here ever since.”

Grian started choking out of surprise. Tommy and Kristin both moved quickly to help him, worried. Once he gave them a sign that he was okay, he adjusted himself.

“You’re Queen Kristin?”

“Queen?”

“Yeah. I read it in one of the books in the archive when I was younger. Although you disappeared, you were still married to my dad, and the two kingdoms were merged into one.”

“What?”

Kristin stared at Grian, confusion and disbelief painted her face. Suddenly, she groaned and hit her head against the table. 

“This explains why some of the things I bought took way too long to finalize! My last name has been Minecraft this entire time!”

Tommy and Grian shared a look of disbelief. This was the only thing she was concerned about? Being married to Phil wasn’t troubling or shocking news to her at all! Suddenly, Tommy’s eyes widened as he gasped, pointing at Kristin. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT MAKES YOU MY ACTUAL MOTHER.”

--------

Kristin helped them finish setting up banners and podiums. She also aided them in passing out fliers and pamphlets to passing people. Once they ran out, she walked them over to the Hub. As they stood at the entrance portal to Hermitcraft, Tommy hugged Kristin, who ran her fingers through her head. She may have been new to the whole mother thing, but her caring instincts were enough to comfort the young boy.

“I wish I could come, I really do, but I’m not on the list. I’ll have to wait until opening day.”

Before Tommy could whine, Grian spoke up. 

“What if we got you on the list? Would you move in, then?”

Kristin laughed as she pat Grian’s shoulder, a smile painting her face.

“Of course! I just found out I had family! You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily. Here, take this. If you guys get me on the list, use this to get to my house.”

Tommy brightened up as he was given a compass labeled Kristin. He nodded as Grian promised. 

“Bye Kristin! See you around!”

“Bye Tommy, Grian, I’ll see you two soon.”

The boys watched as she walked away, a pep in her step as disappeared into the crowd. Nodding to each other, Tommy and Grian went home.

#memories in the stars au #memories in the stars #hermit!tommy au #Mumza #Mumza has entered the game #kristin minecraft

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

i'm so TIRED of people with vivid imaginations trying to convince every1 the things their brains came up with happened in MDZS, just saw some1 say about lan mom "SOMETHING went down between a creepy teacher and their mother. She gets forced into marriage with a man she doesn’t love and IMPRISONED before eventually committing suicide/ falling sick and dying" like WHERE? the only piece of information was LXC saying "i have no idea WTF happened" so he doesn't know, MXTX doesn't know but you do???

Some of this is a shock for my system so early in the morning... alright... I guess we're gonna go step by step with this just cause people are awful at reading, along with my stance on this particular bit of prevalent discourse.

Since this is greatly misinterpreted for whatever reasons, here is the relevant passage and only one in the text we get concerning the Lan parents. I'm going to add that this is alllll relaid by Lan Xichen and to keep that in mind with what is highlighted.

He spoke slowly, “The reason that my father often practiced secluded meditation was my mother. This place, compared to a place of living… was more like a place of detention.”

Wei WuXian was surprised.

The father of ZeWu-Jun and HanGuang-Jun, QingHeng-Jun, used to be a famous cultivator. He made his name at a young age and had many things waiting for him in the future. However, at the age of twenty, he suddenly backed away and announced his marriage. He had also ceased to care for much of the world. Although it was called secluded meditation, it was much more like retirement. People had come up with many possible reasons, but none of them had been verified.

Lan XiChen bent down amid the clusters of gentians. He gently stroked those thin, tender petals, “When my father was young, when he returned from a night-hunt once, he saw my mother outside of Gusu city.” He smiled, “I heard that it was love at first sight.”

Wei WuXian grinned as well, “The young are often sentimental.”

Lan XiChen continued, “But, the woman did not care for him the same way. In addition, she killed one of my father’s teachers.”

This was beyond imagination. Although Wei WuXian knew that asking too many questions would be very rude, however when he remembered that they had been Lan WangJi’s parents, he felt that he just had to ask. “Why?!”

Lan XiChen, “I do not know. But, I assume that it was something along the lines of ‘grievances’.”

Wei WuXian didn’t ask anymore into this and forced down his curiosity, “And… what happened later?”

“And then,” Lan XiChen explained, “When my father heard of this, of course he was in much pain. But, no matter how he struggled, he still took the woman to his sect in secrecy. Ignoring the objections from his clan, he knelt with her for the Heavens and the Earth without making a sound and told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.”

Wei WuXian widened his eyes.

Lan XiChen continued, “After the ceremony was completed, my father found a house and locked my mother inside. He found another house and locked himself inside. It was called secluded meditation, but it was in truth to repent.”

He paused before speaking again, “Young Master Wei, can you understand why he did such a thing?”

Wei WuXian answered after a moment of silence, “He could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.”

Lan XiChen, “Do you think that this was right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

Lan XiChen looked somewhat lost, “Then, what do you think would be right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

A while later, Lan XiChen whispered, “It could be said that my father did this without a care for anything else. All of the seniors of the clan were enraged, but they had all watched him grow up. They could not do anything except guard this secret, hint to the outside world that the wife of the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader had an unspeakable disease and could not see others. After WangJi and I were born, we were immediately taken away to be cared for by other people. When we grew older, we were brought to Uncle to be taught."

“My shufu… has always had a frank personality to begin with. Because of how my mother caused my father to destroy his own life, he began to hate those who behaved improperly even more. Thus, he poured his heart into teaching WangJi and me. He was especially harsh as well. Every month, we could only see Mother once, inside of this cottage.”

They were two young children, who faced everyday only their harsh uncle, strict teachings, and mountains of books. No matter how tired, they had to straighten their soft backs to be the most outstanding disciples of the clan, the model students in others’ eyes. They could rarely see their closest relatives. They couldn’t fool around in their father’s arms, they couldn’t act spoiled in front of their mother.

But they had clearly done nothing wrong.

Lan XiChen, “Everytime WangJi and I went to see her, she would never complain about how tedious it was being locked inside of here, unable to step out once. She had never asked about our studies, either. She especially liked to tease WangJi, but WangJi, the more you tease him the less willing he is to talk, and the worse of an expression he puts on. He has been like this ever since he was young. However,” he chuckled, “even though WangJi never said it, I knew that every month he was looking forward to the day he could see Mother. He was like this, and I was the same.”

Wei WuXian imagined a young Lan WangJi hugged inside of his mother’s arms, his snowy little cheeks flushed pink. He laughed as well. But before his smile had even melted, Lan XiChen continued, “But one day, Uncle suddenly told us that we would have no need to go any longer."

“Mother was gone.”

Wei WuXian’s voice was soft, “How old was Lan Zhan back then?”

Lan XiChen, “Six.”

He continued, “He was still too young to understand what ‘gone’ means. No matter how much others comforted him, or how much Uncle scolded him, he would continue to come back here every single month, sit down in the hallway, and wait for someone to open the door for him. When he grew older, he understood that Mother would not be coming back, that no one would open the door for him, but he kept on coming here.”

Lan XiChen stood up. His dark eyes looked into Wei WuXian’s, “WangJi has been so stubborn ever since he was young.”

The leaves rustled and the gentian flowers swished alongside the wind, their scent lingering. Wei WuXian’s eyes landed on the wooden hallway of the cottage. He could almost see a small child wearing a forehead ribbon sitting with proper posture in front of the house, waiting quietly for the door to open.

He spoke, “Madam Lan must’ve been a very gentle woman.”

Lan XiChen, “In my memories, Mother had indeed been so. I do not know why she did such a thing back then. And, in truth, I…”

He took a deep breath before confessing, “I do not want to know either.”

After a few moments of silence, Lan XiChen closed his eyes. He took out Liebing. A gust of night wind suddenly sent forth a sobbing note of the xiao. The sound was deep, like a sigh.

Wei WuXian had heard Lan XiChen play Liebing before. Its timbre was just like Lan XiChen himself, as warm and graceful as a breeze and the rain of spring. Yet, now, although his technique was as excellent as ever, the tone evoked a strange mixture of feelings.

The night wind swept by. Lan XiChen’s hair and forehead ribbon were already somewhat disheveled. However, the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader, who had always regarded appearance highly, didn’t pay any attention to them. He only put down Liebing after the song had finished, “Music is forbidden at night in the Cloud Recesses. Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”

Wei WuXian, “How so? ZeWu-Jun, have you forgotten that the person standing in front of you is the person who has broken the most rules…”

Lan XiChen smiled, “The GusuLan Sect has never revealed these facts about Lan Wangji and myself outside of itself. I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m not the kind of person who talks too much. Don’t worry, ZeWu-Jun.”

Lan XiChen, “Regardless, I would assume that WangJi would not hide anything from you anyways.”

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi���s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Now that we have the context of the Lan parents laid out the only definitive answer for anything concerning their personal motivations for anything is "I DON'T KNOW". Their secrets and thoughts literally died with them.

And this entire story Lan Xichen told in the end, had nothing to do with his parents. He did not tell Wei Wuxian about them, he was speaking everything unsaid about Lan Wangji's motivations and his love of Wei Wuxian. He does not care why his parents did what they did, but he does for the one that is alive. His brother who he had just had a bit of a veiled conversation about Lan Wangji's pure trust in Wei Wuxian. Who, in Lan Xichen's eyes, had already rejected his brother's love and did not feel the same, mirroring the past of their father's apparent unrequited love. He is saying Lan Wangji is sacrificing his all, unvoiced.

His pressing of if his parent "are right" is him asking Wei Wuxian what he feels about those sacrifices, if he can see the sacrifices Lan Wangji had gone through. At this point he along with Lan Wangji have assumed Wei Wuxian knows and remembers what he had said within the cave. He is telling Wei Wuxian his brother has alway been this way for those he loves regardless of what they may be perceived as by outsiders.

"Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”"

"I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Meaning, it was not his place to tell this about his brother, but there is no one else that would, and Lan Wangji would never say anything about his feelings again. Lan Xichen is first and foremost worried about where his brother has placed his love, as he knows, regardless of what rumors surround those he loves, his brother will still be forever loyal to them without question if he believes them to be in the right.

Lan Xichen is warning Wei Wuxian he needs to take care in his actions as he approaches Lan Wangji as Xichen is well aware already of how Lan Wangji will go through hell for others he adores. From the start it was never about his parents, as Lan Xichen says, "I do not want to know either,". But what he does want to know is where Wei Wuxian stands with his own feelings towards Lan Wangji or if he is still using his brother as he has thought for years. Leaving Lan Xichen to protect him as best as he can while Lan Wangji stays hurt for others with no happiness for himself.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the Lan parents #It literally does not matter what was between them as they are dead and gone #Lan Wangji is the one left seemingly continuing their tragedy and rumors #the lan parents are a damn metaphore for Lan Wangji's feelings

[wtf-yoongi]

Plain sight. / KTH

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | taehyung just wants to be loved (and love is right under his nose)

genre/warnings | fluff + a lil bit of angst?

words | 1,999

note | requested by the lovely 💜💜💜 anon (full request at the end!) sorry for taking the longest time. i’m such a lazy writer

Taehyung is sulking.

The man is sitting on the farthest seat of the comfy sofa, hand clutching his phone tightly as if it could grow wings and fly away at any second. The TV isn’t on, but he’s looking at the screen intently, brows just slightly furrowed in deep thought.

What he is thinking about, though… That’s still a mystery to you.

You have tried to guess whatever is bothering him for — at the very least — half an hour now, but got to no conclusion. Taehyung just sits there, legs crossed and body barely moving except for the rise and fall of his chest, not bothered by your stares or Yeontan’s little wiggles.

How could he after the invitation he got through the mail this morning?

A freaking wedding invitation. His youngest cousin is getting married. The youngest. Why does it have to be the youngest?

Taehyung has reminded himself time and time again that his moment would come. The thing that he feels like is missing so badly in his life would eventually come. There’s no need to rush, no need to worry or stress over this.

Until that pretty envelope came in. Delicate piece of expensive paper, fancy handwriting and all. He is sure someone sprayed perfume on it because the thing even smells good.

Honestly — why does it have to be the youngest one?

What bothers him the most, though, is that he is supposed to be happy for him — and Taehyung, don’t get him wrong, is. His cousin has found someone with whom he wishes to share his life with, who will be there no matter what, will support his decisions and bring his feet down to earth when needed. Someone who will make him eat his veggies and all.

But damn. Taehyung wants that too. He wants to be Loved.

Yes, Loved, with capital L. Not the sort of love you get from you mom — although that is great as well —, but the Love you see in cheesy movies, the Love people talk about in songs, the Love that makes you do irrational things. Taehyung wants all of that. He wants to do irrational things too.

Is that too much to ask?

Too bad you have no idea of what’s going on inside his head. You would be the first to tell him that no, it isn’t too much to ask. Taehyung just needs to realize what’s right in front of him. Right under his nose.

It’s right here, right now. All the capital-L-love he wants. All the love he will ever need. All the love you think is silly and unrequited. Everything you feel the urge to hide as best as you can. The reason why it’s a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon and you’re happy to be in Taehyung’s apartment instead of enjoying it outside — just because his mom asked you to make sure he doesn’t sleep until three in the afternoon while she’s on vacation with his father.

You could’ve accepted your friend’s invitation to take a walk after lunch. You could’ve just called Taehyung to make sure he was awake and had something to eat and be okay with it. Except you couldn’t — you had to come by, you had to stop at the convenience store to get something he likes, you had to use your spare key to open the door because Taehyung was, in fact, still sleeping.

What is there to hide? It’s all in plain sight. Taehyung is the only one who can’t see it.

He had gone back to bed after breakfast — he said it emotionlessly right after you asked him if he had eaten anything today. When you arrived, Taehyung already looked a bit displeased, replacing the usual smile and warm hug he welcomes you with for a frown and a cold stare. He didn’t crack even when he saw the treats you had bought, saying thanks in a low voice. At least you can say it isn’t your fault — or at least you can guess so. 

To pass the time, you try to keep your hands busy in the kitchen, cleaning up counters and emptying the dishwasher even though no one asked you to do so. Deep down, you know you don’t want to go so soon — even if your friend isn’t the greatest of hosts right now, being here is still somewhat calming. The silence coming from Tae is definitely better than the silence coming from the walls of your apartment.

But enough is enough. You need to know what’s going on inside his head — and not just because you’re curious. Most of all, you want to help. What if it’s something serious? What if it’s something to do with work? You may not be able to do much, but getting it out would surely help, right?

You call his name, raising your voice a little for him to hear you from the living room, but he doesn’t even move a finger. Taehyung seems to be inside of a bubble, protected by a layer of annoyance that not many people would dare to pop. A long exhale comes out of your lips — it may hurt, but you need to know.

As you walk towards his sitting figure, Yeontan — definitely not oblivious to the fact something’s not right — follows you with pleading eyes. He asks you to raise his little body to the couch when you sit and your hands accommodate him between yours and Taehyung’s legs.

Even then, the man doesn’t seem to notice you’re so close. You call his name again. “Taehyung… Come on, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s when he snaps out of it. 

“I’m okay,” he says calmly and nods, but his eyes don’t connect with yours like they usually do and you know he’s lying to protect himself. You don’t like it — he shouldn’t feel the need to do that with you. “I’m just thinking.”

“Okay, then,” you concede, relaxing your stance. Yeontan promptly jumps on you belly. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

It takes Taehyung a few moments to collect his thoughts and you wonder if he’s considering telling you the whole story of just half of it. You try not to think about the worst, about the things that would break your heart, but your mind immediately moves in that direction.

All of a sudden, Tae is turning his body to yours, crossed legs now facing you. He doesn’t speak fast, but you notice — gladly — it is unfiltered. It just comes out of his mouth in long phrases, calm and somewhat frustrated, as if he’s on the brink of giving up.

“Have you ever watched one of those romantic movies that are so gross… The sort of thing you watch and think oh, god, this is disgusting or this thing would never happen in real life or something like that?”

Taehyung just gives you enough time to nod.

“Is it so crazy that my brain has been programmed by these movies and tv shows that are oh-so-delusional and now I’m delusional too? Like, I swear to God, I want to take someone for a walk in the park with Yeontan and have ice cream and sit on a bench and giggle quietly while trying to hide my face from people passing by because I’m way too shy about it.”

And I hate the idea that there’s a possibility that I’ll never be able to do it and it’s completely out of my control because it may happen that destiny doesn’t think I deserve to love someone so much, so much it hurts me physically… But, you know, not in the unhealthy way. I mean in the I’m gonna watch her become one of the greatest people in this world and I’m going to be there when she needs me and I’ll be cheering her on way, you know? Please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the controlling type and I never want to be that, no.”

And just this morning I got a wedding invitation that made me rethink all of those things and, I don’t know, don’t you think by now I should’ve at the very least fallen in love with someone? And I don’t even mean successfully — I mean at all. All my friends have had somewhat serious relationships and now even my youngest cousin is getting married. I’m happy for him, I am, but I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of it never happening to me. Does that make any sense?”

It takes a while for your brain to process all of that and, most importantly, to separate your role as a friend and your want for something more. You take a deep breath before finally looking up to him, heart breaking as you rational side takes over. “Okay. It makes sense, I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t you think it’s weird my twenties are more than halfway gone and I’ve never fallen in love with anyone?”

Your heart breaks a little further with the way there’s so much hope in his eyes. Honestly, not even in your worst nightmares you’d have to go through this sort of conversation with Taehyung — and certainly not while struggling to keep a straight face. You feel tired already from trying so hard, as if your energy has been drained in a second.

Surprisingly, your voice comes out somewhat stable.

“But that’s the thing, Tae. You can’t force this, it happens. And just because it hasn’t happened up until now, it doesn’t mean that it will never,” you add, diverting your gaze to the small dog on your lap. Such a great excuse not to look into Taehyung’s eyes — you wonder if he’ll notice anything when you say your next words. “Also, falling in love isn’t always great. You said you wanted it even if it was unsuccessful, but it hurts, you know?”

“So you have fallen in love?”

“I am in love right now.” You wish you hadn’t answered so promptly. You can’t believe you’re confessing or the words that come out of your mouth next. “And he doesn’t know it and I can’t build enough courage to tell him because I don’t want to lose him over some stupid thing like unrequited love. I just want him in my life, even if it’s not like that… What I’m trying to say is that the movies make it look simple and easy, but it isn’t. Most of the time people just get hurt.”

You’re not looking, but you know from the way Taehyung moves his hands that his eyes aren’t so hopeful anymore. Inside, you’re not just broken from having to keep a mask on while saying all of that, but also for being the one to bring him down so harshly. You wonder if you should’ve toned it down a little, but it’s too late now.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Taehyung says, slowly and carefully, after a few moments. “What I mean by unsuccessful is not spending the rest of your life with this person. I still want to take them for a walk and have ice cream, at least.”

A laugh escapes your lips — desperate, but thankful for the kindness in his heart. “Fair enough. You want to fall in love and you want them to fall in love too. Even if it’s not forever.”

“Exactly. That’s what I want.”

“Okay. Just…” Your voice falters. There’s a hand clenching your heart tightly as you finish your sentence. “Don’t think about it too much, it will happen when the time is right.”

“Ah, I wonder if I’ll be able to notice it, you know? When I finally fall in love with someone… When they fall in love with me.”

It takes all of you for your last words to come out in a single breath.

“It’s hard to see something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Read more ��› masterlist

request | i needed to share my idea because its making me melt. In the most recent in the soop ep, tae and jk had a heart to heart and tae talked about how he wants to be loved and he needs to know that someone loves him. And i just imagined like a comfort scenario where someone just takes care of him when he’s feeling lonely and unloved. My angsty/fluffy feels. So yeah, if you ever want to write something like this... ill cry (out of joy?) 💜💜💜

note 2 | you can tell by “the most recent in the soop ep” how freaking long it took me to write this. honestly, i struggled. this has been rewritten like four times???? and i’m still not quite sure i like it aaaaah

#kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #taehyung angst #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagines #taehyung x reader

[prvtbugsbuggins]

26 - Old Yeller

For @whumptober2021

Chapter link -> Here

Trigger warning for: Intense arguments, betrayal, and self reflection.

Prompt: Mercy

Summary: Epsilon learns some hard truths about himself, and wonders if he has finally gone too far.

—

Epsilon was tired. They had been on the run for days now, running from some invisible mercenary that would be more than happy to put a bullet through everyone’s head. Once they discovered what was happening on Chorus, they were quickly being hunted. They had discovered how they kept running into the mercenary Locus, resulting in many close calls that were far too close for comfort.

To be safe, they essentially had to kill Caboose’s pet, the remaining part of what was once a Mantis-class military assault droid. Of course, Caboose would befriend something like that. But for everyone's safety, it had to go, but convincing Caboose to do so was the hard part.

“Caboose, I’m sorry but we have to destroy it.” He tried to keep his tone gentle. He truly didn't want to have to destroy it, but he was more concerned on keeping his friend alive more than anything else. Epsilon crossed his arms from where he projected on Carolina’s shoulder, trying to look firm and in charge. Alpha was once leader of Blue team, and Caboose often got the two of them confused, so he was hoping to exploit that. Said Blue was cornered, hunching protectively over an AI chip that he refused to hand over.

“No!” Caboose shouted, using his body in an attempt to block everyone from getting closer. Freckles, or the ‘brain’ of Freckles, was impossible to get to. If Caboose didn’t want to give anything up willingly, it took either intense bargaining or outright tranquilizing him to get him to give it up, the latter was out of the question.

“We have to, Locus has a tracker program on it.” Epsilon tried to reason with him, “It’s how he keeps finding and trying to kill us. I want to keep us all safe, don't you know that?”

“I’m so sorry Boose, but he’s right.” Wash jumped in to try and back him up, something the AI was grateful for. “We can uh...get you another robot once everyone is safe. Preferable one that doesn’t have missiles on it.”

The Spartan only shook his head, moving his hands to hold the chip close to his chest. “I’m not abandoning Freckles! It’s not Freckles fault he’s sick!” He shifted his stance once he saw Carolina and Tucker move a little, both soldiers keeping well out of the way. “Why can’t you fix him? You're smart!”

“Because Locus is probably already on the way here, we don’t have time!” Epsilon shouted, raising his voice in frustration. He was steadily losing his temper, they had been at this for a good ten minutes now and it seemed like Caboose was not going to budge. “Stop being a fuckin’ baby and hand it over!”

“Epsilon…” Carolina warned, shooting the AI a look that he promptly ignored, he was too angry. Angry because these idiots weren't listening to him.

“No!” Caboose shouted back. “I won’t because Freckles didn’t abandon me! He was there for me, unlike you.” The last word was said with so much force that the AI actually took a step back, even though he was just a hologram. It was extremely rare for the Spartan to get angry, and when he did something was likely to get broken. Epsilon switched tactics, moving to try and calm him down.

“I didn’t abandon you! We had to-”

“YES YOU DID!” Caboose was full on screaming now, hiccupping as he started to loose control over his emotions. “You died! You came back! And you left! And then you came back! And then you left again without even saying goodbye!”

“You know I had a good reason for that.” Epsilon snapped, thoughts of de-escalation thrown out the window as he got defensive. “We had to go after-”

“I DON’T CARE! I JUST WANTED MY FRIEND!” Sheer pain roared out of Caboose's throat, chasing the end of a sob. The Spartan turned around, shoulders shaking as he clutched the chip as though with was a tether to reality. “Freckles was there and you weren’t! I needed you! But you keep leaving and hurting me! All the time! I WISH YOU WOULD STOP COMING BACK AND LET ME STOP HURTING!”

Caboose threw a fist back behind him and hit the stone they were sheltering behind with so much force, it cracked in half. Stones shifted and what was once a boulder about the size of a tank was reduced to mere pebbles in seconds. If anyone was standing there at the time, they would have been utterly obliterated, and they all knew it. Unconsciously, everyone stepped back away from the Spartan, something that did not escape his notice.

“I…” The pain in his voice was evident as he watched the people he cared about be actually frightened of him. He had scared them. Blue armor shook as he pulled his fist back, now covered in powdered stone, the one that could of easily killed someone. “I’m…it was...I wouldn’t...”

“Boose…” Wash stepped forward and slowly lifted a hand towards him. Caboose couldn’t help but feel like Wash was treating him like he was about to bite someone, and it hurt. “It’s okay, we-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, the sudden movement spooking Caboose into running. He was there one second, and then he was gone, a simple cloud of dust dissipating where once stood. For a moment, everyone stood around and stared at the now empty spot, pebbles still continuing to shift and move about.

“Nice going, asshole.” Tucker hissed after a moment. “Real bang up job you did.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker, I didn’t see you helping!” Epsilon turned to stare at Tucker, flickering red in his anger. “I did the best I could, but you saw how he was acting!”

“He was acting like a traumatized person, in pain, who attached themselves to a comfort object because the usual source of their comfort up and left! The same thing that you, the one who caused it, wanted to destroy! What the fuck did you think was going to happen!?” Tucker threw his hands up in the air, frustrated and angry himself. “Christ, Church, do you ever think about anyone but yourself!”

“I AM THINKING OF EVERYONE!” The AI shouted back, “I’m trying to keep us safe!”

“Doing a real good job of doing that too, seeing that one of our teammates up and fucking left.” Tucker gestured hard at the empty spot.

“Guys-” Washington tried to interrupt, putting a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, but Tucker shook him off with a growl.

“No! It’s about time that fucking prick gets a reality check!” He whirled around again and pointed at the AI. “Listen, you think Caboose can always bounce back from anything, but he can’t. There’s only so many times a person will take getting spit on before they up and leave! And he’s taken so much shit from you! Which is rich, cause he's the only reason why you are alive right now!”

Epsilon drew himself up, ready to yell back, but was stopped by Carolina.

“Epsilon...Church.” She said, softly, trying to remain calm. He could pick up the subtle edges of guilt in her voice. “You need to listen….we both need to listen.”

“You can’t possibly-”

“Yes, I can.” She stressed, fixing the AI a hard gaze. “Our push to find the director hurt a lot of people,” She glanced over to Washington, and nodded. “and we didn’t help by leaving everyone behind again. We both need to make a change.”

Epsilon couldn’t say anything to that.

“Listen Church,” Tucker continued, rage simmering down a bit. He was still shaking slightly, but his voice was even and controlled. “I have never met anyone so completely loyal and loving like that big goofy idiot. I have no clue why he loves you so much, but you better start acting like you deserve it, or you are going to push him away one too many times and be alone. And you’ll have nobody to blame for it but yourself.” With that, he turned and began to walk away.

Time stopped, at least, it seemed like it stopped. To an AI, it was just normal processing speed as he rolled around the words Tucker said to him. What Caboose said to him.

He remembered when he had first proposed going after the director to the gang. He had lost his cool. He had gotten angry, and promptly turned it on everyone. In his mind, he had blamed them all for his suffering, his frustrations. But then he saw the hurt on everyone’s faces, people who cared about him, and he had just repaid them all by slapping them in the face.

The worst of all was Caboose. He could see in his eyes how much it had hurt him. One of the worst pains he could remember feeling was when Caboose turned around and walked out that door. He had let himself become consumed by his vengeance and anger and ended up hurting everyone with his selfishness.

Caboose had be the one to pull him out of the Epsilon unit, to make him a body, to catch him up, to be glad that he existed. It seemed like no matter where he was, Caboose wasn't too far behind, ready to help or just be there. He never treated him like the broken fractured AI that he was, to Caboose, he was just his friend. Caboose loved him from the get go, even when the AI didn't understand why.

“I have no clue why he loves you so much, but you better start acting like you deserve it, or you are going to push him away one too many times and be alone.

And you’ll have nobody to blame for it but yourself.”

It was true. All of it.

And then he went left in the middle of the night with Carolina, without so much of a note, or saying goodbye. Caboose must have thought he had died again, learning to heal a little from his time away before his dumb ass came back - and ripped open the wounds all over again.

He didn’t know a hologram could feel sick, but he felt it now. Regret and shame wasn’t an easy mix to process. Cold reality crashed down around him, and for the first time since forever, he knew he truly fucked up.

Holy shit, he was such a dick.

“Wait! Where are you going!?” Epsilon shouted, For a moment he was afraid that he did go too far, and that his friend was walking away, never to return. Afraid that he was too late.

“To look for Boose.” Tucker growled, not even bothering to turn around to give the AI a glance. “Nice of you to show your concern.”

“...Take me with you.”

“What!?” Tucker visibly bristled, sounding almost offended by that statement. “You just want to come along and hammer in that knife even deeper. Holy shit Church, you are hella eager to kill that poor man, aren't you?”

“No, you’re right…” Epsilon sighed, drawing the last of his pride together. He didn't bother getting angry at Tucker, he deserved the remark. “I am a dick. I need to apologize.”

Tucker shook his head. “No. I don’t think he’d want to talk to you right now. Let him cool down and when we get back, maybe you can try.”

“...okay.” Epsilon could only sit quietly, watching Tucker walk off and into the bush. He didn’t know how Tucker would be able to find Caboose. Caboose was nearly impossible to find if he didn’t actually want to be found, but something tells him that he’d let Tucker do it. Tucker, and not him.

Washington let out a breath he was holding and looked to Carolina. “Hey, Lis-”

“I’m sorry, Wash.” She interrupted. “I’m sorry I left again.” She went over and hugged him. Wash returned the hug with a sigh, before he let go.

“Just don’t do it again, Boss.” He gave her a thumbs up. “And it’s all good.”

“I need to log off for a bit.” Epsilon announced, and before anyone else could get a word in, he vanished back into the implant. He knew he was running away from his problems for a little while, but he needed the quiet and the dark.

He had some self reflection to do.

—

Once Caboose came back with Tucker, Epsilon apologized. Then he and the team found a secure place where Epsilon could clean the chip, in which then it was installed into Caboose's gun.

The argument was a turning point on how Epsilon treated people around him, and he realized just how bad his temper could affect everyone and how often he thought about himself. The sobering reality that he might drive someone like Caboose away was what he needed to start working on himself.

Caboose was reassured that nobody was scared of him, they were more scared of him getting hurt than him hurting them. When Boose slips too hard into anger, he can end up getting himself hurt badly by simply not seeing dangers. Like he could literally walk right off a cliff because he's too mad to see the edge. He would most likely survive, but he would still get hurt. Like he could have easily broken his hand by punching stones and the like :( Plz don't punch solid objects, it doesn't do well for your hand bones.

#whumptober2021 #no.26 #mercy #altprompt #rvb #red vs blue #fic #Kaleidoscope #lavernius tucker #agent washington #agent carolina #michael j caboose #caboose #epsilon|church #epsilon #arguments #self relection #spartan!caboose #reality check #all churches are dicks #did you know that my computer crashed and I nearly lost this chapter? #thank god for obsessive saving #a bug wrote this

[kitkat1003]

Who Are You Really?

Chapter 3: To Mold; To Raise One

Summary: 

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked. The warrior was forgotten by the hero. By everyone. And Macaque? He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Spirit Masterpost

If he had to say anything on the matter, he would have said they’re useful.

It hadn’t taken much, not really.  He finds them in the woods, alone with nothing to their name but whispers of favors to powerful people and three eyes that stare through you.  He finds them, appraises them, and despite the way their tail curls around their leg and despite the way they hunch down on themself, something is there.  A little broken, but there.

Like a memory of a debt owed, Macaque knows he can fix them and is willing to try.

Convincing them isn’t difficult.  They perk up at the word favor, ears pressed up against the sides of their head and their eyes wide and earnest.  Desperate for a use, excited to have purpose—he dangles it in front of them and pulls them in.

There were more than a few roadblocks.

There is the anxiety, of course.  Kid barely can stand the sight of their own shadow, much less the ones he can summon at the drop of a hat.  He gets them used to the clones soon enough.  Exposure works wonders, and if they don’t like it at first?  Tough.  The clones are a part of him, he says  It wasn’t as if he could just get rid of them because they don’t like them.

A well placed guilt trip, and Kid stumbles over themselves to fix their error.  Good.

They’re soft.  Gentle.  Caring for all the other living creatures almost to the point of those being above their own needs and wants.  Careful of pretty flowers they don’t want to step on, kind to the trees and grass as much as one can be.

Wide eyed, but not doe eyed.  Their eyes are something, though.

It’s interesting to watch the large pupil move, the smaller two following.  They bounce around like ping pong balls, always taking in every detail.  When they wink, they either close the large one, or the two smaller ones.  Sometimes, when they’re trying to focus on something, they’ll close one of the smaller eyes.

“My vision’s a little lopsided,” they admit, when he questions.  “It, uh, can make things blurry.”

Not doe eyed, he knows, when he looks at them.  The furtive way they glance around.  They look at dead animals far too long to be normal.  Stare wistfully out at human settlements.  And when they’re not looking at anything, their eyes look...tired.  Empty.

Haunted, even.

Guess they call themselves Spirit for a reason.

It takes a while to teach them to stop caring about the petals you ruin in your walk, to crush bugs underfoot without thought.  It would go faster if he taught them the hard way, with broken bones and bloodied fists, but breaking more than they already are serves no purpose.  Beyond it all, Macaque wants a tool to use, and a tool shattered beyond repair isn’t useful.  So he has to be patient about it.

Of course, his patience runs out sometimes, but they never complain.  Maybe he gets used to yelling.  It shuts them up real quick, so it works.

Training them is another matter.  As much as he wants to beat all of the lessons he’d learned into them, he has to be patient.  A warrior isn’t made on the first day, there’s a process.  And they’re flighty, too.  One wrong move and they might run away.  Sure, he knew they’d come back, like a dog on a leash whenever the word favor was involved, but waiting would add more time to the process.

So he takes things slow.  Somehow.

They have stamina.  Running and jumping through forests day by day leaves them lithe and lean when it comes to muscles.  They tower over him even when they bend over; they are always bent over.  He forces them to stand up straight, just to get a measure of their height, and they loom like a tree in the forests surrounding them.

A good foundation, but their stance is so easily toppable that he barely has to push them and they stumble back, falling to the ground.

So he starts there.

“You need to be unmovable,” he says, using a stick found in the woods to prod at their limbs until they’re in the right position.  “Rooted to the ground.”

“Like a flower?” they reply, turning their head around to look at him.

He smacks them on the side of the head with the stick for that.

“Like a tree,” he corrects.  “Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick a flower?”

He hears them mutter about how they think it wouldn’t be too bad to be picked, but they correct their stance and go silent before he can bark at them to be quiet.

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked.

The warrior was forgotten by the hero.

By everyone.

And Macaque?

He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Once their stance is steady, he teaches them self defense.  How to punch without breaking your fingers.  How to kick without losing your balance.  How to dodge, duck, strike.

Kid takes to it like a duck to water, with a few hiccups.  The largest of which is a lack of want to land a hit.

Oh, they’re plenty strong.  They can lift up half a tree’s worth of firewood with a bit of strain.  They could likely kick harder than they punch, with how much they run, but to get them to do either is an uphill battle.

“C’mon kid, hit me,” he says, gesturing to his chest.

They pale, shoulders hunched, fingers rubbing against each other awkwardly as they keep them from becoming a fist.

“But-why?  I don’t want to, uh, hurt you.” They frown at the thought.

Macaque laughs.

“You can’t hurt me, trust me.  I’ve been hit by bigger and stronger people than you, kid,” he gives them a half grin and snorts at the thought of them being able to hit that hard.

“I don’t…” They draw circles in the dirt with their toe, glancing between him and their feet.  “I don’t like hurting people.”

He sighs, long suffering.  “You have someone you want to protect?” he asks.

They blink a few times.  He watches their pupils dilate, shifting as they think.  They don’t have the best poker face, but when they want to hide something, their face becomes carefully blank, a slate wiped clean.

It’s kind of creepy, in a way.

“Not anymore,” they finally mutter, forlorn.  Ears downturned.

There’s something deeper there, but Macaque doesn’t have time to hear their life’s story.  Especially when they’re training.  

“Yeah, you do have someone.” He walks over and sticks his finger into their chest, poking them hard enough that they wince.  “You.  You want to stay alive?  You fight.”

They stare at him, hard, and he raises a brow.

“Look,” he says.  “You hate anyone?”

Kid glances down at him—he hates that they’re taller than him, even when they’re hunched down—and their gaze flashes to something dark.

He stares back.

“Yes,” they whisper.  “Some.  One.”

Macaque does not stiffen.  There’s nothing haunting about how quietly, how gently, how angrily Kid says that.

“Alright then,” he takes a step back, arms splayed out to make himself a target.  “Hit me like I’m that person.”

He watches them stare at him.  They tilt their head to the side.  Their pupils shift.

A minute passes, and Macaque is about to say something else, when they blink once, and then strike.

His clothes are ripped, a slash across his chest.  Kid holds their hand out like it’s a weapon, claws bared.  They took off some fur, too, but they didn’t go deep enough to break skin, though Macaque thinks it’s not for lack of trying.

Another blink, and they come to, yanking their hand back and cradling it against their chest.

“Oh-sorry-I-I was just doing what you told me, and, uh, I didn’t,” they mutter out more apologies, looking away.

Macaque laughs.

“No, no, that was great!  We’ll have to get you used to punching and kicking, but using claws ain’t half bad.” He looks them up and down, seeing them in a new light.  “If you like something sharp, then, well, we might as well get you a weapon, right?”

“A...weapon?” They look surprised that he’s not upset.  

Macaque only yells when they make a mistake, though.  And when they’re being annoying, but regardless.  Why punish them for a job well done?  He told them to hit him, and they did.  Not exactly how he wanted, but as long as they’re more willing to fight, he wants to encourage the behavior.  An inch of negativity towards them and they’ll jump a mile back from where he wants them to be.

“Something sharp,” he repeats.  “Claws will only get you so far.”

He pulls out his staff, twirling it around a few times before holding it out, sideways, for the kid to look at.  They peer down at it, tilting their head to the side.  They close one of their eyes, to focus.  Their eyes trace the spikes on the ends of the staff.  They swallow, fidgeting, as their gaze ends at the sharp points.

“It’s...nice,” they say, a little nervous.

“We should go to a market.  I’ve got a bunch of weapons we can test out, but your weapon has to be for you.” He pats the kid on the back, smiling.

“Shopping?” 

He watches them perk up, eyes wide, a smile on their lips.  There’s a certain charm to it.  As tall as they are, they have quite the young face.

“Yup,” he says.  “But first, I’m teaching you how to sew.  If you’re going to tear my clothes, you’re going to know how to fix it.”

They duck their head sheepishly, embarrassed, guilty, but happy that he’s going to teach them something new.

Hook, line, sinker.

He takes them, first, to one of his caves, his hideouts.  He has his stash of weapons there, so they can start training with them to get the kid used to weaponry before he buys them anything.

The trip takes a week, and during it he has to stop himself from strangling the kid every evening.  They light up every two seconds, prattling on about every little thing they spot, skipping along with both their pack of things and his own.  He thought making them carry his things as well as their own would get them tired enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to them chatter well into the night, but they manage to ask so many questions it makes his head spin.

“Do you think that anyone is going to like you if you never shut up?” he growls out, one night.  “I can barely hear my own thoughts, you keep spouting out all of yours.”

They blink.  Hunch their shoulders.  Shift their gaze off to the side.

“I don’t know a lot,” they mutter.  “I thought asking questions was how, uh, I learn?  My mom always had me tell her what was on my mind, so she could let me know if I was thinking of something wrong.”

They shrug their shoulders, gaze off somewhere, or sometime else.

“Well I’m not your mom,” he snaps.  “And neither is anyone else.  Trust me, no one wants to hear your thoughts.”

The kid looks up at him, hunched over and sitting down.  Their pupils shift, again.  Their expression goes carefully blank.

“Oh,” tThey reply.  “Sorry.”

Macaque lets out a huff.  He doesn’t want to be the bad guy here.  Not only is it a bad look, it also makes the kid less likely to trust him.  It’s a balancing act, where he toes the line.  Sure, the kid can take a bit more attitude than most, but you kick a dog enough and it bites back.

If you kick a dog, and then feed it nice food for a month before kicking it again, well...it takes it a lot longer to think of biting.

“Look,” he sighs.  “I’m saying this for your sake, kid.  I’m patient, but most people aren’t.  You think a regular demon will just tell you to shut up?”

He pauses, levies them an incredulous look.  “You’d lose a tooth or something, or an eye.”

They flinch, when he says eye.  He files that away for later.

“How about this,” He continues.  “You get 3 random questions per day while we walk, and 2 random comments.  Sound fair?”

Kid looks up at him, a little less despondent, and then they smile.

“Okay.” They turn to the fire, grabbing a piece of firewood from the pile and adding it to the fire.  

They glance up at Macaque, after a bit.  “Thanks.”

Macaque reaches over and ruffles their hair, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a fake smile on his face when Kid giggles and leans into the touch.

When it comes to weapons, the kid is clumsy.

Most long weapons are surprisingly difficult for them to wield.  Their height should be an advantage in that regard, giving them more of a reach, but instead all their long limbs are good for are getting hit whenever they slip with a staff or spear in hand.  They nick themselves a few times, and Macaque thinks he’s going to have to make a fuss with cleaning them up, but every time they get cut they pull out well worn gauze and some mixture, and carefully clean and wrap the wound themselves.

“My mom taught me,” they explain when he stares for too long.

Anything long is difficult for them to handle, so he throws those out the window.  Now, short blades they do well with, but they don’t like to stab.

“Curved blades,” he suggests, handing them a pair.  “They’re more for slashing.  Like a couple of extra claws, but longer.”

They hold them awkwardly, but with some careful correction they do a few practice swings, glancing over at Macaque for approval.

“Looks good,” he says, because they seem most steady with the twin blades, and that’s something to hone in on.

The kid beams.  Macaque finds himself smiling back.

They train for a couple months, not just with the curved blades.  A jack of all trades is far more useful than a master of one, after all, and letting them have at least a rudimentary understanding of how to use most weapons will make it so even if they’re without their typical arsenal, they’ll be able to make do.

That, and between the hand to hand combat lessons, will make them a force to be reckoned with, though they still refuse to strike with a killer’s intent.

All in due time, though.  Macaque would hate to waste all this effort to create something of use by scaring them off with his impatience.

They know of the Monkey King.

“I hear about him all the time,” they say, over dinner.  “He’s a very famous monkey!”

“Sure,” Macaque grumbles, ignoring the urge to punch their teeth in.

It’s not their fault, he knows.  Anyone who knows anyone would know of the Great Sun Wukong enough to—

“Have you met him?”

Now, there’s a question.  Something dark and pleased rises up when he hears it, because he can’t ruin the reputation of Sun Wukong to the world, but starting small never hurts, and why not score some trust with Kid along the way?

“We were actually pretty close,” he explains.

The look on their face when he shows them his scar and tells them how he got it is just priceless.

Shopping with them is...something else.  

He takes them to the market closeby, a few miles out from where they met in the woods.  They’re like a kid in a candy store, bouncing between market fronts and looking over every random object with interest.

“Some of the people here owe me favors,” they whisper conspiratorially to him, waving at a few of the shop owners.  “I helped them out!  It was nice.”

“Mhmm,” he nods along.

Kid is very, very insistent on favors.  The wording is important, and Macaque pockets it, pulling out the phrase whenever Kid starts to get too hesitant about doing what Macaque needs them to.

“What’s the whole favor business for, anyway?” he asks, because he genuinely is curious. 

As much as Kid’s ramblings can get annoying, they do provide insight.  Information on insecurities makes for a fun leverage.

“They owe me,” Kid replies.  “I do what they want, and then they can’t hurt me.”

Short, simple, to the point.  But oh so interesting, an insight Macaque files away.  He can’t go around hurting Kid after the favor is done, then.  That’s fine.  He has plenty of time to get them to heel without yanking on the leash.

A few tugs will do well enough, anyway.

They reach the weapon shop, and Kid is enamored with a purple pair of their preferred weapon, fluttering over to them and tracing the shapes with their fingers.  They’re practically bouncing on their feet, grabbing fistfuls of their pant legs to stop themself from snatching up their prize immediately.

They glance back to Macaque for approval.

“Not a bad color.” Macaque has always liked purple.  Maybe that’s why Kid doesn’t annoy him as much as most people.  They’re bright in personality, but wear the colors of shadows, and hide in the shade rather than stand out in the spotlight.

Kid preens at the compliment.

“Can-uh-is this what-can I have them?  Please?” They’re vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and earnest as they hope for a yes.

“Maybe,” Macaque replies, smooth as silk.  “It all depends on if you’re going to use them properly.”

That gives them pause.  Their excitement diminishes into confusion as they try and parse out just what Macaque means, ears twitching.

It is almost charming in a way, how they always seem to be moving a little bit.  Whether their tail is swaying back and forth, or they’re curling and uncurling their toes, or fluttering their fingers at their sides, they move.

“I...know how to use them,” they finally say.  “You taught me.”

“Practically,” Macaque replies.  “But you still won’t fight with them.”

Kid blinks again, tilting their head to the side.  Genuinely confused, befuddled, uncertain of his words.  He watches their eyes slide to the side, glancing around and trying to figure out what exactly he means.

“I…,” they start, haltingly.  “I thought I was?”

Macaque sighs, more out of exhaustion than annoyance, but they take it as such, ears drooping low.  Their tail brushes the floor.

“Intent, kid,” he says.  “You can use the weapons, but you don’t fight with them.  Not with intent.”

“Intent to what?” Kid asks, hesitant but insistent.

“Kill,” Macaque says, simply.  “These weapons are for killing.  If you aren’t going to use them like that, there’s no point in you getting them.  No point in continuing the favor.”

He can tell the second part hits them hard.  They stiffen, hands clasping in front of their stomach, tight.  Their feet overlap each other, toes curled, shoulders hunched, tail coiled around their leg.

Fidgeting, tense like a coiled spring, Macaque waits, because he’s seen this before.  Every time he pushes, they duck their head in quiet defiance for only a moment, before

They buckle, going limp.

“No,” they mutter.  “You’re right.  I’ll get intent, sir.”

Sir is new.

Macaque likes it. 

“Good.  Then they’re yours—” He gestures to the twin blades, with purple glossy handles and white grips.  “Take them.”

Their smile is smaller than it was before, when they pull the pair from the rack.  Their hands tremble when they hold them; they grip the blades tight to keep them steady.

Macaque pays for the blades, and ignores how still they’ve become.

With Kid’s preferred blades acquired, Macaque ramps up training.  He pushes them farther, because he’s laid the groundwork, and now the only way to get them to bend is to force them into the position.

Starting small is important.  Kid is still fit to scatter if he scares them.  It’s like placing a frog in a pot of boiling water.  It doesn’t work.  You set them in the room temperature water first, and then turn up the heat.  Slowly, still.  If he cranked it up now, well, they’d still jump out.

So, they start with a shadow clone.  Looks like a real person, but is detached enough from it that Kid won’t get too freaked when they attack it.  No blood, no screams, just smoke and mirrors to get them in action.

Maybe he should be concerned that he’s teaching them to fight a visage of him, but Macaque knows Kid isn’t stupid enough to think they can beat him.

That would be ridiculous.

He guides them through the motions, hands on their wrists as he tugs their arms into the correct positions, jerking their hand forward in a slashing motion and letting go just as they make contact with the clone, dissipating it with a single strike.

Typically his clones are more powerful, but an easy win to start will embolden them to strike harder next time.

“Nice job!” he pats them on the back, hard enough that they stumble a little from the force of it.

They’re smiling though, small and secretly pleased.  They love praise, he finds, desperate for approval.  A few kind words can feed them for a week, if he plans it out right.  Not that he’s always planning.  Some do just...slip out.

“Now,” he summons another clone, placing it a few feet away.  “Try this one on your own.”

Kid nods, turns, and settles into a stance.  They charge forward and strike.

Macaque smiles.

From clones, comes animals.

After all, he explains, they have to eat.  Sure, a true warrior eats less than most, but they still need to have food.  Starving themselves when they’re in the middle of training, in the middle of gaining muscle and strength, is stupid.  They need to bulk up.

“I don’t, um, usually eat much,” Kid says.

Macaque scoffs.

“That’s why you’re a stick.” He gestures to their general size, how their clothes hang off of them.

They fidget, shrugging a little.

“I guess,” they reply, which is their typical response when they don’t exactly agree but don’t have the courage to actually disagree.

“Well, I know,” he bites back, finding some sort of pleasure in how they shrink away from him.  “We need to make sure you know how to make food anyway.  You’re no use to me half-starved.”

He drums up options, glancing off into the forest they’re surrounded by.

“There’s plenty of food out here,” he says.  “We can fish in streams, shoot for birds, and there’s a human settlement just out west a couple miles, so—”

“We are not,” Kid interrupts, interrupts, voice harder than he’s ever heard, “Eating humans.”

Their eyes are sharp.  Angry, even.  So rarely does he find anger in them, find fire where there is cool terror and anxiety.  This is something noticeable.  Kid likes humans, enough to fight for them.

They’re trembling, waiting for his reaction.  Clearly, they’re terrified that he’ll snap at them, that he’ll shut them down.  But they don’t apologize.

Interesting.  How rare is it that Macaque sees them be brave?

“Fine,” he shrugs.  “They scream too much to be worth it, anyway.”

That much is true.  While he might not be showing off the six ears that beget his title, they’re still there, and shouting is nothing that he wants to deal with.

Kid relaxes, relief evident on their face that he’s not yelling at them.  It’s good that they’re smart enough to fear his reproach.

“But, that means you’re gonna have to learn to gut fish,” he jerks a thumb towards the stream behind them.  

Kid smiles, with all their sharp teeth on display.

“Sir yes sir!” They salute.

Macaque has to wonder who taught them such a motion as they jump up and rush to the water.

He stands and prepares the next lesson.

In the weeks following, they learn to fish with both a line and with their hands.  He teaches them to use a bow for the birds, as well as the bears.  They only kill one bear, because the amount of meat will last them ages and it’s foolish to waste such meat.

They trade some of it for spices in the human markets, once Macaque makes sure they know how to look human.  Apparently, it’s the only form they can shift into.  Not surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.

Kid takes to cooking with a gusto he doesn’t expect.

“I would help my mom with dinner,” they explain, setting up the fire one night.  “I didn’t know how she was making what she was, but I loved all of it.  I—”

They cut themself off, suddenly shy.

Macaque doesn’t pry.  Half because he doesn’t care, and half because he knows it’s a fruitless endeavor.  For most things, Kid can be cajoled into explanation, but if they truly don’t want to say anything, he’ll get nothing.  Which, considering his secrets, is fair enough.

“I...like that I can make something nice,” Kid finally admits, turning away from him to grab some spices.  “For you.”

Oh.

Somewhere along the line, Macaque stops finding them as annoying as they should be.

They smile at him like he’s a star, the sun, and years of being a moon, of being second best, makes that look something to covet.  If that means he lets them drag him into the forest to look at some rare plants, if that means listening to them ramble about the medicinal properties of said plants, well.

It’s only because it ingratiates them to him.  That’s it.

Physical affection, too, is something they desire.  It’s a reward.  That is it.  A reward for a job well done, a pick-me-up when they’re too morose to be useful, a new tool in his set to fix them into something worthwhile.

Say nothing to the times they shivered in the cold, slowly shifting towards him, pressed against his back to conserve warmth.  Macaque didn’t push them off because he was asleep.  Say nothing to the days they would shiver in the day, lack of proper fur like he had to keep them warm, and he’d lend them his scarf.  He didn’t need it anyway.  He’s stronger than they are, he can deal with the cold.  He’s setting an example.

He refuses to groom them.  Grooming is something private, something reserved for people who are no longer around, who left, who left and took the whole of him with them.  And Kid is not that someone.

Sometimes, though, he wonders.

Bright, like a star, they can shine in the darkest corners.  Hands bloodied from a carcass, they’re always gentle with the animals they kill.  Always certain to make the cuts clean and precise, so the animal dies quickly.

It’s a small mercy, but to choose to find that mercy and lean into it…

They’re not naive.  Neither was he.  Enough knowledge of a cruel world to understand hate, but enough kindness in a soul to push back against it.  But that type of soul is flighty, off to the next weeping child to console, the next problem to solve, the next world to save.

That type of soul leaves, and doesn't come back.

Better to crush that type of soul, then.

“Mac!” Kid calls, holding a full net.  “Look at how much fish I caught!”

Macaque fights a smile.

“Don’t call me that,” he barks out and wishes it hurt less when he sees them flinch.

“Sorry, sir,” they reply.  “I got excited.  We’ll have food for weeks!  I’ll dry some of the fish out for snacks, and I have some spices that would go really well with—”

They pause, flushing, ears pointed up and pink with embarrassment.  They bite their lip.

“Sorry,” They say, again.  “I know you don’t like me rambling…,”

Not typically, no.

But now…

“Well, if it’s about our food stores, it’s important,” he says, a justification that rings hollow.  “So go on, kid.”

They brighten, eyes wide and happy as Macaque becomes their sun, again.

Macaque basks in it, just a little, and thinks he can wait a little longer.

They get very good at using the blades.  Between traveling, getting food, making food, and training, they can hold their own pretty well.

Of course, they only really fight animals and clones.  Whenever Macaque suggests they spar with him, they lock up, terrified by the idea.  That’s fine, though, because Macaque wants them to be in top shape when they actually fight him, anyway.

They can manage against eight clones at once, dodging punches and slashing through them.  Of course, the clones aren’t at their top durability or strength, because Kid isn’t Monkey King levels of powerful like he is.

But, they seem to be doing fine, so he raises the intensity level a little bit.  Has a couple of the clones level up, so to speak, to keep Kid on their toes.  They can’t expect every enemy to be the same skill level every time.  They have to be used to surprises.

Maybe he does it too quickly, because Kid ducks, slashes, and is unable to dodge the kick to their side that sends them flying.

Their head cracks against a tree trunk just outside the clearing.

When they drop, they don’t move.

Macaque is up on his feet in an instant.  The clones vanish as he sprints across the clearing, at Kid’s side so fast his vision blurs with the motion.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Macaque lifts Kid up in his arms.  They’re limp in his grasp, eyes closed, and they look dead but he knows they’re not, he checks their pulse and they’re fine, it’s fine.  He wouldn’t kill them.  Not like this.  

He feels where their head hit the tree, and his hand comes back wet.  

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He reaches into Kid’s pockets, and finds that roll of gauze they always have on them.  They buy a new roll every time they go to the market, just in case.

He hasn’t needed to wrap wounds in a while, considering his healing...style, but he remembers how it goes.

Blood drips onto the ground, even as he wraps the wound as best and as tight as he can.  He folds Kid’s gangly long limbs so he can lift them up, and their forehead rests in the crook of his neck.  He can feel their breath on his fur.

Good.  They’re still breathing.

He squats down and presses hard against the dirt, lifting off the ground and speeding through the forest.  There’s a demon market a few miles out, there’s got to be a healer there, they can fix this.  They will, whether they like to or not.  No one says no to the Six-Eared Macaque, regardless of circumstance.

He hears a shuddering whine crawl out of Kid’s mouth.  A hand grasps at his shirt, as pained gasps reach his ears.

He can hear them so clearly.  Curse of six ears.  But, he can still hear their heartbeat, and even the gasps are a good sign.  They can still breathe.  It’s fine.

“Give me a minute, kid.” He whispers, forgiving the hand because they’re injured, that’s the only reason.  “We’ll get you fixed up, just sit tight.”

They whimper and curl up tighter, as their wrappings on their head stain quick.

It takes Macaque twenty minutes to get to the market.  Twenty minutes for eleven miles, as he rushed between trees, over boulders and hills, through towns.  It would have been quicker, but whenever he picked up too much speed, Kid would whimper as the wind whipped at their face and head wrappings.  So Macaque took it a touch slower, if only to keep him from hearing that noise.

They’d passed out a few minutes before he’d arrived at the market, though, so he’d managed to speed things up a little.

He slips between the shadows of market stalls, eyes searching for a healer.  They’re typically at one end of the market or the other, to keep the stench of blood and pus and rot from infected wounds away from the rest of the market.

He finds the tent and dashes inside.

The healer is some sort of fox demon, tail twitching as Macaque enters.  Sharp eyes fall on him and then Kid in his arms, and when Macaque speaks up his tone leaves little room for argument or reproach.

“They hit their head.” He doesn’t explain how.  It’s none of their business what he does with his tools.  “Fix it.”

The healer raises a brow, glancing at the two monkeys, one with sharp eyes and the other curled and trembling in the other’s arms.

“There is a fee,” comes a silk voice, near a hiss.  They point to their price.

Macaque summons a clone and sets Kid in its arms, growling under his breath.  He digs into his pocket and pulls out his coin pouch, digging into it and grabbing out the correct amount.  He slams it onto the counter with a force that would have caused the coins to scatter all over the room if not for how tightly he grips them in his fist.

They trickle down onto the desk with a clatter.  Macaque places his trembling fists at his sides, enraged enough that his eyes glow.  If not for the fact that this healer is needed, their blood would paint the tent and everything inside of it.

The wary look the healer sends him is proof that they understand that.

“Fix,” he growls.  “It.”

The healer gestures to the table off to the side, and Macaque has his clone set Kid down before dispelling it.

The healer moves Kid onto their side, lifting their head and glancing at the covered wound.  With a careful claw, they cut away the bandage, a swirl of magic creating a small bubble over the wound, keeping the blood from spilling.

The lack of pressure, the new sensation of magic, gets Kid to stir.

They twitch, fingers and toes curling as their eyes blink open.  Confusion paints their posture and expression, and they take in a hitching breath, ears swiveling to try and figure what is happening.

“M-Mo-Mac-h-hhhhhh,” they gasp out, trying to move.

The healer presses them gently back down onto the table, placing a careful finger to their forehead.

“Shhhh,” they whisper.  “Rest, child.”

Kid’s eyes slide shut.  They relax.

The healer first gets a rag and some water, carefully dabbing at the wound, cleaning away any dirt that may have gotten into the crack.  They use their claws to align the tiny pieces of the skull that have dislodged both from the wound and from the journey.  Then, they grab a jar off of the shelf, pulling off the lid and dipping their fingers in to scoop out an orange-yellow cream substance.  Gently, they rub it across the wound, and then wrap it again.

They use a spoon to put more of that cream into a smaller jar, and hand it to Macaque, along with a roll of gauze.

“The wound will heal in a few days.  Change the bandages twice a day and reapply the cream.  It speeds up the process and prevents infection,” the healer explains.  “The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.  Be aware.”

Macaque sticks the jar and gauze in his pocket and nods, picking Kid up.  He’s gentle about it, supporting their head on his shoulder.  They shift a little in their sleep, pressing their forehead against his neck.  Their fur brushes against his chin.

Their tail curls around his arm, a comforting squeeze.  The end wisps against his palm.

Macaque pointedly ignores how any of this makes him feel and heads off.

Back at camp, he sets Kid up with blankets and enough soft material for a pillow, making sure their head is elevated and kept away from the hard ground.  He sends a few clones out to grab firewood, setting up a flame and throwing some stuff together for a soup.

Macaque, on a whole, doesn’t cook much.  He’s content to chomp on apples and whatever fruits he finds.  Occasionally, he’ll cook some meat.  Otherwise, he just won’t eat often.  Kid’s the one who makes all the different concoctions.

He hopes the mix of spices is good here.

Kid wakes up a few hours later, when stars dot the sky and Macaque shivers a little at the night chill.  Bleary eyes stare up at the sky, pupils shifting to try and focus, though Macaque doesn’t see them settle.

He scoops a bowl of soup, still warm though the fire has died down, and shuffles to Kid’s side.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers.  

Macaque is not a delicate man.  But no one is here to see, no one who could matter, so he hooks an arm beneath Kid’s shoulders and lifts them up so they’re sitting up against his chest, though not fully considering the height difference.  God knows they won’t be able to sit up on their own, and he refuses to waste good soup.

Bleary eyes blink, staring up at him.  Recognition flickers in their gaze.

“Mom?” they croak.

Macaque.  Freezes.

He carefully lifts the bowl of soup to Kid’s mouth.

“Drink,” he says, pointedly ignoring their comment.

Hallucinations, the healer told him.  That’s all this is.  Kid isn’t seeing him, after all.

Kid takes a few steady gulps of the soup, turning away to breathe.  Macaque exercises patients by glancing up at the sky and ignoring how idiotic this is.  He’s not a babysitter.  He doesn’t do this.  He isn’t their parent.  He isn’t...

“Did Dad hurt you?” Kid turns back, looking up with eyes that stare through him rather than at him.  “Your eye…”

They reach up, fingers close enough to brush the line where his scar is, hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque pulls away, lifting the bowl up to Kid’s lips again in lieu of responding to that.

“Drink,” he snarls.

They flinch, nodding and getting the rest of the soup down.  He helps them back to their bed, and their eyes stare back up at the sky with that same faraway look.

“I’ll be better next time,” they whisper, quiet but strong.  “So you won’t get hurt.”

Macaque turns away, and doesn’t look back until he knows they’re asleep.  Hallucinations, he knows.  Hallucinations.  That’s the only reason they’re saying anything like that at all.  They don’t know him, he’s kept his heart under his cloak, never on his sleeve.  That's why he’s their teacher, so they will learn to do the same.

He watches the fire sway in the night, until he can find it in himself to sleep.

The next day goes mostly smoothly, with incoherent ramblings occasionally from Kid that Macaque tunes out.  He changes their bandages in the morning and then goes out, leaving a shadow clone to watch the camp while collecting food and other supplies.

They sleep through most of the day, but at night when he goes to change their bandages again, they start to squirm.

“Kid,” he starts, trying to hold them steady.  The wrappings are already off, and he’s trying to keep dirt from getting in.  

They kick and writhe, whispering and growling and making an assortment of whimpering noises he can’t make heads nor tails of.  He grips them tight enough to bruise, to keep them steady.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts.

“YOU HURT ME!” they scream, and it sounds so much as if the words had been torn from their throat that Macaque is surprised he doesn’t see blood splatter out of their mouth.  “YOU HURT ME!”

Their hand claws at his, and he drops them with a shout of pain as they tear off the skin of his knuckles.  They drop to the dirt with their own short cry of discomfort, curling in on themself as Macaque backs away.

“You—” They cough.  Their breaths are short and uneven.  “You-it-it’s like an earthquake,” their voice is quiet and strained and quick.  “Cracks beneath the surface.  Snow, melting from inside.  Inside out.  Cracking.  Melting.  I’m-I’m-I can’t see it.”

They gasp it out, trembling.

The water is boiling.  Why is Macaque the one burning?

They still. 

“You don’t look,” they finally say, a hoarse whisper.  “You don’t want to.  You don’t want to see.”

Macaque swallows.  Stares at the-the—

The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.

Child.

He shuffles forward, so, so gentle as he reaches toward them.  They don’t move when his hand brushes against their back.  They’re boneless when he pulls them toward him.  As if every last drop of them was poured into their words, they’re empty.

He patches their wound.  Sets them down.  They’re silent, asleep on the bed.

He sits, watches the blood from his knuckles drip to the ground.  It’ll heal on its own.  He can heal on his own.

He doesn’t sleep.

The next couple of days are easy.  Kid doesn’t say or do much, moving when prompted and sleeping when not.  Macaque ignores the buzz in the back of his head that feels like guilt.  He leaves Kid with a shadow clone and tears down a forest.  Anger is easy to deal with.  This is not.

A little under a week after the incident, Kid wakes up with a groan.

“Mac?” They rub at their eyes sitting up with a bit of effort.

Macaque fights the urge to tell them not to call him that.  He’ll save it for later.

“About time you woke up,” he says, with an easy grin on his face.

Kid blinks up at him, confused. 

“You hit your head,” he explains with a wave of his hand.  “One of my clones caught you off guard.  You were out for a few days.”

Kid blinks a few more times, tail and ears twitching.  They tilt their head to the side in thought.  They reach up and feel the back of their head, poking at the freshly healed wound.  They wince.

“Oh,” they say.  They smile up at him.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

They stand up on shaky legs, shuffling a little before they steady.

“I’m gonna see about some food.  I’ll make you your favorite tonight!” They grin, all teeth, and vanish into the forest before Macaque can stop them.

He stares at their retreating form.  He sends a shadow clone to keep an eye on them, in case their wound acts up.

He sits and ponders their smile.

YOU HURT ME!

Thank you for taking care of me.

The strange thing is, he doesn’t think they were lying either time.

He eases them back into training, and they fall back into it with ease, the injury fading from view as their fur covers it up.  He’s still ever so careful the next couple of weeks.  The last thing he needs is for them to get hurt again.

They’re too much like him.  Too much like the sun, the hero, but the difference is that the hero could be like that because he was powerful.  The hero could strike down any foe, the hero had power.  It allowed him to be soft.

Kid does not have power.  They can get hurt.  They can die.

Their heart is on their sleeve.  They smile.  They curl up, sometimes, hiding their chest, but more often than not they’re splayed out, an open target.  Wide eyed, not completely naive, but just hopeful enough to get them killed.

And he...he doesn’t want them killed.

It’s sad, he thinks.  If they were stronger, maybe they could stay as they are.  But they aren’t, so he will rip their heart from their sleeve and teach them to keep it hidden.  

Whether they like it or not.

“You’re too...you. To be intimidating like I am,” he tells them, pacing.  “But there are different types of scary.  We’ll have to find the one that fits you.”

Kid is sitting on a rock, watching him pace.  Their eyes follow his movements like a pendulum, swinging back and forth.  They tap their palms on their knees, nodding along as they listen.

“Um, Mac?” They start.

He glares in their direction.  They shrink down, shoulders hunched.

“Sir,” they amend, quickly.  “Um, why do I have to be scary?”

It’s a valid question.  Annoying, but fair, and an explanation will get them to further listen.  Still, the fact that they don’t know, when they’re as old as they are (not that Macaque knows how old they are), is annoying.

“Because,” he stresses, rolling his eyes.  “When you intimidate, people won’t fight you.  Intimidation is making sure everyone in the room knows you’re the strongest one there.  Even if you’re not.”

And they won’t be, more often than not.  They’re crafty, and fast, but not strong.  In a standstill fight, they’ll lose a lot.  But that’s why the intimidation look has to be perfect.

“Oh,” they reply.  “Cool!”

“Of course it is,” he shoots back, puffing out his chest.  “Now, angry intimidation won’t work.  You don’t have a good angry face.”

“I don’t get angry often,” Kid shrugs.

“Exactly.  You don’t have it in you,” he rubs his chin in thought.  “We could go for the ‘danger behind a smile’ angle.”

He takes a few steps toward them.  With how they’re sitting, a rock as a prop up, he’s at eye level with them standing.

“We want a small smile, kid.” He reaches a hand towards their face, to help shape their grin.

They flinch back, and have their blades out in a flash.  Their eyes are wide, locked onto Macaque’s outstretched hand.

Macaque blinks, startled by their sharp shift in mood, and Kid comes back to themself, lowering their hunched shoulders.

“O-oh,” They breathe, letting their hands drop.  “Right.  Y-you’re right.  I think.”

They set the blades on the ground, shuffling their feet.

“...Alright,” Macaque continues.  He knows they were hit by a clone of his, and, well, the clones are made looking like him.  They might be more shaky than they say, over that.  He certainly has taught them to be quiet. “Now, you want the smile to be small.  Your eyes are wide, and your pupils are small.  You want to look like you’re a second from ripping their heart out and eating it in front of them.”

Kid makes a face.  “That’s gross,” they say.

“It’s an analogy,” Macaque groans, throwing his head back and slapping a hand over his eyes.  “Just do it.”

They try it, and Macaque has to give them a few pointers.  No, your smile is too wide.  Don’t fidget.  Keep your tail still.  Don’t look away.  Keep eye contact.

Finally, they have a good look.

“There,” he says, stepping back.  “That will make sure nobody messes with or hurts you, kid.”

Their expression drops away into something blank, and Macaque stills.  He wouldn’t tell them, but when their expression is empty it’s far scarier than their smile.  Better they not know that lest they use it to an excessive degree.

“Um,” they start, a little shy.  “But, you do this.  And you got hurt?”

Their eyes trace the scar hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque turns so that eye is out of view.

“It doesn’t always work,” he mutters, casting a glare in their direction.  “Because some people know that they’re stronger than anyone, so intimidation doesn’t work.”

“What do I do then?” they ask, with all the wide eyes of a student expecting their teacher to have the perfect answer.

“You claw at any part of them you can reach,” Macaque replies.  “And you run.”

He ramps up their training.  Any time they aren’t traveling is spent sparring, practicing, cooking, hunting, no free time.  No time to play or joke around.

They’re confused, at first, by the change of pace.  They try the same tricks, the same comments.  Macaque does not budge.

“Quit it.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

They quiet, eventually.  Learn to be smaller and less bright, keep their light within themself so it doesn’t attract too much attention.  They learn to keep their thoughts inside, following orders with a blank face and the occasional grin.

They still get overexcited, and sometimes Macaque bites his tongue.  If it’s just around him then it’s fine in small doses.

It’s not because he’s scared of their light going out.  It’s not because he likes it when they ramble and drag him along until they get him to grin.  It’s not.

He gets them a new outfit.  Their old one is worn, the fabric thin and worn and ripping.  They sew up the patches and clean it as best they can, but considering the age it’s soon to be a lost cause. 

They do love shopping, so he strings them along.

They sprint through different styles.  Everything is new and interesting to them, as if they spend time outside of the present and are then shocked by the new future.  He trails them along different stalls, pulls them away from items they shouldn’t touch, and critiques outfit after outfit.

They find the right one, though he’s quick to tell them how rare that is, so they don’t get a big head.  Besides, with how tall and gangly they are, finding something that fits them is pretty difficult.  It takes them two hours to find something right, two hours better spent training, moving around.

He goes up to pay for it while they spin around and jump excitedly in their new look, and his eyes widen at the price.

“Enchanted pockets,” the tailor explains.  “They hold up to a full pack’s worth of items without showing it.”

And, well, Macaque didn’t expect to spend this much.  He turns around, because they don’t need those pants, they can carry a pack just fine, and—

Kid sees him looking and waves, gesturing to their new outfit and striking a valiant pose.

Macaque sighs, softens, and pays.

They tell him the flaps on the side are just like his, something excited and happy in their tone, and he grins.  If they’re just like him, then they’ll be smart.  If they’re just like him, they won’t make silly mistakes like trusting people, like getting attached, like getting hurt.

The issue with that is when you stare at a person who is functionally a mirror, you start to see all your flaws.

His final challenge isn’t supposed to work.

Kid has barely been able to spar with him, when he gives them his challenge.  They spar and they don’t fight hard, and Macaque always wins.  

But then they say they have to go, and Macaque knows they’re not ready (secretly, they’ll never be ready because they’ll never be powerful enough, but if he keeps them within arms reach he can make sure they stay away from him) so he picks something he knows they can’t do.

Kill.

He expects them to get to where that demon is and balk.  He expects that they’ll try but their fears will halt them in their tracks, and they’ll come back with their tail tucked between their legs and apologies spilling from their lips.  He expects that he’ll smile, and say that they’ll just have to stay with him, then, now won’t they?  And then they will, and everything will be fine and good and right.

He doesn’t need or want anyone, but...he doesn’t mind if they’d stay.

He doesn’t know them.  He doesn’t know what they’ve lived through, what they’ve done before.  He doesn’t know how deep their ties to favors run.  He’s never asked, he doesn’t know.

Two days after he tells them to kill, they come back with a severed head.

They’re smiling, when they do.  Their tail curls around their leg and they’re trembling, but they’re smiling like they always do.  Macaque is supposed to be able to tell when someone is lying, and he’s supposed to know them and read them like an open book, but Kid smiles and it looks real.

They’re trembling.  He barely hears what they’re saying, over the sound of their thudding heartbeat.

The eyes on the head are sewn shut.  He asks, and they give him an excuse, and he doesn’t press because he never has.  He’s never cared enough to ask about their past, their feelings, never dug deep enough.  He thought they were surface-level, because they’re quiet, and they don’t talk about themself too much beyond comments about their mother.  He’s staring at a stranger he’s known for over half a year.

He’s not supposed to be caught off guard.  So self-assured, he plans his schemes with the knowledge that he understands all the moves the player will make.  Now he’s in the dark, lost with the simple sight in front of him.

Macaque doesn’t understand, but if Kid’s a stranger he’ll keep them as one.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two gifts.  He’d gotten them months ago, finding a jeweler who could enchant the token, and a book binder at the market that could create a tome practically infinite in space but small enough to be a notebook.

He holds it out, and then they smile so wide he thinks it could crack the porcelain of the mask of indifference they’re wearing so perfectly.  They strangle their tail as if it were their neck, and he knows that must hurt.

They have blood, staining their feet.  Every part of them is pristine, but the dried blood is crusted on their feet, covered with dirt.

He watches them go, tired eyes and bloody feet.

He makes his dinner by himself.  He makes the fire by himself, he sits by the fire by himself.  He sleeps by himself.  He travels by himself.

There is no voice, pointing out different flowers.  He doesn’t hear about this certain mixture that can cure this illness.  He doesn’t get any anecdotes, he doesn’t hear the patter of feet as they run ahead.

It’s quiet, save for the typical sounds of the forest.  As it should be. 

The Six-Eared Macaque walks alone.

Just like a warrior should be.  Isn’t that why they left, to be alone?  Isn’t that what he wanted?

Macaque ends up back on that cliff, where they stared up at the sky on New Year's.  He never cared much for the holiday, but the Kid was insistent, so he'd let them drag him along. 

He closes his eyes, and for the first time when he thinks of fireworks he doesn't see Wukong's smile. When he opens them, the sky looks devoid of stars. 

The moon looks lonely, without them.

.

.

.

Centuries later, a silver token with amethyst gemstone eyes buzzes in Spirit’s pocket.

#kitkat1003 #Yin Spirit #lego monkie kid #monkie kid oc #monkie kid #monkie kid macaque

[the-phantom-ender]

Oh!!

What about Dream?

(Thank you for enjoying my work!)

I am not a c!Dream apologist. But I am a c!Dream sympathizer. I don’t excuse his actions but I acknowledge that he is traumatized and hurting. I debated on if I wanted to write a prison visit or not, but I had an idea that stuck.

A quick note to the fact that this is more graphic than the others so far! It contains the described aftermath of torture and gore. Be careful! 

He did not go to the prison expecting to be let in. Foolish had fully expected Sam to entirely decline him. He expected to approach the warden, ask to be let into the prison, and immediately be told no. As far as he knew, the prison wasn’t allowing visitors. When a prisoner kills a man within the walls of the prison, they’re traditionally refused visitation rights. 

Much to his surprise… this was not what happened. He’d walked up to Sam, asked the question, and watched Sam’s eyes grow weary. Not a word more was shared between them as Foolish was led to the entrance of Pandora's Vault. No words were spoken between either of them other than direction and confirmation. 

This, admittedly, made the totem god a bit nervous. The expression Sam wore was not one of a hardened prison warden, but instead of someone who expected the worst. Foolish knew he was powerful, but he meant no harm. Sam knew this, he did, he’d told him just that. Still… the warden was scared of him. He’d seen divine intervention. Maybe he didn’t believe that Foolish was peaceful. 

He shook his head, reciting what was asked of him and signing his name in books, as required. Or, well, he signed “Foolish”. While it would have been more proper to sign his formal name, a god sharing their title was much more dangerous in text than it was verbally- and he was even hesitant to say it aloud. Everyone here knew him by the name, it was tied to him in this place, so there should be no issue with that. 

The first and only break from the call and response came when Foolish was standing on the platform before the lava lowered. Sam cleared his throat, getting his attention. His eyes were stormy despite a mostly blank expression. And then he passed the god his sword. Warden’s Will glinted, runes flicking in the light and displaying how utterly dangerous it was. Foolish was confused. Wasn’t the whole point to not have weapons in the cell? Nothing the prisoner could use to escape? 

“Wh-”

“If you’re here, I’m sure there’s a reason that will be aided by this weapon.”

“No.” Foolish said sternly, eyes narrowed,” I will go into the cell empty handed, as intended. He cannot kill me in a way that matters, I will be fine. Lower the lava, warden. Keep your blade.” 

He was shocked at his own bite. The god of Undying was not a violent man. In many ways, he was a pacifist. He had not and would not kill, maim, or otherwise permanently harm another person in this place. Much less the man in that cell. 

“Very well.” 

And so the lava lowered. 

“Don’t forget to move with the platform.” 

Foolish moved with the platform. The bubbling and overwhelmingly bright lava beneath him and to his sides was scorching. His golden form didn’t react to high temperatures like other golds might, but he was certainly very glad he’d left the golden blocks on him in storage. They would not be as lucky as the god in the heat. 

The move between behind and forwards seemed to take an eternity. And he certainly knew what eternity felt like. His heart drummed steadily in his chest. Part of him was… worried about this. Puffy had convinced him to go, just in case. If nothing else but for closure, if nothing more than for acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as he stepped off the platform and to the other side.

…

It was not this.

He was still kept from direct entry as the lava closed behind him. How long it’d last, he was unsure. What he noticed immediately, though, was the fact that there was no real reaction from the man in the prison. In fact, he seemed to be… cowering. Curled up in a corner, breath quick. 

The room smelled of blood. Foolish had expected this, from Tommy’s death. Blood was difficult to get out of obsidian. The only issue with that was, well, the fact that it smelled much too fresh to be from Tommy’s death. 

The barrier keeping him from entering the cell lowered and he took a step inside.

“You’re not…” the voice was weak and strained, maybe from lack of use, maybe from shouting,” You’re not allowed to come twice in the same day. That was- that was the one rule, Quacki…”

Dream’s voice died in his throat as he turned. An emerald eye grew wide behind a ruined mask, from terror and a flash of relief and then terror but worse all at once. Foolish made no effort to approach the man for fear of scaring him worse. 

Torture. As a god, he was more than familiar with watching it, seeing it’s effects. That did nothing to keep him from feeling ill. He was not a violent man. Seeing the cruel effects of torment made this stance all the more firm. 

“Dream…” He started, voice softer than he knew it could be, and then to himself,” Is this why Sam tried to give me his sword? Did he expect me to mutilate a man who has no way to defend himself?” 

The prisoner’s body stiffened and his eyes rapidly scanned Foolish’s body. “The- the sword? You don’t- don’t come any closer! Don’t come an- don’t get closer!” 

Foolish backed up as much as he could, back firmly against a wall. He raised his arms in surrender and made sure to not make direct eye contact with Dream. He’d have to make a conscious effort not to move too much or too quickly, it seemed. Which was easier said than done for a shark. 

“I have no weapons on me. I refused the warden’s blade. I am here to speak to you.” A beat,” Papa Puffy wanted to… Captain Puffy says hi.” “I thought she disowned me.” 

“She… she did.” 

“Then- then why-” Dream broke into a fit of coughs, sputtering weakly into his arm. He drew his mouth away and a trail of blood followed. Internal bleeding? 

“I came here because fate willed it… She wasn’t entirely wrong to call us brothers, you know. The Protector and I are brothers in essence. And you are him, in a sense. A reincarnation of a being that isn’t dead.” Foolish sighed,” You’re no god, I hope you know that. But you are kin with gods.” 

“Why are you telling me this.” 

“You’re… the treatment you’re getting in this place has escalated. People plot to kill you. Do you have any idea how many want you dead?” -Dream scoffed at this- “They want knowledge from you. Can you provide them it?”

A beat.

“The Revive Book was not your property. Nor was it Schlatt’s. Misusing it will have consequences, Swan.” 

“That isn’t-"

“It’s better than the ugly duckling.” 

Foolish didn’t process that Dream had gotten closer to him until he was tugging at the god’s pant leg. The closer look at him showed how worse for wear the man was. Blood matted his hair, the eye hidden behind his mask was black and swollen, his lip was busted. He could tell by the way he breathed that he had at least one broken rib. All in all Dream looked… Pitiful. 

“Don’t let them kill me. I- don’t let th-”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Please,” he begged, collapsing in front of the deity. Foolish’s heart twisted in his chest. 

He sunk to the ground and ran a hand down the prisoner’s back. He couldn’t do much, but he could prevent death from a punctured lung. As his hand moved, he made as much a miracle as he could. A pained gasp from Dream told him that the rib had been moved back into place. Foolish brought his hand back up, healing the swollen eye and clearing some blood from the man’s hair. The heaviness of exhaustion loomed over him.

“I can’t promise to protect you forever. You are mortal, you will die one day. But today, I can make it so you can rest easier.”

#transcribed from enderspeak #foolish gamers #c!foolish #dream smp #dream smp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #c!dream #dreamwastaken #tw: gore #tw: blood #awesamdude #c!sam

[jayeray-hq]

He’s My Best Friend: Miya Atsumu

The start of a new series celebrating having 50+ followers thank you all so much! 😊💖 Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff 

Choose your own ending platonic or romantic!

He’s My Best Friend Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to Bri from our Haikyuu Headquarters discord server for beta reading for me she’s amazing! 😊💖 The Past : How You Met            

The day you’d met Miya Atsumu for the first time, you never would’ve guessed he’d become your best friend. After all, you’d been at an age where you were utterly convinced that all boys had cooties and were absolutely gross and boring. However, you’d just moved to Hyogo prefecture with your family and you’d honestly been feeling a little lonely.

It was the end of summer break and you were going to be starting school in just a week, in what would technically be the middle of the school year as a second grader, and the whole thing had made you more than a bit anxious. Luckily one of the perks of your new house was that it was right next door to a nice park, which meant your parents were more than happy to send you out to distract and entertain yourself.

             You’d done so with aplomb setting on to one of the swings and deciding to see if you could break your personal best for how high you could go, fully believing that if you just pumped your legs high enough you might actually be able to go over the bar the way some older kids had told you and your friends from your old school.

             There’d been a few other kids at the park that day, but you hadn’t felt the need to approach them, though nowadays you couldn’t remember whether that was from shyness or because you’d been too focused on your aerial goals. What you did remember though was him, or them actually; the Miya twins.

             They’d caught your attention because they’d taken up seats on either side of you. They hadn’t had a choice because there were only four swings, you’d chosen one in the middle, and the other one on the far-right end was clearly broken, the seat dangling from one of the chains. It wasn’t until later that you’d learn that the broken swing was their fault in the first place.

             The two boys had barely seemed to notice you, swinging in between them, shouting over your head about how one of them was going to beat the other. You weren’t sure who’d said what, all you could remember was how incredibly annoying the two of them had been, so much so that you’d quickly gotten over your awe that there were somehow two of them that looked just alike.

             It had been especially annoying because, despite their argument, it was very clear that you were the one who was going the highest, being the lightest of the three. Finally fed up with them ignoring you, and shouting over your head you’d decided to perform the neat trick you’d always done with your friends back home.

             With all the absolute fearlessness of youth you let the swing get to the highest point of its arc and leapt free, landing in a perfect crouch in the sand. Your little maneuver had managed to shock the twins into complete silence, and you’d turned to look at them in surprise as you dusted off your shorts, freeing them of sand. Both had been gaping, and you’d managed to catch the eye of one of them, the twin you now knew as Atsumu. You’d given him an absolutely haughty look before sticking your nose in the air and stalking away, completely ignoring their shocked cries, and their calls to wait up, figuring it served them right for ignoring you in the first place.

             Much to your dismay it turned out the loud twins lived nearby, and ever since your little stunt they’d been determined to befriend you. Atsumu in particular was relentless, chasing you everywhere and insisting on being your friend. You’d even ended up in the same class as him once school started, much to his delight.

             In the end his persistence had paid off, and the two of you had become good friends once you’d gotten used to his loud, unabashed, blunt personality. The two of you just fit together well, though it helped that you were far more willing to be dragged into Atsumu’s schemes than his much more realistic twin. While you did become good friends with Osamu, an inevitability given the twins were practically attached at the hip twenty-four seven, you were always Atsumu you were closer with, who you considered your very best friend.

 The Present : Your High School Days

             “What happened to your face?” you demanded shocked and a little appalled that your friend had shown up on your doorstep his face covered in scrapes and a nice bruise forming over one eye, “Did you try to receive a volleyball with your forehead again?”

             Normally you walked home every day with the twins, as you still lived close to one another, but you’d had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day and so had left school early. It just figured that somehow in the scant hours between the time you’d last seen him and now he’d somehow gotten himself into trouble. Honestly, trouble probably should’ve been his middle name; bold and brash Atsumu could be entirely too impulsive at times and Osamu tended to either egg him on or ignore him entirely. You, on the other hand, had taken the firm stance of compromise and while you did allow yourself to be dragged into his schemes far too often you also did your best to discourage some of his wilder ideas to keep both of you safe.

             “I only ever tried ta do that once,” Atsumu protested in response to your accusation, as you stepped back to let him into your house and ushered him toward the bathroom.

             “Once was one time too many,” you informed him dryly, “Especially since you’ve accidentally received with your face before and should’ve been well aware that it was an incredibly dumb idea.”

             “A man screws up once and ya hold it over his head fer ever,” he grumbled unhappily, as he hopped up on to the counter at your urging, folding his arms over his chest, a slight pout on his lips that had you rolling your eyes in fond amusement.

             “So, if you weren’t practicing receiving with your face, what were you doing?” you asked as you dug in one of the cabinets for the first aid kit. You’d had more experience with the thing than you cared to remember, patching up both yourself and the twins after all the scrapes you’d gotten into over the years, and made sure to keep it well stocked.

             Of the twins Atsumu had always been quicker to anger, though he was also quicker to cool down and forgive, unlike Osamu who was a bit of a grudge holder. It meant you had lots of practice patching him up, not that you could complain as half the fights from when you were younger were started on your behalf. Despite how he would tease you at times, often viciously, only he was allowed to do it, not even Osamu was allowed to make fun of you without Atsumu taking extreme offense and getting vicious on your behalf.

             It was why you never got angry at him when he got a bit snappy or came to you to be patched up. You knew you could always count on him to have your back though you were infinitely grateful he’d gotten much better at using his words over using his fists as the two of you got older, saving the physical fights almost exclusively for Osamu.

             He grumbled something unintelligible in response and you pulled your head from the cabinets to give him a look, one that long experience meant he interpreted perfectly as ‘spill your guts or else’.

             “I got in a fight with Samu,” he repeated a little louder so you could hear the words properly.

             “What did you do this time?” you asked as you set the kit on the counter, flipping it open and pulling out some disinfectant.

             “What makes ya think it was me? It coulda been Samu, it’s not always me!” he protested annoyed.

             “Because if it was Samu you’d be with him gloating over what a terrible person he is and whining to your parents, but instead you’re moping around here at my place and clearly hiding,” you informed him bluntly, ignoring his indignant spluttering as you demanded, “hands.”

             He offered the appendages without complaint, letting you gently clean his scraped knuckles, even as he sulked over what you’d said. You’d cleaned him up after fights both with his brother and with others he didn’t get along with more than once, so you knew despite how utterly vain he could be his priority was always his hands. Which was why you always started there, and were most careful with them.

 He’d told you more than once that a setter was nothing without his hands, and he was always incredibly meticulous about their care. Funnily enough it was also only you he’d ever trusted to help him with his hands. Not even Osamu was allowed to touch, and certainly no one was allowed to wrap his fingers or put bandages on them but you.

 “So, what did you say to Samu that ticked him off bad enough to try to break your face?” you asked, as you carefully dabbed his hands with the antiseptic.

 “He was bein’ scrubby,” Atsumu protested clearly still moping, “My sets were perfect, he shoulda been able ta get them.”

 “And let me guess, instead of just shrugging it off as him having a bad day, you decided to tell him he sucked to his face,” you finished with a sigh, already able to predict how your best friend would’ve behaved in a scenario like that. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised to look up the definition of tactless in the dictionary and find a picture of Atsumu’s face next to it considering how utterly inconsiderate and blunt he could be at times. It was a good thing you’d managed to grow a thick skin over the years, otherwise your friendship probably never would’ve lasted as long as it had or been as strong as it was.

 “So, what if I did?” Atsumu protested, annoyed, though he didn’t pull his hands from your grip as you carefully bandaged them, doing your best to ensure he’d maintain proper mobility of his fingers.

 “Pretty sure Osamu would know he was having a bad day Tsumu,” you told him with a sigh, finishing up with his hands and moving on to his face, “He didn’t need you to rub his face in it.”

 “What so yer takin’ his side then?” he demanded petulantly, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger, his quick temper rearing its ugly head.

 “Don’t be stupid,” you told him flicking him hard on an undamaged part of his forehead, “You’re my best friend Tsumu and you know it. I’m always on your side, even when you’re being a scrub.”

 “I ain’t a scrub,” he muttered sullenly, “An ya shouldn’t go beatin’ on me. M’ already beat up enough, what kinda best friend are ya anyways?”

 “The best kind,” you told him completely unbothered by his whining and well aware he didn’t mean it, amused at the pout he gave you in response, even if he would vehemently deny ever doing something as unmanly as pouting at you, “The kind that tells you when you’re being an inconsiderate jerk to people.”

 “Nope,” you cut him off before he could open his mouth, “You were a jerk and you know it Tsumu, otherwise you wouldn’t be here moping.”

 “I ain’t mopin’,” he protested half-heartedly, the fact that he didn’t protest the other part of your statement was as good as a confession and you both knew it.

             You hummed in amused agreement not saying a word, simply patching up his face with infinite care, and absently ruffling his hair when you finished, laughing at his protests off with practiced ease.

             “Can I hang out here for a little bit?” he asked quietly, the words almost inaudible as he refused to meet your gaze.

             “Of course, you can,” you told him fondly, “You don’t even need to ask.”

             He slumped forward, nearly making you stumble as he leaned on you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder in a rare moment of vulnerability, the ones that as his best friend you were privy to, his quiet ‘thanks’ muffled into your shirt. You rolled your eyes at him fondly, and gently pet his hair for several long moments until he lifted his head up and hopped off the counter fully prepared to pretend the moment of weakness hadn’t happened and loudly challenging you to defeat him at videogames.

             You huffed in amusement but allowed yourself to be sucked in, well aware that this was what it meant to be best friends with Miya Atsumu.

 The Future : Platonic

             You grinned down at the court, decked out as usual in your MSBY jersey that had Atsumu’s number on the back. These days you didn’t always get to go to every game the way you had in high school, even if Atsumu always made sure you had a ticket if you wanted one. You honestly just couldn’t, as the two of you were living very separate lives. Still that didn’t stop you from trying to go to every game you could, even if it took you a little out of the way at times.

             Your lives after graduation had been pretty hard on your friendship, what with Atsumu deciding to go pro right away and you off to fulfill your own dreams as well. Atsumu in particular had, had it rough as neither you nor Osamu could be there all the time for him anymore, and you knew he’d struggled to find and stand on his own two feet.

             You’d done all you could for him at the time, keeping your door open and your phone on you, ready to talk him through his temper or chew him out if he needed you to, the same way he always made time for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear, even if his advice wasn’t the greatest.

             Honestly, you’d been a little worried that your friendship would fall apart, that the two of you would grow apart because of the distance between you. You should’ve known Atsumu would never let that happen. He held on to your friendship with the same dogged persistence he’d used to procure it in the first place, reminding you of his presence and his support, brutal though it sometimes was, at every moment he could.

             In turn you could do nothing but return his fervor, reaching out to him and ensuring you scheduled things like meet-ups, phone calls, and more. The two of you had a snap streak that had lasted almost five years and counting, and neither of you had any intention of breaking it.

             The only small bit of trouble you’d had over the years was when the two of you had significant others. You’d noticed right away that the people surrounding Atsumu could be incredibly jealous and suspicious of you, the same way you’d had a partner or two who hadn’t liked how close you were to the nationally ranked pro athlete.

             However, Atsumu had always been possessive and protective of what was his, and your relationship was something he treasured just as much as he treasured the one with Osamu. It meant that if his partner so much as hinted that they wanted him to stop talking to you or hanging out with you, he dropped them, oftentimes ruthlessly and with no remorse.

                       You did your best to do the same, hanging on to your friendship, and telling the people you dated flat out that if they had a problem with Atsumu then you wouldn’t continue to date them. After all you’d been friends with him for over a decade at that point, and there was no reason why you should put more value into a new relationship over the one you had with him even if one was strictly platonic and the other romantic.

             Your combined stubbornness meant your friendship was still going strong even now, enough so that Osamu often referred to you as his twin’s other twin, because the two of you had proved to be inseparable.

 Yes, he was rude, blunt, and still a little temperamental despite maturing a lot in the past few years, but he was also fiercely loyal, supportive in his own way, and goofy adorable dork. He was your best friend, one you knew you’d someday be sitting with side by side in the future, the two of you old and wrinkled as you argued over whose grandchildren were better as you reminisced about the good old days. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

 The Future : Romantic

             The fact that your relationship had bloomed from a steady strong friendship into something romantic had surprised absolutely no one except for you. Even Atsumu, who you’d thought to be completely and utterly oblivious to pretty much everyone’s feelings, had known before you had, much to your eternal shame.

             You weren’t exactly sure where it had started. If it was in the moments where he’d lean on you physically and emotionally showing you the vulnerable moments he went out of his way to hide from everyone else. Maybe it was the way he’d go out of his way to touch you, ruffling or gently tugging on strands of your hair, an arm over your shoulder or around your waist, hugs everywhere in public and in private, completely and utterly shameless. Or it could be the times when he’d listen to you, simply making time, even when the two of you were busy, even when he wasn’t close by, pursuing his career as a professional athlete while you chased your own dreams, to hear anything you felt you needed to say. Whatever it was it had all come together in one moment, hitting you with startling clarity.

             You remembered it clearly, you’d been sitting in one of the booths of Onigiri Miya, you plus the team and their significant others, all celebrating Osamu’s success at finally opening the restaurant of his dreams. Atsumu had been sitting next to you, a casual arm slung over your shoulders, gesticulating wildly with the onigiri in his other hand, talking with his mouth full as usual, and showing no table manners whatsoever.

             Despite that you’d seen the way the light had caught in the gold of his hair, the brightness and clear joy in his eyes, and the wide smile on his lips and your heart had flipped over in your chest and squeezed near painfully as you looked at him. It had hit you then with all the force of a freight train. You loved him, you were in love with your best friend, with Miya Atsumu, the man who’d been by your side since that very first moment you’d met on the playground over a decade ago.

             You must’ve had an odd expression on your face because Atsumu had abruptly stopped talking, and turned to you with clear concern in his eyes, and demanded in his usual tactless way to know what was wrong with you.

             In a stunning moment of sheer blunt bravery and absolute recklessness that proved Atsumu had probably rubbed off on you a little too much over the years, you’d turned toward him looked him in the eye and blurted out ‘I love you’ right then and there.

             Osamu would later congratulate you on managing to do something no one had ever managed to do before by stunning his twin absolutely speechless, but in that moment,  you’d been too focused on Atsumu’s eyes to notice how quiet both he and the rest of the restaurant had gotten at your confession.

             No matter what, Atsumu’s eyes had always given away exactly what he’d been feeling, and in that moment,  he’d been staring with such blatant hope, and longing in his face as he searched yours for any sign of deception that you hadn’t been able to look away. Though you couldn’t help the way they fluttered shut as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours, cupping your face sweetly and holding you more tenderly than most probably would’ve thought he was capable of.

             The kiss was everything you’d looked for in previous relationships, warm and sweet, with a feeling of rightness and familiarity that made you feel safe and completely and utterly loved. You’d broken apart to the sound of cheering from the rest of the restaurant’s occupants, all of whom had been extremely happy for the two of you, even if Osamu and Suna did tease you rather relentlessly over it.

             Apparently, everyone knew the two of you were head over heels for one another, and Osamu had been listening to Atsumu pine over you since high school. That you’d finally realized your feelings had come as a major relief for the younger twin and you and Atsumu had been together ever since.

             It was almost strange how easily the two of you fell together, years of experience meaning nothing surprised you. There were no ugly habits or dirty secrets to hide. You knew all about his temper, how blunt and vicious he could be, you knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. It was comfortable, warm, and everything you could’ve asked for because there wasn’t anything better really, than being in love with your best friend.

#miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyū!! #haikyu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyu fluff #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu imagines #inarizaki #he's my best friend #JayeRayWrites

[simpz-art-stash]

The Breakdown [LMK]

A moment between MKing and Fang where both  finally regard each other and their relationship as father / daughter  & teacher / student. Tags: LOTS OF FLUFF “Again.” A pained groan escaped Fang as she sat up on her sore butt for the upteenth time. “Can’t we take a break?...My tail hurts…” She whined. She was tired, sweaty, and not at all having any fun. “No.”  MKing replied bluntly, “Get up. You’re never going to win if you stay down.” He replied, arms crossed with that same serious look on his face.

She  pouted and with an exaggerated motion, propped herself back up with the  little wooden staff she’d been using since the start of this whole  training business. The poor thing had seen better days, it was  splintered and worn, to the point she’d had to wrap the base of it in  fabric just to keep her hands from getting blisters. Which at this point  had hardly done much to ease her swelling callouses. And that wasn’t  even counting the last few matches she’d endured under her father’s  lessons. Ever since she’d turned 50 or so, that was when they’d  started this whole routine. He’d told her his reasoning for why she was  here, to grow strong and take by his side as his successor in the  future. She of course agreed to it, being the ever giving child to the  Monkey King. She wanted nothing more than to be just like him. To grow  up big and strong and eventually go on her own journey. Right now however she was struggling just to keep her legs from collapsing as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Again.” He  commanded, snapping her from her thoughts as her eyes glanced across  the field of the dojo into his. She took a breath to steel her nerves  and charged at him. Remembering what he’d told her, putting force into  each step, and attempting to swing into the strike at the last minute. This time, this time- Her  steps were still just as unbalanced as the last attempt, even with her  stance poised properly, it left her wide open for an attack. Something  MKing had masterfully pulled from his observation in watching her run at  him the way she was now. It was sloppy, unfocused, and it didn’t take  him any time at all to swiftly advert her center of gravity around his  and throw her back. And just as before she found her world  spinning in a blurred mess of colors as she was flung back onto the  ground. This time landing on her side where a loud SNAP was heard. As  soon as he’d heard that noise he’d switched his demeanor in an instant  and rushed over, his brow creased as the dust settled. He first saw the  staff broken in two, its splintered bits laying scattered about. But as  some movement caught his eye, he shifted his attention towards that and  saw her moving to sit up, there wasn’t any screaming or crying so that  was a good sign. “Ah geeze..” He sighed, grateful it hadn’t been anything serious, “Come on let's get you a new one-” “I  DON’T WANNA ANYMORE!” She yelled. Which caused him to jump a little at  her sudden exclamation. His attention now primarily focused on the very  distraught child before him. Upon closer inspection she looked fine,  maybe a lil bruised but nothing a good night's rest couldn’t fix. No,  what really caused him to freeze up was the look on her face. She looked at him with a look of fear.

Now, Wukong was a monkey of many things. A proud warrior,  an old general, a friend and then some. He’d taken on countless battles  and fearsome enemies, with very few able to really strike the fear into  his core. But when it came to being envisioned with a look of  fear, and by his own child no less, it left him in a state of shock he  hadn’t felt in quite some time. In that moment of shell-shock  she’d managed to regain her footing enough to stumble on passed him, her  hands wiping at her face as she ran off. “Fang!” He called out to her, “Sweetpeach, wait- I-” It hadn't taken him long to really find her, one peek with his true sight saw her high up in the old bonsai that had been growing on the ledge of the cavern his little hut resided in. But even so..she didn't look anywhere near ready to deal with him right then so he simply sent out a few of the monkies to keep an eye on her while he went off to pick up some food, think things over. And boy did he think things over, if he thought he overthought things before, his mind was practically buzzing like an angry hive by the time he'd finally made it home. He was pushing her and pushing her and at this point he might as well of pushed her away altogether with the way she left him earlier. It broke his heart..seeing his little girl so distraught. All the while he'd been keeping himself blind to the signs for this reason alone, to make her strong..and himself stronger so that when the time came and something worse happened... He shook his head, he didn't wanna think about something like that when she couldn't even leave the island without his guidance.

He still found her in the same place as before, and exchanged a few glances with some of the older monkies that had been keeping an eye on her. They all seemed pretty huffy with him. 'Well that makes two of us...' He sighed. Passing them and climbing up into the tree, his eyes glancing over at the little ball curled tight around a cute little plush he'd made for her. Minikong, defender of the princess, stared back at Wukong, judging him in all his glory. But he could care less at that point, he had enough guilt to flood the ocean several times over, no his eyes were more keen to meet the current bundle taking resident in the little spot in the tree. "Sweetpeach?..." He spoke softly, as if the slightest wake against her fragile little ball would crumble her. It crumbled something when she flinched at his voice.

He cleared his throat when no answer came, "I uh..brought you some dinner." He rose his arm a little, before he placed down a carefully folded package of sliced fruit, all wrapped together in banana leaves. When she made no real movement to go for the food he sighed, "Come'on bud..throw me a peach here.." He pouted. She made a small noise, her little tail curling around her ankle, as if trying to make herself smaller in hopes he'd just forget about her and leave. "not hungry..." A rumble of her stomach claimed otherwise, which in turn got a small laugh out of Wukong, before he had to remind himself of his manners. "You sure about that?? Could've sworn I heard a rather distinguished appetite.." He hummed a little, his eyes never wavering from her furry little tail. She only seemed to grumble something incomprehensible in return. Creasing Wukong's brow as he tried to formulate a means to break through to her, at least enough to where she wouldn't starve herself... His eyes glanced back to Minikong, looking for pity, before an idea came to mind. "What's that Minikong?? She really isn't hungry?? Well that just won't do! And even after I picked her most favorite ripe fruit too..." He opened up the little ball of leaves, revealing the sweet savory piece's he'd so neatly cut up. He wasn't the best but he made due. "Sure would be a shame to let these spoil so soon..." He gave an overly exaggerated sigh, "I suppose that just means I'll have to eat them aaaaall by myself.." His eyes gave a side glance to the slight shuffle beside him. "Every.Last.Piece." "Nooo!!" Fang whined aloud suddenly, her movements jostling the branch she'd taken up residence on. Prompting Wukong to collect the rest of the snack before it met an untimely end to the monkies below. "Hmm?" Wukong quirked a brow back at her, hovering a piece dangerously close to his mouth all the same though. "Nonono!!" She smacked at his arm with Minikong, the traitor taking up arms against their king. "Woah kiddo I was just kidding!-" “Please don’t hate me. I know I can get better! Just train me more!” He froze, the piece in his hand lowering altogether as he turned to look at her altogether and her poor puffy face. Then it clicked. "Sweetpeach..." "I wanna get better, I wanna be strong, but it's hard!! I'm sorry!!" She stared tearing up again, her hands wiping at those big blue eyes of hers as she broke down. "I'm sorry, I'll get stronger, just don't leave me daddy!!" She bawled. And that right there shook Wukong's heart to the core, prompting him to drop what little fruit he had in hand before he finally took her into his arms. Cradling her and trying to soothe her cries. "Shh shh..hey it's okay.." He sighed, commending all those mother's and father's out there for having the strength to last as long as they did with this whole parenting thing...he could only imagine how the hell DBK dealt with it when he'd still been around. When her crying finally seemed to calm down he simply stayed with her like that for a bit, letting his hands comb through her hair while she sat curled up in his lap, so small to the rest of the world was she. He wanted to keep her safe from that world, that terrible merciless expanse that sought to take just as much as it gave. He wanted her to be strong, to keep safe, but he also wanted her to be happy...and what kind of father would he be to fail his own daughter if she wasn't any of those things? "I would never leave you behind...never for the remainder of eternity would I ever think of doing that to you." He softly stated, "I'm sorry I've been so hard on you..I didn't mean to push you as much as I did I just..." He sighed, "I just wanted to make sure that you would be ready. More than I was when I had to face the world and it's many painful lessons..." A sniffle escaped Fang then, her hands gripping at his shirt, before she shifted up a little, enough to look up at him, "Is that why you've been so scary?..." She sniffled, hiccuping a little, "Because..the world is scary..?" She blinked. His face grimaced, trying to keep it together for her sake, he brought his hand up and brushed a few stray tears off her cheek with his thumb. "I guess you could say that..." "I don't wanna..." Her face twisted into a sad frown, a threatening bout of tears pooled along the edges of her eyes despite the snot already running. "I don't wanna face the world if I can't have you with me anymore..." There it was, that remorseful little sliver of guilt that had been biting away at his core for the last few months, finally breaking through his stone ridden skin and jabbing him right in the heart. She'd been doing this for him. Pushing herself for him. To be the successor he told her she'd grow to be one day. She'd been so amped up, so happy to know she had a future to look forward to under his guidance. But that had been back when she was still a child, no better aware of her knowledge of the way things worked more than he did with the humans and their ever-growing fondness for technology. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way sweetpeach...You don't have to be my successor if you don't want to.." "B-but I do!! I wanna make you proud!!.." She exclaimed, grabbing onto his shirt, "Be strong like you.." "Fang.." He called her name, prompting her to stiffen, he never used that name unless it was serious business. "I'm already proud of you...You've come so far with your training, even if you can't see it, you've already mastered plenty of martial arts! Took me years to find a good starting point and even then I had to fight just to get a teacher as good as myself." He hugged her close, "You don't need to be my successor for me to be proud of you OR to live here, you'll still be my little sweetpeach all the same..." He smiled down at her, easing her fears finally. "Whether you like it or not-" A squeal rang out of her when he lifted her up and began to smother her with kisses. "Stooop!!" She laughed, squirming like a fish out of water as he tickled her silly. "Stoppit!! That tickles!!" "I should hope so! Had me worried all day!!" He grinned, before heard a growl from her, his brow perking up. "Oh? Does the princess have her appetite back finally??" He smirked, finally putting her back down. Before his tail finally put down the bundle of leaves he'd been holding onto and allowed her to pick out the more juicy piece's she liked. "Go on then, I don't want you complain'n later that you missed dinner." He ruffled her hair a little and sat back. "Thank you daddy.." Her voice replied, a little muffled from the mouthful of food she had, but glazed with a sweetness that coated his heart with a sugary glaze that left him warm inside. "Of course bud..."

#my fics #LMK #Sun Wukong #Sun Wu Fang #my char

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Five

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

Din watched Baast with growing concern. She'd withdrawn after Nevarro, spending the majority of her time with Grogu or in the sleeping hammock she'd strung between the walls of the Razor Crest. She refused to take his bunk, wouldn't even hear of it. When she slept - which he knew wasn't often as he could hear her prowling quietly around his ship - she did so in fits and starts and bad dreams. 

By the time they arrived at the Tribe's new home, he was genuinely worried. He didn't know enough about Zentari biology to be able to say if this was normal or not, but with how worried Grogu seemed, he was going to go with not. 

But Din couldn't focus on Baast as he navigated the high winds and icy blizzard of the Tribe's new home. The planet was damn near inhospitable, but that was why they liked it. 

This was his first visit since the massacre on Nevarro, and he was both excited to see who remained and dreading it. There had been far too many Foundling helmets in the Armourer's pile. An old outpost carved into the rock served as a place to land ships and keep them from being snowed in. Blast doors slid open, appearing to welcome him home. Mandalorians waved him forward, and he recognized the armour of Paz Vizsla.

"That kriffing bastard would live," he muttered as he maneuvered the Razor Crest around and set it down. The blast doors were already closing, not that those who worked on their ships appeared to care either way. 

Descending into the belly of his ship, he found Baast growling at her hair and tsked when he snaked the comb from her fingers. "You're making matters worse," he huffed, quickly separating the tangle. He twisted the mass into a long tail, then wrapped it into a knot at the base of her skull, where he tucked two long sticks he'd picked up in the market on Nevarro. They were made of hardened steel, sharpened to a deadly point, and would make a handy weapon if she ever needed one. She kept her eyes down and didn't look at him when he helped her into her cloak. 

While they'd been on Nevarro, he'd been careful to pick out clothing she could layer for cold weather rather than buying winter gear. He had no desire to lead the Tribe's enemies to them again and made damn sure they weren't followed. The one thing he couldn't avoid buying were boots, but Dune came through on that one. 

After Baast damn near killed her, they spent a mostly pleasant few hours with Dune while she'd cooed over Grogu and listened intently as Din told of his run-in with the Jedi. They said nothing of Baast's origins and wouldn't. What Cara didn't know couldn't get her killed. Of course, the ex-shock trooper would attempt to kick his ass if he said that out loud, so Din hadn't, remaining silent as Dune fumed for being "out of the loop."

Before he drew up Baast's hood, he lifted her chin with gloved fingers. "Baast, everything will be alright."

She gave him a wane smile, her vibrant eyes too dull for his liking. "As you say, Mando."

He gritted his teeth. That, too, had changed. She no longer called him by his name when they were alone. He was back to Mando. It was the first time in his life that he hated hearing anyone utter that word. 

"Baast, we need to talk-" He cut himself off when loud pounding came at the ramp and flipped her hood over her head. "We're not finished," he warned, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. 

She picked Grogu up but said nothing. There was no defiance, no strength, no beskar spine left to her. 

He clenched his fists and headed for the ramp, where he punched the release with more exuberance than was needed. It lowered to reveal Paz and another, weapons trained on the doorway. 

"Nice greeting," Din grumbled.

"You've too many bodies on your ship."

He held out his hand, and Baast joined him, her hand sliding up his arm to his elbow. "We seek the Alor."

Weapons slowly lowered, but he could tell they remained suspicious.

"This way." Paz turned and headed across the hanger. 

Din didn't bother to hurry. Paz would wait because they'd piqued his curiosity. He would remain once they reached the Alor to see just what Din was up to. Suspicion followed them like a red wave as they made their way through the rock corridors. The deeper they went, the warmer the air grew, indicating the Tribe had found lava flow or hot springs heated the base.

It was good, secure. Hopefully, they could remain here for some time.

Paz stopped at an open doorway and indicated inside. "Leave the child with the other Foundlings."

"Nu draar," Baast growled, her stance defensive as she rolled onto the balls of her feet. 

"He will be safe and happy with the others," Din encouraged. Looking inside, his heart plummeted. Where once there were thirty or more Foundlings, now fewer than fifteen remained. "Is this all?"

"Sabine has the older ones. They train." 

"This is The Way," Din murmured. 

"This is The Way," Paz agreed. "Leave the child."

Baast hissed at him, and Din stepped between them before things escalated. Already he could tell Paz wasn't impressed.

"Baast, udesii," he murmured, laying his hands over hers on Grogu. "He will be safe and far happier with the Foundlings. No one will touch him, I swear it."

She held onto him as if her very life resided in the little green menace, and leaving him behind was allowing a part of herself to be torn apart, but with gentle coaxing, he managed to remove Grogu from her hands and set him down to join the others children. Grogu cooed happily and toddled off to play while Din urged Baast onward after Paz. 

The giant warrior peered at Baast for a long moment before continuing away from the Foundling Nursery. 

Finally, after more twists and turns and stares from other Mandalorians, they arrived at the Foundry where the Alor waited in her golden helmet. She didn't bother to look up as she worked on polishing a pauldron. 

"You dare to bring an aruetyc here?"

At any other time, he might have flinched at such a reprimand coming from her, but not this time. "She is not an outsider. She is Baast'mal, last of the Zentari."

The pauldron slipped and clanged against the forge before she caught it and set it carefully aside. "The Zentari are no more."

"She knows The Way," Din insisted. "We completed the greeting."

The Alor turned then to face them as Baast pushed back her hood. The sharp intake of breath Paz took did not escape him. 

"I am Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du and Lin'talia of Zentarus." She tilted her head. "Great Alor, I greet thee. Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta." 

Din had never seen the Armourer show surprise in her body language before. "I greet thee, Zentari of the Bright Star, though it saddens me to learn you are the last. Can you be certain of this?"

"I felt the only other of my kind die three years past," Baast murmured. 

The Alor bowed her head. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” 

Din knew how she felt. It was like a gut punch without warning to know they'd lost something so damn special. 

"Be welcome, Baast'mal. Perhaps among our Tribe, you will find the one you seek." 

Baast said nothing, looking away as if in shame, and Din reached for her elbow before remembering they were no longer alone on his ship where he could take such liberties. Now, she would be courted by every able-bodied male of the Tribe to see if they proved worthy to be her riduur.

"Leave us," the Alor commanded. 

Din hesitated, but when Baast didn't look at him, he stepped back and walked away.

***

"Shut the door, Vizsla," she commanded as the big one followed Din out.

Used to Din's t-shaped visor, the Alor's eye slits were almost disconcerting, but Baast didn't allow it to show.

"You are of a great lineage, Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du. The Tribe will see this as a great omen, a reason to rejoice when we have so little."

"Not so great," Baast sighed. "I cannot be what I was born to be. I am no riduur. My fated mate will never complete the bond."

She tilted her head. "Oh?" Then motioned toward a table next to the forge. "Sit. Tell me your story, Baast'mal."

Baast, knowing her future depended on her honesty, spoke the truth. She told the Alor of her kidnapping as a child, her brutal years as an experiment, and the wretched way the Empire forced bonds with the Sand Cat and Manka. She showed off her Snake Tooth and admitted how broken she felt knowing she would never have the one thing she yearned for. 

"I was bred to grow warriors, but I will remain barren," she whispered, unashamed of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The woman across from her tilted her head, having remained silent through her entire recitation. "They took you from Zentarus too young. There are… things missing from your education, knowledge you have yet to acquire."

"There is?" Baast was surprised and yet not completely. She had been very young when they ripped her from her family.

"There is. I can teach you, but it will take time."

"I am not sure Di- Mando will be alright with a delay. I promised I would help him find a Jedi for Grogu."

If she was surprised Baast knew Din's name, she didn't show it. "Hm, for the child you took as your own. You will find parting with him to be like death. I do not envy you the position you have placed yourself in."

"I know," Baast whispered. "But he may be my only chance at a child."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." She stood and motioned for Baast to follow her to the forge. "For now, you will sleep. Rest, Baast'mal. You are safe here, and I can see you have not been sleeping."

"Not because I felt unsafe," she snapped. "Mando is not to blame."

"Isn't he?" 

She stared, but Baast refused to look away. She would give the Alor no reason to doubt Din. 

She chuckled and turned to the forge, her hands busy out of Baast's view. "I have long considered Djarin one of our finest warriors. I am pleased to see him living up to his potential."

When she turned back, the mark of the mudhorn was in her hand, dangling from a leather thong. The Alor stepped forward and tied the cord around Baast's neck, settling the shiny bit of beskar against Baast's chest.

"There. Now, none who see you will challenge that you belong. I will have one of the others deposit you in a family suite so you may remain close to your Mandalorian with your child."

"He is not my Mandalorian."

She looked at Baast, and Baast swore she could feel the amusement rolling off the woman. "Isn't he?" she asked before going and opening the door. "Vizsla. Retrieve the child and take her to the home set aside for Djarin."

"Respectfully, no." The one called Paz crossed his arms, radiating defiance. "If she is Zentari, she should not be living with him. She should be available to all to choose."

Baast was too tired and too stressed to deal with his macho bullshit any longer and walked into the corridor with long smooth strides. She let her cloak fall behind her as she stalked the male keeping her from her child. 

"And do you think you are worthy?" she asked, soft, cold, and deadly.

"Baast," Din warned.

She could feel him now, more and more; even with the beskar, his emotions were starting to bleed through. Being with him was agony; her soul cried out for his, but being apart would likely be even worse.  

"I could be," Vizsla snickered.

Baast smiled to show off her fangs, then kicked him down the corridor. "You do not choose!" she roared. "I choose!"

When she made to stalk after him to teach the too proud Mandalorian a lesson he would not soon forget, she found herself captured against Din. 

"He means no disrespect, but he is right. You... you must find your fated mate." The words sounded like they pained him. "You can't stay with me and do that."

Baast felt herself crumble and swayed into him, distraught at causing him such grief. 

"She is clan of your clan as the child is the child of her heart. Baast'mal wears your sigil. Until she says otherwise, she will remain Clan Mudhorn. Collect the child, take her to your home, and return to me, Djarin."

The Alor's command was not one they could ignore. Din bowed his head and pulled Baast away, past Paz, who radiated wary respect. 

The traversed corridors in reverse until they came to one deserted of others, and Din spun her into the wall. "Are you alright?"

She clung to him, clung and shook as every cell and fibre and atom of her body begged for his until she could hardly bear it. "Your Alor has information for me. My knowledge is incomplete. I must stay until it is no longer this way."

"Then we stay."

The easy acceptance shocked her into searching the t-visor for his unseen eyes. "But, Grogu. The Jedi."

"It can wait."

"Mando," she sighed.

"Din," he growled low, pressing his body closer. "You will use my name with the Tribe and in private, Baast."

She closed her eyes, the pain growing. 

"Are you sick? Do you need a healer?"

His concern broke her a little more. "No. I am fine."

"You're not fine!" he snapped. "You're fading! I can see how much something is hurting you, Baast. What is going on?"

She dredged up every ounce of self-preservation she had left to stare him cooly in the visor. "That is not your concern."

He stepped away as if she'd hit him. "Fine. Use my home. I will find somewhere else to sleep."

She watched him walk away, her heart cracking with each step until he turned the corner, and it shattered. 

Baast landed hard on her knees, unable to catch her breath, gasping and dry heaving, tears spilling freely down her face. When the hands came, they were gentle, but she would not have cared if they brought pain. Nothing hurt as much as Din walking away. 

"I'm Sabine. Allow me to offer aid, Zentari."

Baast could only nod as she allowed the female to help her up and lead her away.

***

He stalked back to the forge with angry strides but a heavy heart. Baast was breaking down, and her continued refusal to let him help would drive him insane.

Paz nodded as he went by and shut the door to the forge as he left.

"So, you have brought us a Zentari. This is well done of you."

He said nothing, knowing she needed no response.

The Armourer held up the pauldron of earlier and discarded it. "But she is soul-sick."

"Soul-sick?" He'd never heard of it before.

"She believes she is damaged. Too long was she with the Empire. Too long has she battled the mind games of the demagolka. They could not break her spirit, so they poisoned her mind. This poison sickens her soul. She needs mirjahaal."

"Demagolka…" Din whispered, horror filling him. The Demagol was the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, a real-life monster and war criminal. He was known for his experiments on children and was hated by all Mandalorians for his perversions. Children were to be cherished, never tortured. "Are you sure?"

She looked at him. "What else would you call one who experiments on children?"

He felt foolish for not seeing it himself and tilted his head in apology.

She hummed and returned to the forge. "You will help her find mirjahaal."

"She doesn't want my help."

"But she needs it. You will do this. I have spoken."

He sighed but made sure the sound didn't leave his helmet and drew the ingot of beskar from his pocket. "For the Foundlings."

The Alor hummed. "This is The Way."

"This is The Way." Din turned and left, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. 

He stormed out but only made it as far as the turn to the first hall, where he stopped to sigh and closed his eyes. How could he help Baast find mirjahaal when she didn't want anything to do with him anymore?  

How could he help her find healing and peace of mind when he no longer felt it himself?

***

Nu draar - no way/ not on your life

Udesii - calm

Aruetyc - traitor/outsider

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not gone, merely marching far away.

Mirjahaal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after trauma or bereavement. 

***

Next Chapter coming soon

#star-crossed:bound by blood #the mandalorian #au #din djarin